Gax stares at the few lines in his book, his shoulders feeling weighed down. Time is of the essence, for sooner or later things will go wrong, the wrong questions will be asked and his time here will be up. He thinks about the old man, the bulky young man, the people visiting the shop, the two working in the shop and it seems his training and hours spent with the team are all in vain. Gax stands up abruptly. What he needs is some hard work. He has been training for almost two years to get a six-pack, it would be a disaster to let it run down. By not having one he will stand out, making himself an object of dangerous scrutiny before he has even started.
Gax packs his gym bag, double checking the code to get into the gym, wondering again how and where Linu found this code. He had hinted at this question a few times, but Linu had always shrugged and laughed, telling him that she’d have to kill him if she told him. He had rolled his eyes. She had turned serious then, telling him that a little knowledge was a dangerous thing. She had explained that anyone with some know-how could tell when an amateur had tried to hack into the system and that it was necessary to cover all tracks extremely well. “Even so,” she had warned him, “as soon as they’re suspicious, they might look into your background more carefully and they’ll be able to tell that you hacked your way into Elabi. So don’t waste time.”
He tells Yulra to switch off the music, locks the door behind him, and sets off to the gym, in the opposite direction to the city road. Gax feels the heat but also a sense of excitement. He is absolutely determined to make connections this evening, to redeem the time. Today he has wasted too many opportunities, but now he’s ready to talk to somebody, to build a bridge, to… to be an operator, to put his months and months of arduous training into practice. He can just see himself later this evening, scribbling away in his diary, wishing for his team to be there to share in the excitement.
Chapter 8
The heat outside is oppressive. The idea of working up a sweat inside the gym doesn’t inspire him. Gax shudders when he thinks back to the beginning of his training. As soon as it became known that his mission destination was going to be Elabi, his team leader assigned him a personal fitness trainer. Not just to make it into Elabi, but because having a six-pack as a young adult male was a must, a sign of belonging in society, a sign of self respect. Gax didn’t have a six-pack. Not even when holding in his breath, or making himself tall. That just stopped his flabby belly hanging over the top of his trousers.
Training had been hard, and he found the daily visits to the gym a nightmare. Gradually, though, his flabbiness disappeared, he could run downstairs without getting out of breath and even the training sessions became almost enjoyable. His trainer was encouraging and tactful, his eyes only widening slightly when reading Gax’s heartrate on his first fast paced treadmill walk. It took nearly two years for Gax to be physically ready, almost the entire duration of his Special Forces training. Now he’s here and part of him is elated, feeling he’s arrived. The other part of him feels strangely deflated, as this day hasn’t gone the way he had envisioned. However, walking along the hot, dusty road, Gax feels his spirits recover. Surely in the gym he should be able to connect with someone. At least there is some common ground there. The gym is close to his house and Gax is glad to walk through the tall doors, admiring the terracotta columns. Inside it’s wonderfully cool, a tall water fountain making a pleasant sound. The floor has beautiful coloured tiles, and Gax walks slowly over the mosaics of the first hall to a huge carved door. The door has a number lock. Gax types in the numbers, his sweaty fingers slipping on the buttons. Will Linu have had the right code? What happens if the code is wrong…?
A little green light flashes for a moment, before the huge doors open noiselessly and a male automated voice says softly, “Welcome to our Gymnasium. Please type in your unique code on the keypad on your right.” Gax sees a little stand with a number pad. He types in his personal code, and the same voice says, “Thank you, Mr G. Y. Mallius. Please go through the door on your left. We can see you have not been here for a little while and want to update you on some of our newest equipment.” Gax nods, even though he is pretty sure the automated servants can’t see him. He isn’t sure what to think of the Voice knowing his name. It makes him feel watched, observed. Will the thing listen in on conversations in the gym as well? He will have to be careful in that case and it will make the others cautious as well, hampering his objectives.
