by Talis Jones
“Isn’t he back home now?” I ask.
“I wish. He was only supposed to be in town for a couple of days but he decided to extend his stay and do so in my apartment that he happens to be paying for so I can’t exactly ask him to leave.”
“See?” teases Jez. “Free stuff always has strings attached.”
“Shut up, Jez,” I roll my eyes, still irritated with the pudding attack. At least I don’t bother with a full face of makeup like Marissa or it’d be horribly ruined.
“It’s just…” Fitz struggles to put his thoughts into words for a moment. “He’s obsessed. I don’t think I can describe it as anything less. And it’s as if he’s trying to drag me into this obsession with him. I miss living alone, being allowed my own space to live, breathe, think, feel, and him being there is suffocating me. I keep trying to figure out when he’ll leave but he avoids giving any sort of firm answer.”
“Typical politicians,” Jez quips before I smack his arm.
“Obsessed?” He’d seemed intense, passionate perhaps, but obsessed? And with what? “I know you hate prying, but can I ask…”
“I opened this door,” Fitz sighs. “I think I need to talk to someone or I’ll lose my mind. He’s obsessed with reuniting the United States. It’s always been an objective for him, something he always mentions during speeches, election campaigns, and the like for years, but I guess I hadn’t realized how much his desire for restoration has grown. It’s almost as if something happened, some key in the game, and now that he’s a step closer he’s become rabid.
“I don’t generally discuss his work with him because it always leads to his disappointment in my choosing a different career path, but now I wish I’d paid more attention. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I just know that he’s like a dog with a bone now and I’m sick of it.”
“Is reuniting really an option still?” I ask after a moment. “To be honest it always seemed impressive that the country didn’t fracture long before now considering the vast array of strong beliefs and opinions.”
Fitz shrugs. “I didn’t think so, but now…perhaps?”
I rest my chin in my hand as I consider the possibility. “I hope it is, I think. On the one hand, I don’t wish for anything that might require war or any sort of violence, but on the other, I miss my family.”
“But Dr. Ramses…”
“My sister and her family live here with me, but we have a brother in Atlanta and our parents had recently retired to California,” I explain. “There was both plenty of time and no time at all to gather together. We just never thought the idea of secession was serious and then suddenly it was. Two civil wars hadn’t done the trick so what was a third?”
Jez remains quiet. His whole family lives in Texas. Whatever had been the U.S. in the history books was now a fragmented land of constant turmoil. Insurrection, civil war, borders under attack and being redrawn again and again as alliances, powers, and leaders rise or fall… It seemed that conflicting opinions and beliefs spun by a growing chokehold of extremism had grown to a boiling point and the people had had enough, each willing to sacrifice peace for their varying definitions of freedom, but instead of the calculated secession they’d planned it ruptured into chaos. The northeast seemed to be hardly affected compared to the rumors of the rest.
Photos and rumors leaked before piece by piece communications were severed, borders armed, until the northeast became its own island of memory and stubborn ignorance. Chemical warfare, riots, militias, disease…I had to stop reading the news, fact or fiction, because it just added to the nightmares I already suffered from being separated from my family. Jez has a book of pictures from all fifty states and sometimes I’ll flip through it unable to comprehend that those beautiful landscapes have supposedly been reduced to dust and decay, those smiling faces now corpses for the crows and I pray my brother isn’t one of them. Or in the far west where conflicting rumors shared stories depicting anything from a happy utopia to a terrifying prison. My parents are there and I cling to the happier rumors. I have to.
Fitz covers my hand on the table with his. “I’m sorry, Morgan. A lot of families were separated and I shouldn’t have been complaining about my father trying to help them. It was thoughtless of me. Tactless.”
“No, don’t worry about it,” I smile. “I’m sure if my parents were here, I’d be complaining about them too. It’s only because they’re not that I find I weirdly miss it. Besides, I think anyone who has to spend too much time with your dad would be driven mad. No offense.”
Fitz laughs a real laugh this time and it eases the ache in my chest for him, for Jez, for my family, for the whole mess of things.
