by Andrew Gates
“That’s classified, I’m afraid,” the man replied.
Blatant disrespect, Tracey thought. He comes to bring me bad news but spares me the details. This was part of the reason he could never stand the military. He decided to keep the men out in the hall for a bit longer.
“Fuck classified,” he replied.
The men did not seem fazed.
“Sorry to have to tell you this, sir,” the whitecoat continued.
“Is this how you treat your fellow Navy?” Tracey interrupted.
The man paused for a moment and put his cap back on his head. His two guards followed.
“I’m sorry sir, but you are no longer Navy. You quit, if I recall,” he replied.
“I’m glad you boys have done your research. But look, I was one of you. My brother is still one of you. We’re all the same here, gentlemen. What makes you think you can come here and treat me with this kind of trogshit?” Tracey said, knowing his lecture would not change any of their minds.
“Classified my ass.”
The man paused and took a deep breath, then looked up into Tracey’s eyes.
“Sir, do you think we could come in?”
“You can stay right there.”
Tracey met the man’s eyes. They were deep pools of black, like the thick oily hair on his head. One look at this man and Tracey had him all figured out. He was in his mid-thirties, probably with more kids than the government would allow, all legal though through connections with Ortega, or Sandra Walter more likely, that fucking whore. There was something about this man, the way his sentences sounded like recited lines, the way he stood with his back straight and the way he commanded his guards like tools in a kit. He was probably brought up in one of the wealthy sectors, raised in a home with enough white space to fit three families, Tracey thought. I bet he drank real milk every night, not that synthetic shit the government gave the rest of the military. I wonder how long he had to ride that elevator to get here today.
“Very well, we will not come in, but you must hear more of what we have to say,” the man continued.
“But apparently it’s classified,” Tracey replied.
“Do you even care about your brother?” the man asked, finally showing signs of frustration.
“Do you?”
Tracey knew he had him there. Turned the table on you, you educated shit.
“No,” the man said after a pause, “but I’m concerned about you. You’re right, I did my research. You went AWOL. And that’s not all. Synthetic Looper Inhalant, yeah I know about it. I have enough on you to lock you up if you want to play this game. Do you want that? Do you want your daughter there to wonder where you are? Then you should stay quiet and let me do my job. By the way, you don’t look so good right now. Can we please come in?”
Fuck.
There was no negotiating with him at this point. Tracey removed his hand from the doorway and motioned the three men to come inside.
“So,” he said as the three whitecoats made their way in, “tell me about my brother’s M.I.A. case. As much as you’re allowed, that is.” He would at least try to be polite for now.
The dark-haired man entered first with his two guards following behind. One of them closed the door as the others helped themselves to a seat. Enough of all this fake politeness; just get to my brother.
Tracey pressed his hand against his head again and rubbed the skin under his eyes. That damn hangover. Fuck.
“That’s better Mr. Saljov,” he said tauntingly. He knows he holds all the fucking cards and he’s loving it. “Now I will brief you on the status of your brother, or as much as I’m allowed, as you say.” Tracey was not amused by this comment. “Yesterday your brother was involved in a testing operation of a new vessel. The test was intended to take this new craft higher than any other craft since the Descent.”
“What was the craft?”
“As of now, that’s classified.”
“What was the craft?” Tracey asked again. This prompted the man to lean forward sternly.
“I’m not here to play games, Mr. Saljov. How’s that headache?” The man paused for a moment, inviting Tracey to respond. But he remained silent. As much as it pained him to treat this man with respect, he knew where the real power lied.
“As of now specific details of the craft are classified,” he continued. “However, during this mission, he and the pilot, Captain Sara Gessetti, were intercepted.” The man held his cap down by his chest. The others followed suit. “I am sorry to tell you sir, but we do believe your brother’s craft was attacked and he is likely dead.” At this point there was no taunt to the man’s voice. He meant every word.
“Attacked?” Tracey asked in disbelief. “Attacked by who?”
“Details regarding the attackers are also classified,” he answered as scripted as a recording. The man was like a machine.
Cold, heartless, orderly.
“You fucking piece of shit,” Tracey spat out, suddenly losing all composure. “You expect me to accept that answer?” He stood up from his seat and glared into the man’s eyes. The guards stood up too, ready to get involved at any second.
Tracey no longer felt his hangover. He no longer felt anything but a desire for answers.
“There is no enemy. There is no attacker. You fuckers lost my brother and you’re coming to me telling me-“
“I’m telling you, Mr. Saljov, that he was attacked!” the man stood up and met his intensity. At least he’s not always like a robot.
“And I’m telling you, that’s impossible!” Tracey replied. “Who the fuck attacked him? And don’t give me that ‘classified’ trogshit. There is no enemy out there. Who was it? A fucking fish? Did the Navy’s new experimental craft get torn apart by a couple of marlins and a goddamn octopus or are you covering up some trogshit failure on the part of your goddamn boss? How did you get that fucking rank anyway, Mr. I-forget-your-fucking-name? What’s Sandra Walter like in bed, huh? Either give me some fucking answers or get out of my goddamn home.”
