Union

by John Darryl Winston

  “Um—”

  Before Harvis could finish, the called ended.

  “Bye.” Harvis looked at Naz. “Were you able to read any thoughts?”

  “No, doesn’t work that way, I guess. Tomorrow?! Why not today. I’m sick of all this waiting.”

  “Hey, I don’t make the rules. Coordinates?” Harvis looked at his phone. “What happened to a good old address? Are you sure that was D?”

  Naz shook his head. “It sounded just like her, but she doesn’t talk like that.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

  “We go?”

  “No … you go. And I watch and listen from a distance.”

  “You scared?”

  “Of course.” Harvis smirked. “We have ears.” He touched the mini headset he was wearing.

  “But won’t they see those? Aren’t we supposed to be like, secretive or something?”

  “Actually, you’ll fit right in. Everybody wears headphones and earbuds these days. The best way to hide something is put it out in the open. We have our locators.” Harvis pointed to his watch. “Now all we need are eyes.”

  “And we have to wait ’til tomorrow?” complained Naz.

  “Tomorrow after we go back to school for our one day before they suspend me and expel you.”

  “Don’t remind me. What’d your dad say about being suspended?”

  “I haven’t talked to him yet, and he won’t be home until next week. So we have time to work this thing out without his direct interference.”

  “What’s so important at school. Wait … I know. You think whoever took D goes to Union.”

  “Works there or knows something. Way too easy access to our locker. I found that note on top of my books. Whoever put it in there didn’t stick it through the vents, they had the combination.” Harvis packed his things to leave.

  “Combination … huh … so you’re proposing I read every mind at Union?”

  Harvis nodded.

  “You’re talking about thousands of students in one day.”

  “If you have a better idea, I’m all ears. If we can’t find D, our next best option is to find who has her.”

  “Where you goin’?”

  “Home. Fortune favors the prepared Young man.”

  “How am I gonna read all those minds in one day?”

  “Leave that to me.”

  Naz and Harvis agreed to meet at their locker the next morning before first-hour started.

  Harvis pulled his health book out of his locker. “Anything with the dream?”

  “Same. She keeps disappearing, even faster it seems.”

  “Well, today probe every mind—”

  “Probe? Do you have to use that word? It’s so … probing. I prefer inviting.” Naz stood with his back against the next locker.

  “Fine! Invite the thoughts of everybody you see in the hall today.” He handed Naz a piece of paper.

  “But that won’t be everybody at Union. What’s this?”

  “I got in touch with the General last night. Told him about what happened at school, as if he didn’t know. He got in touch with your Dr. Gwen and together they came up with this: a public service announcement from the mayor, endorsed by the General and Dr. Gwen. It’s supposed to reassure the student body that our school is still safe and that there are services available to students who might need them.”

  “What are we supposed to do with it?”

  “You’re supposed to take it to every classroom in the school as part of your consequences for sneaking in the hallway Monday when you were supposed to be on lockdown. What a stupid thing to do.” Harvis smirked.

  Naz shook his head and looked away. He would not partake in Harvis’ humor. “I get it. While the teachers are reading this to their classes, I’ll be probing … I mean inviting all of their thoughts to my twisted home.”

  “And if the person that has D sees you, whatever they’re thinking will give them away in a heartbeat,” said Harvis.

  “Why didn’t they just make this announcement over the intercom, or send out copies to every classroom.”

  “Because the General suggested a personal touch would be more useful, and like I told you before, it’s an add-on to your punishment, courtesy of Dr. Gwen from down under. Plus, how else would you get to read every mind in the school? Now get to work.” Harvis slammed the locker door as if to put an exclamation point on his directive.

  “And what are you gonna do all day?”

  “My school work, of course. Remember that stuff?” Harvis winked and walked away.

  Naz started right away with the students in the hallway en route to their first hour classes. Then, he went from classroom to classroom as Harvis had instructed, giving the letter to teachers to read while he mind swept the class. Naz had no idea so many students went to Union, and he wondered if he would have time to get to everyone.