He walks through the door on his left, coming into a small, pleasant room where an enormous screen hangs. A smiling, very well-built young man appears on the screen as soon as Gax walks in. “Good evening, and welcome back,” the young man flashes some healthy teeth at him, “this is just a quick refresher. This ground floor contains the cooling down room, the pool and changing rooms. Upstairs you will find our equipment. Please be considerate of others and remember that this is your journey and you are taking care of yourself in the best way possible. Our automated servant is on hand to answer your questions and to play your music through the headphones provided.” Health and safety instructions follow, as well as a brief visual tour of the facilities, with special attention to one or two new machines. Gax walks out, trying to remember it all, picks up a set of headphones, and goes upstairs.
After an hour, dripping with sweat, Gax decides that his six-pack is safe for another day or so. He walks downstairs to the beautifully decorated cooling down room, with several water fountains and small murmuring waterfalls. There are quite a few people stretching and twisting, and Gax manages to get a space reasonably close to two people. He takes a deep breath, as he feels this is the hour of truth. He must speak to someone, his mission has to start. He turns to the dark haired, broad shouldered man next to him. “Hey! I noticed your wrist protectors, they look great, they do,” he says, trying to speak naturally, lilting, without struggling for air. The man raises his chin and grunts. Gax stretches his other leg, takes a deep breath, and tries again. “Have you had them long?” The man shrugs one large, bulky shoulder, barely looking at Gax.
“A while,” he says, then, raising his chin, he grabs his gym bag and Gax’s prospective connection disappears out of the cooling room. Gax sinks down on the floor, along with his heart. He stretches his back muscle, feeling exhausted and frustrated. He looks at the rather plump girl the other side of him. Her face is beautiful, even though it’s looking damp with sweat. She catches his eyes and shrugs. She raises her chin, the little dimple in the middle of it showing, her dark eyes sparkling, as if she can tell he feels snubbed.
“He never says anything,” she says, her voice surprisingly clear but soft, and Gax feels relieved. Somebody is finally talking to me, he thinks, feeling better already. “I don’t think I have seen you on a Thirday evening before, have I?” she continues. Gax shakes his head and explains that he has just moved into a relative’s house down the road. The girl looks at him again, then they both twist and turn their muscles for a bit, Gax feeling stronger than ever. He runs through the bit of conversation over and over, just to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. His thoughts weigh up his answer, that he has just moved into a relative’s house. This is true, though that relative was pretty far removed, but even so. Then his mind recalls something, making his heart give a tiny stutter. It was the way the girl’s flecked eyes went quiet, just for a second, after he had said that. Should he think anything of that? Maybe he should have been more forthcoming? Maybe she felt he was holding back, being too vague? Should he…
The girl looks at him over her shoulder, “Have you started your employment yet?” He nods, and explains that he has just started at the bookshop in the city. He tries to make it sound like a dream come true. Loving books helps, and Gax feels he has been quite successful in making it sound great. The girl nods, “Yes, I have been there before. I want to work at the Sanatorium as a technician, and needed a book for my exams.” He asks the girl how the exams went, and she looks a little surprised, with again that smallest hint of quietness in her eyes. “The exams will be n
ext week,” she says and he hits his forehead.
“Of course, sorry, like I said, it has been a very long day.” They both laugh, but Gax feels the tiny nervous squeezing feeling in his stomach. That was another close shave, he thinks, realising that the thing that is going to get him noticed isn’t a big slip up. “Do you workout every day?” he asks her and she grimaces.
“I need to, I really do, but I have been so busy with the exam preparation, that I haven’t lately. I will though, as it does help me to feel better.” Gax agrees, yes, after the initial shock to the system, he had felt much better. “I’ll be sore tomorrow though,” the girl laughs, pulling a painful face. She gets up, taking her gym bag and adds, “Might see you tomorrow. Have a good day,” and she is off, leaving Gax on the floor, stretching his hamstrings again. His heart is having its own workout though, as Gax is so excited. He has made his first contact, his first connection. There is even a chance for a follow up, she has said that she might see him tomorrow. He allows his mind to wander and dream, imagining the two of them having a deep conversation, when he hears the automated voice telling somebody else that the massage they ordered is now available. Gax comes back down with a start. So much for a deep, private conversation.