“Why’s he staying here though?” Jez wonders. “This is hardly a political hub, is it?”
I’d wondered the same thing. I glance at Fitz to hear his answer when I notice just how uncomfortable he seems with the question.
“He won’t tell me directly.” Fitz casts Jez a sardonic grin. “Typical politician. I suspect, though I still can’t figure out why, that he’s here for ZoiTech.”
“ZoiTech?” Jez scoffs.
“I know,” Fitz agrees. “I don’t understand why he’s so interested in it, but I think that’s why he’s still here. Not once has he ever been interested in my career once I officially declared a medical track, until lately. He showed brief interest until discovering I was only an intern here, and now he’s been acting far too interested to be natural for him. Asking about Dr. Xi, what the company is working on, what I’m working on, stuff like that. And yet he asks as if he already knows the answers or he knows something I don’t. It’s weird and obviously I can’t tell him much due to security and secrecy clauses in our contracts, but it’s just odd.”
“I’m not even going to bother suggesting he just wants to step up his parenting game,” Jez shakes his head. “Not after meeting him.”
“Oh it’s definitely not that,” he laughs humorlessly.
I fidget in my seat, my gaze gone out the window, as my mind churns over the question paired with Javi’s confession and Mr. O’Malley’s investigation. I wonder who was the anonymous whistleblower and what drove them to dare cross a powerful group such as ZoiTech. Something similar to Javi’s story or was there something else? Something more?
“Morgan? Moooorgan.” Jez pulls me from my wandering mind.
“What? Sorry, I was just…lost in thought,” I apologize a bit sheepishly.
“Don’t try and figure out my father,” Fitz warns resigned. “You’ll just tie your own self into knots trying.”
“Oh!” Jez snaps. “Remember that lawyer guy that was here the other day? I wonder if that has anything to do with it?”
“I think you’re right,” I mumble softly before lifting my gaze for the large clock above the snack stand. “Our break is over.”
Grabbing my trash I toss it out and hurry back to work leaving behind Jez and Fitz with puzzled looks. I trust Jez despite his preference for goofing off, and I trust Fitz even if he can be irritatingly arrogant. I trust them and should talk to them, but not here. Not in a building laced with cameras, eyes, ears, employees hungry to climb the ladder, and certainly not in Dr. Xi’s very own domain.
I can’t just expose Javi’s secret either. There’s too much at stake and what if this is just some nonsense conspiracy I’m piling together in my mind as if I’m on some stupid drama show rather than real life? I feel exactly as if I’ve been dropped into the middle of a TV show without a script. None of it seems real, it all seems ridiculous, and if there’s one thing I fear and loathe above all else it is looking like a fool. No, I need time to think, time to substantiate the wild theories racing through my head. I could start by telling them about Sofia’s strange behavioral changes, but what would that prove? They’d be likely to think it’s just a phase like Marissa hopes unless I told them everything and I can’t risk that yet. Not yet.
I shake my head at myself. I’m being one of those irritating characters on TV that tries to keep everything to their s
elf instead of confiding in their friends and yet… and yet now that I’m in the middle of the plot I can’t seem to reason why I should be any different. Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled at those characters so readily. But to be fair I always knew things would eventually work out for them because the fandom demanded it while this is reality where no formula or script can protect me.
Seven
“Straighten up!” Greyson, our team leader, calls, cutting off the music playing through the portable speaker we use to keep us entertained.
None of us need telling twice. We never knew when ZoiTech would receive important visitors, especially investors, so we had an alert system that began with the parking lot attendant and spread throughout the campus so that no matter where these important people passed by or stuck their noses, we’d look as perfect as a brochure picture. You’d think such things wouldn’t matter, but they do. Looking the way investors expect you to goes a long way and even if it didn’t, Dr. Xi remains particular about how his life’s work is presented.
“Who is it this time?” I ask loud enough for anyone with the answer to hear.
“Dr. Convici,” Rhia answers while smoothing her hair nervously.