  At one point he lost count of how many classrooms he had been to, and he wasn’t sure if he was starting to see some of the students more than once. In one class, as the teacher droned through the mayor’s letter, Naz focused on the students in front of him. One boy with jet-black, shoulder-length hair and a skull and crossbones, black T-shirt thought—his girlfriend’s missing. The girl next to him shook her head—isn’t that the kid who got caught in the hallway Monday? A hand shot up in the front row. Naz zoomed in on a boy with a buzz cut similar to Harvis’ only he was blond instead of brunette—That kid seriously needs a haircut. The teacher ignored Buzz Cut, handed Naz the letter, and resumed his lesson. As Naz turned to leave, he caught one more thought—he’s cute. Naz looked at the hot girl who sat near the door. She was reading a book, but the boy next to her smiled at him.

  Naz left the room and leaned up against the wall in the hallway. He slumped. Harvis’ strategy wasn’t working. By lunchtime, he was discouraged. He didn’t have anything. Most of the students had no idea who he was, and the ones that did paid him no mind.

  Harvis had Naz mind sweep the cafeteria, but there was nothing there either. After lunch, it was more of the same, and while Naz was getting more and more discouraged, Harvis seemed encouraged. Harvis’ reason; he wasn’t emotionally involved, and more importantly they had eliminated a slew of possible suspects, bringing them one step closer to finding the perpetrator—typical Wordsmith logic.

  As soon as Naz walked into last hour, Art Survey, he mind swept the class. Again, he came up empty. He texted Harvis to meet at their locker and then asked to go to the bathroom. He could only take it for so long, sitting in a class where D was supposed to be. They ducked out of school early, wanting to get a jump on their Wintersal mission.

  When Harvis input the coordinates into one of the AVP locators, it showed Wintersal as being located in the heart of the rural suburb of Pleasant Ridge, not far from Cedarville. Harvis estimated it would be at least an hour and a half train ride from the Exclave. They were running out of time, and Naz sensed Harvis felt it, too.

  Harvis took the train back to his father’s house in Soldier’s Plank where he would follow Naz’s movements on the AVP locator. He also equipped Naz with a tiny camera that he had mounted on the headset. The camera fed into Harvis’ phone so he would not only know Naz’s location but have eyes and ears on him at all times as well.

  As usual, the hum of the Helix had a sleep-deprived Naz in a coma within minutes where he would fall back into his recurring dream. It took Harvis to yell Naz’s name over the headset several times to let Naz know he was nearing his destination. Naz woke up in a sour mood as usual. Naz yawned as he exited the train.

  “Maybe I should’ve talked to you all the way there. Kept you alert,” said Harvis.

  “I am alert. I would’ve fell asleep on you anyway. The Helix always does that to me.”

  “You ready?”

  “Let’s do this.”

  What would he learn from his visit to Wintersal that could help him locate D? For almost two years he wondered about the man in the hat, the man who had f
ollowed him, Avander Pauling. And now Pauling had invited him to his institute—should I be concerned?

  The building was large, nondescript, and copper-colored with a band of dark continuous glass halfway up that ran its length, dividing the structure into three equal parts. There was no address or sign on the building. Naz stopped and marveled at the simple symmetry of its design—like a giant LEGO.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Harvis.

  “No.”

  “Stay focused.”

  “I am focused. Maybe this having eyes on me thing wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

  The building sat alone in a clearing for something bigger to come—like a mall or an amusement park. Naz stood in front of the massive gray metal door and took a deep breath. It didn’t seem like knocking was appropriate or would summon anyone. He saw a keypad next to the door and underneath it, a buzzer.

  “You might try ringing the doorbell,” said Harvis.

  “Welcome back, Igod Andersen. Nice to see you again,” a woman’s voice said.

  The door opened, causing Naz to retreat a step.

  “Go on in,” said Harvis.

