The Cypher

by Julian Rosado-Machain

  The mind reading trick again! “How did you… ”

  “Everyone asks the same thing,” she snapped, cutting his question short. “I even know how to answer the next one.” She stared at him as if daring him to ask it.

  Thomas pursed his lips, “Very well then,” he said. “What’s the answer?”

  “We do have them in electronic format too, but we need them in print for a very specific reason.” She raised an eyebrow at him, his face betrayed that she had answered correctly.

  Behind her, a glass elevator appeared on a rail from the left.

  “You don’t need to check out with me, Mr. Byrne. But if I need you to stay longer I can notify you up to five minutes before your shift ends.”

  “So you work here alone?” he asked as she entered the elevator.

  “Not anymore. Apparently.” The elevators doors closed. “Bathroom is on the left. I’ll see you tomorrow. Won’t I, Mr. Byrne?”

  “Definitely,” he answered but saw the eyebrow lifting. He added, “Mrs. Pianova.” The librarian nodded approvingly. Apprehension or not, now that he saw the library he wanted to work here.

  He wanted to know more.

  The elevator moved to the left and the doors to the library closed immediately, leaving Thomas at his little station.

  He was about to touch the panel to open the doors and take another look at the library when he heard someone requesting attention from his desk.

  “I don’t have all day, you know?”

  He knew that voice. He turned around. Vice Principal Khanna was tapping on his desk with a metal pad. As always, she grasped her coffee mug and dangling from her neck was a black tag with her photo and a barcode.

  “Coming,” he said walking briskly to his station.

  “Thomas Byrne,” Killjoy stopped tapping. “Where is Mrs. Pianova?”

  “She’s in the library.” He sat down at his desk. “How can I help you?” He crossed his hands in front of him mimicking the hand movements she made when he had been in her office.

  He’d thought long and hard about his interview with Killjoy, and decided that she had been more than fair with him. She’d been helpful, and somehow, she’d even made him feel like he needed to improve himself. To push it a little more. He wanted to prove to her that he wasn’t just a bully or another of the thousand transient students she met in school every year.

  Meeting Killjoy in the library could very well be such an opportunity; she seemed to be less somber than in school, less in character.

  Plus, she’d made it clear that he didn’t need to fear her, and although this was his first day on the job, she was on his turf now.

  “So I give you a week suspension and you end up working here?” She flashed him a friendly smirk. “Who’d have imagined it?”

  Killjoy was definitely less frightening out of school.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he returned her smile. “First day.”

  “And I guess I’m your first customer?”

  “Yeah, how can I help you?”

  “I need the texts of Jiang Ziya.”

  Thomas typed the name into the computer. A name appeared immediately next to the book title, The Six Secret Strategic Teachings.

  “First mistake, Thomas.” Killjoy smirked again. “Use your laser scanner on the tags before searching for books.”

  Thomas grabbed the scanner hanging from the side of the monitor and scanned Killjoy’s tag. The computer filled his screen with an expanded list, and the surface of the desk lit up to a screen for Killjoy to read.

  “I need, The Thirteen Secret Strategic Teachings and his annotated Art of War. The addendum to The Wuzi, and throw in the other three books written by Wu Qi. Original form, unabridged and uncut.”

  He highlighted the selections and the computer displayed the number and row where she could find them.

  “I’ll give you a hand,” he said getting out from behind his desk.

  “You’re not supposed to,” she told him. “But thank you.”

  Thomas walked the aisles and he found all six books exactly where the computer had told him to search. One of the books was very heavy and he had to make an extra trip to retrieve it.

  He piled the books on top of his desk. “Ready.”

  “Almost.” Killjoy pointed to his screen with the coffee mug. A note appeared on his screen that he needed to read aloud to Killjoy.

  “Are you planning to use the items in the reading room or take them to your primary uhm… commorancy?”

  He looked back at Killjoy. The pile of books was gone. He looked on his side of the desk but they hadn’t fallen. He hadn’t heard anything either, no scraping or shuffling. The books were simply not there. They disappeared.

  “What the…” he began but Killjoy interrupted.

  “To my commorancy, Thomas,” she said still smirking. “Apartment, abode. I’m taking them home. Thank you.”

  His computer beeped once, all the screens closed, and the surface of his desk turned off. Killjoy turned around and walked toward the exit, swaying her empty coffee mug.

  Thomas leaned over his desk to see if she had dropped the books but they had simply vanished.

  “Please say hello to your grandfather for me,” Killjoy said as she left the room.

  “Sure,” he said scratching his head. His job at the library was officially under way.

  The Work of an Assistant Librarian

  With the exception of the life and death requests Mrs. Pianova told him he would get sometimes, Thomas’s work over the next two weeks at the library had been exactly as she had foretold. The people that came to the library were as varied as the books they requested. Not all of the visitors spoke English. Sometimes, guests would hand him a printed page to input into the computer and the software let him know what aisle the books were stored. So far, every single book, newspaper, or map had been easily reachable and he had not needed to call Mrs. Pianova for help. But, she always showed up to check on him a couple of minutes each day.

  Just to make him aware that he was on her radar.