On the walk home from the gymnasium Gax feels lighter and for the first time since arriving in Elabi he allows himself to think the mission is doable. Working in the bookshop, meeting the old man outside the building that used to be the shop; it all had made Gax think the mission was in vain, doomed from the start, a hopeless task. The team leader had warned Gax all through his training and preparation that Elabi was a near impossible task, that no operator had ever succeeded, but Gax had been full of enthusiasm, convinced of his skills and abilities. Somewhere on his exhausting journey into Elabi that self-confidence had been left behind. Gax doesn’t want to dwell on the reasons. Instead, he’d rather revel in the fact that he has just managed to establish his first contact.
Gax gets his diary out again and adds tonight’s meeting. He is almost tempted to read more into it than it really was, but in the end decides to be honest with himself. He is looking forward to tomorrow evening, wondering what line to take, especially as the automated servant will be listening in. How can he avoid getting into trouble, but still talk to the girl? How do people here make deep connections, knowing they’re being listened to all the time? Why, a guy can’t even tell a girl that he’s in love with her, or Brutus Durus AMP will appear and give a stern lecture. He notes that both the man in the gym and the young shop assistant don’t want to have a conversation, not even polite chitchat. His question about the watch should have led to a little conversation about best places to buy stuff, but no, the guy just walked off without saying bye, or see you. Nothing at all and Gax finds himself wondering about it. “The shop assistant as well,” he says, “both of them. How hard can it be?” Yulra promptly tells him she cannot help, as she doesn’t know what the topic is, and therefore she doesn’t know how hard it could be.
The next morning Gax is keen to go to the city again. A long day in the bookshop doesn’t appeal to him, but he is excited about going to the gym in the evening and the chance to meet the girl again. During the hot walk Gax looks with distaste at his dusty toes. “Yuck, and I only just cleaned them,” he mutters, longing to wear his sturdy walking boots again, with his soft, thermal socks. The guards look grumpy as ever, and Gax imagines them staring at him longer than necessary. When he glances round just before walking round the corner he is alarmed to find the two guards are still staring at him. Gax is glad when he is out of their sight, but his heart rate is worse than at his first treadmill session. Has he been noted again? Has the old man spread the word? Could the girl have mentioned that he was unaware of the exam dates? Gax doesn’t meet as many other people on the streets either. What is going on? He is only a few minutes earlier than yesterday, but he struggles to spot other workers. Gax walks a little faster, feeling suddenly like he is standing out, noticeable, rather than blending in like he should as an operator. Is there a reason for the quietness? Is it a holiday? But no, the manager said he’d see him in the morning, so he was definitely expecting the shop to be open today. He feels relieved when the shop is in view, but his heart flips when he finds the door locked. Locked and the lights are off.
Chapter 9
Why would the shop still be locked? He was told to be there by eight, wasn’t he? Just as Gax is thinking about his options he hears the thumping footsteps of the manager. Gax raises his chin with a smile, relief bubbling up in him. This is short lived, however, for the manager barely raises his chin, his eyes hard and cold, his voice loud as usual, but with a grating edge. “Hadn’t taken you for the ambitious type,” he says, as he unlocks the door. “Tired of cleaning already, are we? Trying to oust me, on your second day. Well, you better not get your hopes up. Like I said, I have Umbo status, something you can only dream of at this stage.” He sneers at Gax, before stomping to his office.
The manager looks back at him and seeing the genuine shock and confusion, his voice loses its edge. “It’s just a job, Gax, just a job. Turning up way too early is weird. Who would do that? At your age you should be able to judge your timings better. Surely I don’t have to explain that to you, you’re a Consuete after all. That means you are classed as a skilled worker. The most important skill is to be who you are. Trying to show up an Umbo by getting somewhere before him isn’t going to improve your own upward mobility.” Gax swallows. Suddenly the empty streets make sense. So do the stares of the guards. He nods and then Grabus raises his chin with more enthusiasm this time. “Just do your job, that’s all, just do your job.”