  Naz swallowed as he entered the building. There was a humming sound, but the place seemed empty. It was a moderately-lit, large, circular office reception area with a sizable bronze metallic desk at its center and matching metal structures around it. There was a large sign high up and behind the desk with a big “W” on it. The sign seemed to be floating, suspended in midair by nothing.

  “Are you getting this?” asked Naz.

  “I am,” said Harvis.

  Naz approached the desk. “That sign looks like it’s floating.”

  “Easy, Naz.”

  When he got fifteen feet away from the desk, a beautiful woman appeared out of thin air, causing Naz to freeze in his tracks.

  “Can I help you, Mr. Andersen?” asked the woman who now sat at the desk.

  Naz stood with his mouth open.

  “Can I help you, Mr. Andersen?” the woman repeated, but slightly louder and with her head tilted.

  “Answer her … or it,” said Harvis.

  “I’m here to see Mr. Ahem … Dr. Pauling.”

  “Dr. Pauling isn’t here.” A voice came from his right.

  He snapped his head around to see the woman who had answered him. He looked back at the woman at the desk, and she was gone.

  “What happened to the s-secretary?” asked Naz.

  “You mean administrative assistant.” She held her hand out to Naz.

  “Is that D?” asked Harvis.

  “No.” answered Naz.

  “No?” asked the woman.

  “I mean yes,” said Naz. “Administrative assistant.” He grabbed her hand softly and shook it.

  “Actually she isn’t a secretary or an administrative assistant; she’s a hologram, and a damn good one, I might add.”

  “Hologram?”

  “Yeah, hologram. You are familiar with those, right?”

  “Yeah, but not like that. She looked real.”

  “Samandalyn,” the woman called, and the hologram of the administrative assistant appeared again.

  “Yes, Ms. Dinwiddie.” The hologram called Samandalyn spoke again.

  “When did Dr. Pauling say he would be returning?”

  “Shortly, Ms. Dinwiddie. Will there be anything else?”

  “No. Thank you, Samandalyn.”

  “You are welcome, Ms. Dinwiddie.”

  The hologram disappeared again.

  “Little stiff, but definitely a badass program, don’t you think?”

  Naz nodded. The woman standing in front of him could have passed for D’s twin. She was a little shorter, but aside from the haircut, no glasses, gothic-look mascara and fingernail polish, she and D were two of a kind. And if Naz weren’t standing in front of the woman, he’d swear on everything he owned that the voice belonged to D.

  “So what gives with the earphones?” She looked with a smirk.

  “Um…”

  “Tell her you need them to hear.” Harvis came to the rescue.

  “What? Oh … I don’t hear so good without ’em.”

  “If you say so.” She laughed. “So, you’re, Igod. I wouldn’t expect you to remember me. I barely remember you. I think you were about two years old the last time I saw you, and now you’re the spitting image of your father. What am I thinking? I’m Darlana, but you can call me Darla.”

  “Well, this is interesting. Do you think she knows about you and Delilah?” asked Harvis.

  She took Naz’s hand just the way D would. There was the yin and yang tattooed on her wrist. “Let me show you around. I’m sure you don’t remember anything about this place either.”

  “Read her mind to see what she knows,” said Harvis.

  “This place has everything: a state of the art gym and theater, a virtual museum, and digital library with every artifact and publication ever created since the modern era began, challenge rooms, maze simulators, battle games, conflict resolution scenario stratagems, and client dorms.” Darla made it no secret that she was excited about Wintersal. “Imagine a room full of holograms like Samandalyn, but instead, alien warriors wielding flesh-cauterizing lightsabers or a group of rebel bandits, brandishing bayonet-equipped muskets from the revolutionary war. If it has to do with the mind and you can imagine it, it’s just a matter of time, and Wintersal can fashion it.” She seemed proud of her thirty-second pitch about the Institute.

  Darla took Naz through a doorway to the left of the receptionist desk that led into an expansive hallway. The hallway opened into a massive atrium filled with plants, trees, tables, chairs and the sounds of nature. Sunlight poured into the room from above.

