Page 40 of Coldwire
Kieren steps in too, letting the door close with a thud. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
9EIRALE
After my final exam posting, I woke confused in Button City. The last full memory I had was at the academy upcountry before going into the exam. Short of screaming from the intense pain, I wasn’t really conscious when I was pulled out of my Pod. I wasn’t responsive at all during the airlift out of the Button State campus and into the city.
I gave the nurses a fright when I tried to move. The hospital hadn’t expected that I’d be alert so soon. I slipped back under within seconds of that initial burst of energy, but the machines attached to my body shrieked like the end of the world had approached. Horrible spikes and dips, I’m told.
After that, my recovery was slow. Each day I opened my eyes for a few minutes, trying to parse what had happened, dissect clues from the doctors talking in my vicinity. I heard peculiar terms thrown around,brain function minimal but improving, muscle activation.What was most alarming wasn’t that I could hardly move. It was that I couldn’tremember. If I had been that close to the verge of death, I would have expected to know what the cause was.
I didn’t recognize my visitor at first. The hospital ward lowered its lights and the noise in the hallway went quiet, which told me they had cleared the space. The door opened, and he approached my bedside surroundedby security. He was dressed simply: a plain white T-shirt and dark trousers with a black belt. My neck shifted an inch; my eyes managed to swivel when he settled on the chair. Security waited outside the door too. They were uniformed in sturdy suits, the NileCorp logo stitched above their chest. At that point I knew who this was, not because of his face but because I had studied up on the number of soldiers he hired into his personal security force. It was a good position. Something I aspired toward.
“Hello, Eirale,” James Moore said. “I’m sorry you’re unwell.”
I couldn’t speak. As far as I could gauge, there wasn’t damage to my throat, but it was like the part of my brain trying to deliver the command for verbalizing my words was fried. I tried to say that it was okay and that I didn’t really feel unwell, but if I couldn’t do that, it was true after all. Itwasn’tokay. Iwasunwell.
“Please accept my deepest gratitude for the work you’ve done for us,” James Moore went on. “I’m sorry that this happened to you. In the early days of StrangeLoom, it was at the top of my list of requirements that people should never be hurt using it. It’s unfortunate how much the world has changed since then—how much has slipped out of my control.”
I watched him as he grasped my hand. I couldn’t manage anything other than a beady stare, though he smiled warmly. I thought, in that moment, that if I had a father, he would be somewhere around Moore’s age. He might be hurrying to see me while I recovered and greeting me in this exact manner. But I was an orphan, so what I got instead was a visit from my all-powerful would-be employer. What I got was something purposeful, a visit to make his wishes known to me. Moore’s fingers were clammy. It didn’t fit with the rest of his appearance. The careful smile and the clean blond hair brushed back from his mild-mannered face.
“The whole point was to connect us without harm,” he said firmly. “No more carcinogens soaking into our skin, no more pollutants in our lungs just because we wanted to enjoy the sun on our face. If I hadn’t managed the project, someone else would have, don’t you think?”
He wasn’t expecting an answer to his question. Moore’s grip tightened, almost to the point of pain, and I had no ability to react.
“StrangeLoom is a societal good. It would be for the best if we keep this quiet, Eirale. Every incident that my engine has caused is burned into my mind. But so is every great stride. Do you know how long after StrangeLoom went live that every member state in the International Assembly had signed on? Only five years. It took ten before virtual reality’s economy surpassed the real. After fifteen, federal declared downcountry Atahua to be defunct, financially speaking. I intend to continue on an upward trajectory. I’m glad that we didn’t lose you among the ranks of incidents. It means you can help us ensure it never happens again.”
I managed the smallest movement of my head, the semblance of a nod. It must have been enough for Moore, because the tension dissipated in his expression. He stood with relish.
“I’ll be in touch again when you have recovered.” Security in the room shifted, preparing to accommodate his exit. “Take the time to heal. You have the Button City base waiting for you once you’re ready.”
I pretend to be asleep until Miz finally puts away her handhelds. Wait until I hear her rustling into her bed, then settling.
When her breathing evens out, emitting soft, gentle snores, I give up the pretense and open my eyes, opting to stare out the balcony window.
I’ve never been more awake. I keep straying back to the memory of James Moore in my hospital room, the day I realized that somehow the results of my final posting had landed me a comfortable position at a prestigious base. After I recovered, I was granted a salary far more generous than I’d expected or ever thought to ask for. It was the best-case scenario I could have encountered upon graduation.
Yet I still can’t fathom what I might have done to warrant it. And maybe a part of me doesn’t want to know.
I shift slightly against my pillow, narrowing my eyes. Miz left the curtains undrawn, so I have a perfect view of the neighboring building.There.The light blinks again. Maybe a malfunctioning silent alarm.
When I move to sit up, wanting a better look, my body responds easily. Enough time has passed since my hospital bed that it seems like a faraway dream, an event happening to someone else, played through my eyes. It feels absurd to consider that I was immobile while James Moore was in the room, that I didn’t get the chance to speak. I do admire him, despite NileCorp’s wrongs in the world.
Moore wasn’t in touch again. His NileCorp representatives were, so I suppose that still counts. I was smoothly transitioned into Button City. Officially registered as a corporate soldier.
Another blink, coming from the neighboring high-rise. I’m moving silently at once, swinging my feet into my waiting shoes. This makes the fifth flash, and I’ve been counting the seconds that pass between. They’re increasing on ten-second intervals. It’s not an alarm, and it’s not random.
NileCorp.
Miz’s snoring echoes through the room. Slowly I creep across the floor and open the door inch by inch to prevent the hinges from squeaking. Miz doesn’t stir. The hallway is almost pitch-black, interrupted only by pinprick lights embedded in the carpeted floor. It was emergency escape path lighting once upon a time, repurposed after the world went virtual so the building owners could save money on bills downcountry. Room 407, where Nik and Blare disappeared into, is dark behind its door too.
I slip out of the room, beelining for the elevator. Under normal circumstances, I’d assume the stairwell to be a quieter route, but I already heard how loud the exit door was when the cleaning-cart lady pushed through. There’s no sign of life inside any of the other rooms on the fourth floor. My shoes are noiseless on the carpet.
The elevator doors glide open. I slink inside.
It doesn’t move for a long moment. Agonizingly, I eye the digitaldisplay until the box finally begins to descend, the red4switching to3. A blinking light within view of my window means either someone is trying to getmyattention, or Nik’s team is being cased and this is a signal between unit members who are closing in. Regardless of which situation it is, I’d like to see what’s going on.
When the elevator arrives on the ground floor, the doors are so slow that I push out before they’ve fully opened, my eyes stinging from the sudden onslaught of fluorescent lighting. I wait just a beat.
Before the stairwell entrance thuds open, and Nik Grant marches out.