Gax lowers himself on a chair in the staff room, his legs shaking suddenly. “Not another near miss, Gax,” he hisses, angry with himself. All this drama, just because he arrived two minutes before the manager. Seriously? He breathes in through his nose, exhales through his mouth, then jumps when Inritia’s cold voice asks what he has done this time.
“You’re early,” she continues, glaring at him, “why, do you think one shop assistant is enough?” Gax swallows, and shakes his head, telling her that he had been up anyway, so he decided to get to work once he was ready. She looks at him, as if he has just grown purple spots all over his face and asks, “Why? Why would you? You’re weird. You just make everyone look bad. That never ends well, you know. I saw you at the door yesterday, the door to the A-section.” Gax feels his face go ice cold, then hot and clammy, and he swallows again, opening his mouth to explain, but Inritia has turned away from him, then tells him over her shoulder, “That sort of nosiness gets you noticed, so does turning up at ridiculous times and listening to customer’s conversations…” The door slams behind her, leaving Gax behind, breathing hard. She noticed! What if she tells? But then, what if he denies? His thoughts trail off, no, he couldn’t possibly deny it, after all, she’s right. He can’t lie, he knows that. Gax wipes his sweaty face, annoyed to see that his hand is actually shaking.
Determined, Gax gets up, takes a clean cloth from the tall cupboard, then leaves the staffroom. He decides to go to the children’s section today. The corner with children’s books looks bright and cheerful and Gax thinks back to his own childhood. He hopes that at least this time he will recognise some books and smiles thinking of some of his favourite classics. By the time Gax gets to the end of the first shelf he feels more confused than ever. Not only hasn’t he seen a single book he recognised, some of the titles are odd. “The fall of the Logic Blocks,” he reads out loud and after a very quick glance over his shoulder he opens the brightly coloured pages. His eyes race along the lines, growing wider as he goes. By the time he closes the book and puts it back on the shelf, Gax has forgotten what his job is. He stares at the bookshelves without seeing them, his hands idly twiddling the cloth, like a mirror image of his brain, twisted and knotted. “Trouble waking up again,” Inritia makes him jump and Gax feels a sudden resentment against the woman. Making him jump and feel guilty twice a morning
is too much. He is about to snap back at her, but his training kicks in.
He smiles at her, shrugs his shoulders and says, “Just got distracted by the bright, cheerful colours, that’s all. Which is your favourite book?” She looks at him. Gax can feel his face warming up again, regretting his question already, suddenly afraid it was another taboo. Are no feelings or emotions up for discussion in this city? He rubs his neck and traces his fringe line with his thumb, missing the curls there.
“What do you mean favourite?” She asks in the end, looking at him in disgust. “Why would you have a favourite? They’re just books, there to help you grow, gain knowledge, pass tests. Although I admit,” she added, softening, “I liked my lower school books better. They seemed to hold my attention, I suppose.” Gax nods, thinking that this isn’t the answer he had been expecting. Surely someone working at a bookshop loves books. Inritia makes it sound as if books are merely vehicles for information. When she walks off he starts scrubbing the shelves again, checking out the titles at the same time. When Gax gets to the end of the young children’s section he has come to understand Inritia’s comment. There are no standard Mummy I Love You books, or My Daddy is the Best. The books seem to all be about passing on useful information, even if it’s woven into a story setting. Although many are bright coloured with some wonderful illustrations, not one of them shows a setting that differs from Elabi. Of course there is the beach, the sea, the river, and the hills, but nothing else. There are a great variety of colours, but they still depict the same sort of scenes, the same types of buildings.
Walled City (The Elabi Chronicles Book 1) Page 5