I whip my head around. “Elizabeth Convici? Of Santé Medical?”
She gives me an annoyed look as if educating a peasant. “Obviously.”
Fitz nudges me with his elbow, his eyes wide with excitement just like my own. “Convici!” he mouths silently.
“I know!” I mouth right back with a grin. She’s one of the leading researchers in genetic healing, neck and neck with Dr. Xi, at least on this side of the globe. I’d even considered referencing some of her work for my dissertation before deciding to vie for an internship at ZoiTech. Working with Dr. Convici would have been just as amazing an opportunity but Santé Medical doesn’t have an internship program, paid or otherwise.
Jez shakes his head at the both of us. “You’re both insufferable fangirls, you know that?”
I smack his arm and he shakes his finger at me. “Nuh uh, none of that while we’ve got fancy guests roaming the halls.” Leaning in he adds in a low whisper, losing some of his mirth, “And it doesn’t seem like a good idea to be squealing over your boss’ nemesis.”
“Oh come on,” huffs Fitz. “Surely ‘nemesis’ is a strong word. They’re both leaders in the same field, of course they’d have some competitiveness between them.”
“I dunno,” Jez insists. “I always have one ear tuned into the rumor station and I think the competition has grown into a desire for annihilation.”
Opening my mouth to respond to his nonsense, the words vanish with a soft gasp as I watch the lab doors open and in strides Dr. Xi, Dr. Convici, and a few of their assistants. In an instant the life is sucked out of the room, usual banter replaced with calculated calm. Everyone moves as if part of a simulation, cool focus and smooth motions only. I do my best to imitate the others, but it’s difficult to contain my curiosity and I can’t help flicking furtive glances out of the corner of my eye.
“This team works directly under Dr. Ramsey and have been making almost miraculous strides in not only their research but in prototype development,” Dr. Xi shares smugly.
Dr. Convici takes in the room with a sweeping glance, refusing to appear impressed. “Are you using your employees as test subjects, Harold? How do you keep them so well behaved? They’re even better than the trained monkeys I’d expected.”
“If my people are monkeys, what are yours? Dodos?” he sneers.
My hand jolts in surprise at their biting exchange, nearly spilling a drop down the side of the beaker I’m filling.
“Dodos are not moronic,” Convici spits back. “You’d know that if you had an ounce of intellect worth writing about.”
“Bitter that I was awarded that interview in the Western World Medical Journal and not you?”
“I don’t need the fawning attention of interviews. I have more publications than you. Publications of my work, writings of substance.”
“Yes, you have managed to best me when it comes to quantity but let’s not overstate the quality.”
“Ha! I’ll bet you don’t even know the name of a single person in this room.”
I wonder at their blatant bickering, uncaring of their audience. It feels so wildly unprofessional and, at least with what I know about Dr. Xi from this job, out of character and I feel distinctly uncomfortable like being a child witnessing their parents arguing. I try to tune them out and cease listening when another shock comes that would’ve definitely made me spill if I hadn’t already finished pouring.
“Ms. Travers recently joined the team,” Dr. Xi confidently disproves her claim, coming over to where I stand and placing a proud hand upon my shoulder. “I recruited her from the interns personally though I’m not surprised she managed to impress me, she’s Dr. Ramsey’s sister-in-law.”
“They aren’t blood related,” was all Dr. Convici offered by way of response and just like that Xi drops his arm and abandons me, mercifully allowing me to fade once more into the background.
“No,” Dr. Xi allows, “but his daughter is and even your stubborn cling to aloofness will waver when you see what…”
His words disappear as they exit the lab and my hands shake as I try to pick up a pipette.
“What the hell was that all about?” Fitz wonders under his breath.
“Nemeses,” Jez answers. “I told you they hate each other.” He casts a glance towards me, noticing my nerves. “Bad luck on your part, Mor, being singled out like that.”
“She’ll never allow you to work with her now,” Fitz shakes his head in sympathy.
“I dunno,” Jez shrugs. “She might if only to spite Dr. Xi.”