  Thomas’s desk didn’t light up for everyone as it had done with Killjoy. Most of the badges people handed him only filled his screen with limited options and he had to read aloud the choices for his customers. The colored badge system reminded him of the colored belts he used in Tae Kwon Do. His own badge was black, but with a wide vertical green stripe. He’d seen almost every color with stripes. But Killjoy’s badge had been the only solid black so far.

  He’d used the special books drawer only once. A young wiry man, wearing thick glasses, handed him an orange and black badge and requested Sonnets 262-267, For a River Nymph, by William Shakespeare.

  When Thomas entered the title of the book, questions popped up on his screen and the computer began to record the conversation automatically.

  “Unabridged, translated, or original pronunciation?” Thomas asked.

  “Original pronunciation, but with accompanying rituals,” the man said tightening his belt. He wore his pants high, straight up to his bellybutton, and his belt buckle was large and etched with a dragon about to take flight over a rock bridge.

  Thomas entered the information and read back what appeared on screen. “Um, only repelling rituals are allowed with your clearance.”

  “Oh…” the man sighed. “Do you think I’ll need them?”

  Another pop-up appeared. “With seventy two percent probability.”

  “Ok then,” the man tapped on the counter. “Just in case.”

  “Reference or take-out?” appeared on screen, and Thomas felt as if he was in a fast food joint after all.

  “Take out,” the man answered sharply.

  As soon as Thomas entered the information, there was a sucking sound and a thump on the right drawer, as if the book had been dropped in by some unseen mechanism. He tried opening the drawer, but it was locked. A flashing warning appeared on the screen informing Thomas that he was supposed to read it aloud.

  “Rituals effective for W
estern Europe’s rivers only. Ireland excluded. Guardians Inc. is not responsible for misprints and/or mispronunciations. Full instructions and limitations printed on ritual manuals. Do you agree with this license?”

  “I do,” the man said. “And I also agree to all other screens.” He had surely dealt with these details before.

  A last pop-up screen remained and Thomas read it aloud: “Ritual license expires on the second waning gibbous moon after being issued. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” the man said and Thomas scanned his badge again. The drawer unlocked and Thomas handed out the books — they were still warm, as if just coming out from a copy machine. The front cover of the book depicted a man, probably William Shakespeare himself, sitting on a rock by a river. He was reading to a group of beautiful girls that were in rapt contemplation from the water.

  The man couldn’t suppress a grin as he grabbed the book and walked out from the station at a brisk pace.

  “Good luck,” Thomas said as the man left. He typed in the name of the book on the external Web browser.

  Thomas had figured out that many of the books he’d given out during his two weeks of working there didn’t seem to exist outside of the library.

  The first book he’d noticed was The Return of the Nautilus, by Jules Verne. He’d read both 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Mysterious Island, and Captain Nemo was one of his favorite characters. He’d tried to find a sequel in bookstores and on the Web, but according to all browsers, the book had never been written.

  After he discovered this, he’d requested a copy for himself, but his clearance didn’t allow it and he wasn’t about to ask Mrs. Pianova for permission.

  His badge was black with a green stripe.

  The badge system was really weird. According to the company policies he’d read, black badges were not common and were reserved to the most important members of Guardians Inc. and satellite companies. The stripes meant the actual access the person had to the company’s assets and information.

  Grandpa’s badge was red with a purple stripe, so in a way, Thomas’s job was more important than grandpa’s, but he had less access.

  He thought about asking grandpa to get the book for him, but he already knew that he would refuse. He’d even played the conversation in his head. Grandpa would ask him why he couldn’t get it himself, he would tell him why, and grandpa would say that using his badge was cheating.

  Cheating was a no-no for Gramps.

  The love to read was the one thing both his parents had instilled in him since he was a little boy. His mother always told him stories of nature and fantasy heroes. Kings, queens and dragons, thieves, wizards and pirates. The Princess Bride was a favorite of hers, and it became a favorite for him too.

  His dad was more of a sci-fi vein – space operas and far away planets. The moon was old news; it was conflict on a galactic scale that drew him, Ender’s Game and Dune. Alien cultures and spaceships, the future that could be or that should be avoided, like in Orwell’s 1984.

  How much would dad have loved to read 1987 or 1999?

  He suddenly felt infuriated. His badge allowed him to see almost all the titles of the works stored in the library, but only the titles. He couldn’t order any of them to take home.

  One night, while he couldn’t sleep, he’d snuck downstairs -careful not to wake grandpa -and browsed the Internet for famous books that have been lost over time. The next day, he’d punched all the titles into the library’s database and found them all. Not only that, there were thousands of titles not named on the list that Guardians Inc. had in storage. Books lost to vandalism, to war, accidents, or even because the authors wanted them destroyed after their death – the library had copies, safe and sound. Thomas couldn’t get a copy of The Return of the Nautilus, but his clearance allowed him to discover that Verne had been a member of Guardians Inc. for most of his life, and that he had written other books, including three more fantastic voyages of Captain Nemo that were never published and were patiently waiting to be unveiled.

  As he’d suspected, Sonnets 262-267 For a River Nymph was another work that was zealously kept from the world at large.