“I’m afraid I cannot do either of those things Mr. Saljov,” the man responded.
Tracey took a deep breath. He knew he’d lost it, but his frustration was just too hard to control. My brother is dead. My own goddamn brother. I deserve some answers. He bowed his head, took a few seconds and then raised his head again, trying to recompose himself.
“Alright then,” he replied, trying to stay calm. “What’s the next step then? What happens now, huh?” he asked.
“Now we bring you in for questioning,” the man answered.
Tracey felt his heart almost stop for a moment. The image of his daughter ran through his head. Questioning. So they’ve finally got me.
“Do I have a say in this?” he asked, knowing full well that his question was futile.
“No you do not, sir,” the man responded.
Tracey continued to fake his calmness. He looked down one more time and took another breath.
“What about my daughter?” he asked.
“Say goodbye to her now,” the man replied, “but as long as you are helpful, you will not be gone long. You should be back by the end of the day to take care of her. That is, of course, if you cooperate.”
The end of the day. That was not the response Tracey had expected.
“You mean you’re not taking me away?” he asked, relieved.
“Not at all,” the man responded, shaking his head. “As far as we’re concerned, you are not important right now. This questioning is in regards to your brother.”
“I’m confused. So you guys just want to ask about my brother? Are you guys looking for fucking clues or something?”
The man nodded.
“Any information you can give us about your brother may be helpful in this case. Your questioning will not be conducted by one of my soldiers, but by Dr. Sanja Parnel, head of your brother’s investigation.”
Thank the Lord Beyond Both Seas, he thought. I can’t stand these goddamn Navy men. Suddenly this did
not seem so bad. It was certainly better than going to work and driving a loader all day.
“Good,” he said. “I can’t stand another one of you tough guys treating me like this. About time I can talk to someone decent.”
This comment brought a grin to the man’s face. He chuckled, showing his first signs of amusement all day.
“Oh no, Mr. Saljov, trust me, Dr. Parnel is no Navy man. She is much worse.”
THE CLASSROOM WAS CROWDED WHEN IRIS walked in. Although she was fairly certain no one was watching, Iris felt as if every face looked up as she entered. It was like their eyes followed her, the way she imagined an animal followed its prey in the old days. She noticed that the chairs were arranged in a circle shape around the room. Most of them were filled, but there were a few empty seats here and there. She ignored the paranoia in her head and found the nearest open seat between two handsome men to the left and a plump older woman to the right.
The men to her left looked very similar, almost twins even. They both had curly hair and dark black eyes. The man closest to her wore a black blazer over a white button-down shirt with a pair of glasses tucked into the front pocket. He had a thin dark beard hugging his chin, but her eyes were more concerned with the man’s body than his face. He was a well-built man, made apparent by the tightness of his clothes. She imagined he was the type who spent each afternoon at the fitness center.
The man next to him, further away from Iris, was cleanly shaven and slightly thinner but otherwise seemed similar enough. Beyond the simple facial features, the way they both sat and carried themselves were almost identical. She guessed they must have been twins. This one wore a white button-down shirt as well, but with a yellow tie and no blazer.
The first man, the one closest to her chosen seat, stood up and held out his hand as she sat down in the chair. She shook his hand and pulled out the desk in front of it, but stopped once she realized the chair and desk were connected.
“Hello,” she greeted. She looked down at the chair/desk combination she had pulled towards herself, slightly embarrassed. “Oh, whoops,” she said aloud.
“Yeah, they’re connected. It’s all one piece,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. Daniel, nice to meet you, or just Dan.”
Iris smiled and remained standing. She stared into his dark eyes. There was something comforting to her about the darkness. There always had been. That was why she dyed her hair in the first place. And he’s so handsome, she thought.
“Daniel, Iris,” she replied. Iris broke the handshake and sat down in the chair.
“You’re the new history teacher?” the handsome man asked.
Iris nodded her head.
“Ah! Miss Vitneskja,” he continued. “Or is it Misses Vitneskja?”
“Miss,” she answered.
“What is that, Russian?”
Iris shook her head.
“Icelandic, not many people know it.” She studied around the room, noticing that everyone seemed to be involved with their own little conversations, including the plump older woman to her right with dark skin.
Keep talking, she told herself. Don’t appear shy.
She was never one for small talk. In general she tended to avoid most social situations. She preferred sitting in her apartment, studying old books from the surface that were later uploaded to the Meganet. That’s how she spent most of her days: alone, reading about the past in her sweatshirt, not out talking and mingling.
“So what do you teach?” she asked, turning back to the handsome man called Daniel.
He adjusted in his seat.
“I’m a science teacher. I’ve been here for about two years now,” he replied. “And this is my brother,” he said as he leaned back and patted the shoulder of the man next to him, “Greyson. He teaches math.”
The man called Greyson leaned forward, pulled from whatever conversation he was in with the Sub-Saharan looking man next to him. Their eyes met. Iris felt that he seemed less confident than his brother, though she could not explain why.
“Iris,” she said as she leaned over Daniel to shake his brother’s hand. “So you’re brothers. Twins?”