Murmurs fill the air with a hum as everyone balances work with speculation, but my mind keeps boomeranging back to the last words Xi uttered before the doors shut behind him. How arrogant was he to even dare bring up his knowing who Sofia is in front of me? Does he know that Javi confessed? Does he know what I’ve been noticing? Does Dr. Convici know what’s going on? Part of me begs to pretend nothing is amiss at all, to stay focused on my assigned tasks and my own career…but I love my niece and it simply does not seem an option for me not to try and do something.
My fingers sweat as they grip the small recording device hidden in my coat pocket. It takes everything I learned in that one week of theatre camp in eighth grade that Marissa guilted me into doing with her to keep my face friendly and neutral as I wander down the hall. Stopping in the bathroom I quickly pat my temples dry and switch on the recorder. Mr. O’Malley needs evidence and I need answers.
Giving Jez the slip at all is impossible except for the excuse of needing to pee and Fitz tried arguing about my leaving before break even for as good a reason as that. I wanted to find Xi before Convici left, I wanted to know what he would tell her even if just in boast, yet each step closer towards his office has my pace slowing until I am practically shuffling my feet with blatant reluctance.
Idiot, I chastise myself. Either I was doing this or I wasn’t.
Even with the hall empty there are cameras everywhere. As I lean outside of Dr. Xi’s office, just beside his door on the drywall side (I had to go down a floor, cross the building, and take the next lift all the way up to the top floor all just to be certain I approached from this side and not the side of his office made of floor-to-ceiling glass), I pretended to rifle through my bag filled with my dissertation notes. I figure if anyone asks I can say I’d hoped to talk to both Dr. Xi and Dr. Convici for a quote or something, feigning ignorance of their now obvious dislike for one another and leaning on my nerdy reputation.
Conscious of the sensitive microphone in my pocket I try to move as quietly as possible so as not to override any dialogue it might otherwise capture. At the moment I can barely hear anything at all and curse myself for taking this risk that is clearly a waste of time. That is, until the yelling starts.
“You’re just upset that I got this contract and n
ot you!” Dr. Xi shouts angrily in response to whatever accusation Dr. Convici had flung at him.
“Are you insinuating that I’m jealous??” Dr. Convici blasts back in outrage. “This isn’t high school, Harold. This is about more than who is who and who gets what. We are talking about the world! The future! The greater good! And you sold that for a government contract so that, what, you can buy a yacht? Stroke your ego??”
“HA! Don’t be so small-minded, Elizabeth. It doesn’t suit you.”
“No? Tell me why then! Tell me why you sold us out if not for greed. Tell me why you invited me here if not to rub your success in my face,” she demands angrily. “I contributed fifty percent of the research that became the springboard for this new project of yours and demand a say in how it is used!”
“Oh please,” he scoffs. “Claim what you’d like, but at the end of the day you’re just as corrupted in the soul as me. I at least am fully aware of it and make use of it while you flap around in self-denial unaware of what a fool you are making of yourself.” Each word drips with disdain and a brief silence follows its lash.
“I will destroy you, Xi,” she vows almost too quietly to be heard through the door. “It will become my sole focus. Then, when I’ve succeeded, I will use our research to change the world for the better and no price can change my course.”
“I’m flattered,” Xi laughs. “But oh what a pathetic existence, to live forever as a sore loser obsessed with revenge.”
“I am not pathetic!” she shrieks.
“You were pathetic ten years ago and you’re pathetic now!” he yells.
“Well, we’ll see who’s laughing in the end,” Convici barks. “I have eyes, ears, and most importantly hands everywhere, even in the highly secure ZoiTech campus. If my words can’t stop you then maybe I need to be a little bit more explosive to grab your attention. When your legacy is rubble at my feet, who will be laughing then?”
I’m so wrapped up in the verbal sparring I barely have time to raise my fist to pretend I was about to knock on the door before it’s thrown open and Dr. Convici storms past me. If steam could have spouted from her ears I bet it would have.