  “Wow,” said Harvis.

  “It didn’t look this big from the outside.” Naz stood with his mouth open.

  “I know, right? Check this out. Fiat lux.”

  A control panel appeared in front of her. Naz quickly shifted his position to get a better view.

  “I can’t see,” said Harvis.

  Naz resisted the urge to respond to Harvis.

  Darla typed something on the control panel, and it disappeared again. “Look.” She pointed to the ceiling. The atrium had vanished and everything that was in it. All that remained was the expansive hallway, with doors on both sides. Oddly the light in the room had not changed.

  “Another hologram?” asked Naz.

  She nodded as she led him down the hallway.

  “How do you know what’s real and what’s not?”

  “That’s the fun part. Sometimes Dr. Pauling and the designers and I hear some of the clients even change things, and some of the holograms become real. Keeps us on our toes.” She stopped him in front of one of the doors.

  “What’s this lead to?” asked Naz.

  “Wait and see. Fiat lux.”

  The control panel appeared again.

  “What does that mean … Fiat, Fiat Lux?”

  “It’s Latin for ‘let there be light.’”

  “Why Latin? It’s a dead language,” asked Harvis.

  “Why Latin? It’s a dead language,” repeated Naz.

  Harvis laughed.

  “Dr. Pauling prefers to call it the mother of the romance languages.” She typed on the control panel.

  “Romance languages?” Naz gawked at his surroundings.

  The door slid open as did another one fifty feet down on the same side.

  “Yeah, you know like, Spanish, French, and Italian, a few of the many languages your father spoke.” She seemed excited to talk about Cory—most people did. Naz sighed.

  She typed something else on the control panel, and a giant digital clock appeared on the wall directly between the two open doors. Naz peered into the door he was closest to. It was completely dark.

  “What’s in there?” asked Naz.

  “You scared?” She smiled.

  For a moment Naz thought he was talking to D and he needed to regroup—woosah.

&nb
sp; “I definitely should’ve taken this trip,” said Harvis.

  “It’s a maze. You go in here.” She pointed to the door that had Naz’s attention. “And you come out there.” She pointed to the other door. “The clock in the middle times you. Guess who holds the records?”

  Naz pointed to her, and she nodded.

  “Wanna try?” She looked at him with a devious smile.

  “You go first,” said Naz.

  “Chicken,” said Harvis.

  “My pleasure,” said Darla.

  “Wait.” Naz still peered into the dark room. “If you’ve already memorized the maze, then what’s the challenge?”

  “Every time you load the program it reboots in a random configuration. Hey … this is Wintersal, OK.” She laughed.

  Naz immediately had an idea. It would be cheating, but it would be fun to impress his girlfriend’s big sister.

  “You ready?” she asked.

  “Let’s go,” said Naz.

  She took off through the dark maze, and the stop clock started. Naz heard the faint shuffling and Darla humming—the same tune that D hums—and then complete silence followed by the crescendo of shuffling and humming again.

  “You gonna read her mind, learn the maze, and cheat aren’t you?” asked Harvis.

  “I think I’m gonna turn off your feed,” said Naz.

  “Cheater.”

  In less than a minute she came through the other door, her breathing noticeably heavier than when she had started. The clock read,

  00:57.48

  “Think you can beat that, chosen one?”

  “Chosen one?” Naz quickly searched for the maze in her mind and found it along with memories of Cory carrying him on his shoulders, standing over a bunch of children.

  “That’s what everyone called you when your father used to bring you here. They say you learned to do mazes before you could walk. Of course, they didn’t have mazes like this one back then. You ready?”

  “I’m not sure if I can even do it.”

  “I can turn the lights on. If you want.” She tapped on the control panel and the clock reset. “It’s on you.”

  He walked through the first door casually and then took off. He navigated the maze flawlessly and as fast as humanly possible, and when he reached the exit, he took a couple of deep breaths and slowed to a casual pace again, just before he came out. He walked out slowly, and the clock stopped. It read,