Greyson laughed and Daniel shook his head.
“People ask us that all the time,” Daniel replied. “We’re actually two years apart. I bet you can’t guess my age.”
Iris chuckled. Was she really going to play the age guessing game with someone she had only just met?
“35,” she guessed.
Greyson smiled again.
“Me or him?” asked Daniel.
“Oh yeah, uh, your brother is 35 so you are 37,” she clarified.
Greyson raised his eyebrows as if to suggest he was impressed. The two brothers made eye contact for a moment.
“Wow, she was really close!” Greyson said to his brother.
They both turned to face Iris again.
“He’s 34. I’m 36,” Daniel answered. “Good guess. You almost had it.”
Iris blushed. She was not used to getting this attention. Was this normal behavior for a first meeting? She did not think so.
Suddenly a hand came towards her from the other direction. Iris jolted in surprise, feeling overwhelmed. The new teacher took a deep breath and looked to her right, realizing that the woman beside her was offering out her hand. She shook it.
“Iris,” she nervously said to the stranger.
The woman next to her had long mop-like hair on her head, but neatly tied back in a ponytail. She wore a long colorful dress decorated with oranges, blacks and browns. She appeared to be a thicker woman, the opposite of Daniel, the type who probably had not visited the fitness center since she was in high school. As they shook hands, Iris noticed her wrist was covered in jewelry, but none of it metal. One bracelet seemed to be made of plastic beads, another of some sort of synthetic rope and many more that she could not exactly identify.
“Welcome, Iris!” she said to her with a big grin. “Jacella Sanyaolu, the student advisor.”
“Pleasure,” she replied, unable to match Jacella’s big grin. Iris tried to smile back but she knew it must have appeared awkward and forced. She was intimidated by this woman’s friendliness.
“Jacella’s been here forever,” Daniel interrupted, leaning over.
“Is that right?” Iris asked.
Jacella laughed and leaned back in her chair. Iris was worried she would fall right over or even break the desk. But the woman simply leaned forward again with that big smile still on her face.
“Forever? No, not quite forever. I’ve been here for the last 26 years though,” she replied.
“See retirement coming anytime soon?” Iris knew the question was rude the moment she asked it, but by the time she realized it, the words had already come out of her mouth. I need to get better at talking, she told herself.
Fortunately for her, Jacella did not seem offended in the slightest. The grin remained as large as ever. She simply shook her head.
“Not at all, at least not anytime soon. As long as I’m still able to work, I’ll be here. I love helping out the kids. They come to me with their problems and I help if I can. I also love coming back every year and meeting all the new teachers,” she said as she patted Iris on the back.
“Well it’s good to do what you love.”
Jacella leaned back and aimed her arms towards the man to her right, a man Iris had already met. He was a tall, thick, balding man with white hair and a thin beard. He wore a classic white shirt with a black tie and a black blazer. It looked like he had bought it all straight off the mannequin.
“Oh Iris dear, have you met the principle of the school, Tim?”
Iris nodded, leaned forward and shook the principle’s hand.
“Yes, Mr. Hanson. We have already been introduced,” she replied.
Iris had met Mr. Hanson during the interview and had been in contact many times since. She considered him to be jolly man who loved his job, but not particularly intelligent.
“Oh, please, you can call me Ti
m. Only the students call me Mr. Hanson,” he said as they shook hands.
“Sorry, Mr. uh… Tim,” she replied awkwardly as she let go of his hand.
She quickly scanned the room, looking for anyone else she had already met. Where is the head of the history department? She wondered. She could not find him. Iris assumed he just had not arrived yet. For the life of her, she could not remember his name.
“See anyone else you know?” asked Daniel, obviously noticing her glances.
Iris quickly turned her gaze towards his and placed her hand underneath her jaw, balancing her arm on the desk. She realized she was making an awkward face and quickly tried to make it look normal again. She hoped he hadn’t seen it.
“Huh? What’s that?” she asked. She heard him perfectly, but did not have a quick response. She suddenly felt like a little girl. What are you doing? She asked herself. For some reason Daniel was making her nervous. She did not understand why.
“I said see anyone you know?” he repeated.
Iris searched around again.
“No. Nobody. I met the principle before, but I don’t recognize anyone else here. Except you,” she said, realizing almost immediately how horrible her joke was.
Daniel smiled.
“Well we’ve only just met,” he said. “I don’t think I count.”
Iris needed to save this conversation. She needed to change the subject quickly.
“So, Daniel, since you’re so fond of the guessing game, how old do you think I am?” she asked. That’s no better, she realized. Why are you going back to the age game again?
But once again, Daniel did not seem to mind.
“Well I’d guess 29, he said. And just call me Dan. Dan is fine.”
Iris shook her head.
“You’re close. Just as close as I was,” she answered.
“High or low?” he asked.
Iris smiled.
“What do you think?”
Daniel smiled back and thought about it for a moment. He looked into her eyes, as if to study her, as if the answer to her question could be found in the hollowness of her eyes.
“I’m high,” he answered confidently. “You’re 28.”