  He began to love his job, being in the library with access, or partial access, to works that nobody knew about and for whom people would surely pay millions made him feel incredibly special.

  On the other hand, he felt a little isolated from the visitors and other mansion staff. They came and went by his station, never lingering after receiving the book they requested. The reading desks were in the room across the hall from his station, and since each desk had an integrated computer and camera surveillance, there was no need for a guardian in the room.

  Apart from Bolswaithe, who every day went through his station to pick up trash or dust the desk, he was sure that nobody who came to the library knew his name and besides Killjoy and Mrs. Pianova, the only person who called him by name was the person that handled the gargoyle intercom at the gate. Every day, the same voice greeted him and wished him goodnight. “Hello, Thomas,” “Goodnight, Thomas,” became his official clock in and out. Since he walked or skated to work, he spent a couple of minutes standing under the gargoyles, and his original apprehension toward the statues disappeared. He even started saying hello and goodbye to the intercom.

  Maybe one day he would stop and chat a little.

  He’d not seen Tasha either, and his grandfather worked a completely different schedule and in a different wing of the mansion. Grandpa seemed happy though – his work as Overseer was incredibly satisfying and he had command over a veritable army of accountants. He told Thomas that Guardians Inc.’s influence was indeed worldwide. From economics to technology and resources, the company had interests in all fields and in all countries of the world. The work had invigorated his grandfather and he had stopped complaining about his arthritis.

  After Morgan studied the Non-Disclosure Agreement, they both signed it. They needed to turn it in during that week, but even without the agreement, they found it difficult to talk to other people about their jobs. It was easier to just say that they worked for a corporation. Strangely enough, the only person Thomas had talked to about the mansion was Killjoy, and only once.

  One day during school recess, curiosity had bested him and he approached her while she watched the yard from a second floor, like a hawk hunting for little mice.

  “Thomas Byrne,” she said sensing him.

  “Good morning, Miss Khanna.” He nonchalantly placed his elbows on the guardrail noting with satisfaction how many of his schoolmates took notice of his move.

  He was “The Survivor,” the one that had entered the lions’ den and came out unscathed. Everyone figured that his punishment had only been superficial, unlike the one she gave Roger Hill and his friends who still had to stay a couple of hours after school to clean around campus. So, now he was some kind of celebrity around school, the only one that greeted terrible Killjoy in the morning.

  “Are you here for something other than to try and aggrandize your reputation among your peers?” she asked when he lingered longer than other students dared.

  “Um, yes.” He immediately straightened his posture. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  She turned to face him. “Then ask.”

  “Well, I’ve noticed that you have a Guardians’ black tag and I wanted to know how you got it.”

  “Why?” she asked abruptly.

  “I also have a black tag, but mine has…”

  “A green stripe.” She cut him off. “That’s not an answer as to why you want a black tag.”

  “I want to…”

  “Show me your hands.” She cut him off again.

  Thomas extended his hands palms-up for her to see. This time she didn’t lift her glasses, and he didn’t pull back when he felt the tingling sensation growing on his palms. The tingling spread through his forearms and after a couple of seconds, the sensation retreated until it disappeared completely. Killjoy moved her head from side to side and she l
et go of his hands.

  “Curiosity killed the cat, you know?” she said turning toward the yard.

  “Um, sure,” he stepped away slowly.

  “You’d do well to keep your work and the outside world separate,” she told him. “I’ll be seeing you.”

  “I will, thank you.”

  Thomas vowed to never approach Killjoy in school as he quickened his pace toward the building. The kids that had seen the exchange gave him a weird look, and he rubbed his arms, trying to shake off the tingling sensation. The first time she had asked for his palms, he’d pulled them away the moment he felt it. This time, he’d allowed the tingling to continue until it disappeared before she released him. Maybe some of the stories about her where true after all.

  Maybe she was some sort of witch.

  ***

  Hours later, Thomas sat across from his grandfather at the dining room table.

  “So have you seen the cute assistant yet?” his grandfather snickered. He took a bite of a multi-grain bar.

  “Not yet,” Thomas continued eating. “But don’t worry gramps. I’ll tell you the truth.”

  “It’s money in the hole!” Morgan patted his suit pocket. He had made a bet with Thomas about his next encounter with Tasha, and he made sure to remind Thomas about it every day.

  “Whatever.” Thomas had found his own subject- changing-word. “How was work?”

  “Not much, a hundred million here, a couple billions there.”

  “Billions?”

  “Yes Tom, with a ‘B.’ In taxes, can you believe it? We pay taxes in billions. And not only in the United States.”

  “So how much does the company make then?”

  “I could tell you, but… you know.” Morgan smirked.

  “Curiosity killed the cat.” Thomas picked up both dishes and placed them in the sink.

  “Guess what I got today?” Morgan quickly left the table and walked back holding a cardboard box. He placed the box on the table and lifted out the item – a deep blue-and-silver Atheliol shaped like a cube.

  “Nice, gramps. Who gave it to you?” It wasn’t the same one he had solved; the colors and shapes of the filigree were different. He imagined that the story depicted once it was solved was different from the Battle of Troy he’d seen in the one he solved.