“I’m still not ready to talk about it,” I admitted before he could offer. “I’m just trying to keep it together for this meeting.”
“All right,” he said carefully, taking a step back. “After you.”
I moved before he even finished speaking, eager to get a little space between us so I could have a break from the confusing feelings Leo always seemed to generate in me.
Of all the concerns on my laundry list of concerns, my AI friend’s attraction to me was literally the last one I wanted to deal with.
We walked over another bridge in silence, and I was starting to turn my thoughts back toward the meeting, when Leo interrupted them, scattering them into oblivion with one simple question: “Can we talk about Jang-Mi, then?”
Anger gripped my spine immediately, and I grated my teeth together. “No,” I said flatly. “I made my decision about this last night.”
No, I thought angrily. You made a purely emotional decision based on anger and hatred, and dismissed a valid argument against it. Stop. Being. Angry.
I really, desperately wanted to. But I couldn’t disassociate Jang-Mi from the people who had controlled her. I felt trapped in a cycle, powerless to stop the unmitigated hatred I had for her.
And the blinding resentment that came whenever anyone advocated for her.
Please, let it go, Leo, I prayed. I was so close to boiling over at the sheer mention of her name, and if he pushed, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do or say, and the uncertainty terrified me.
“Liana, I know you’re worried, but I can take precautions to keep—”
“No,” I said, cutting him off, my rage so blinding that all semblance of reason deserted me. “I’m not letting that thing anywhere near a computer system. For all I care, she can stay in that hard drive from now until eternity.”
Leo’s eyes widened in horror. “Thing?” he said, his voice filled with hurt. “You think she’s a thing?”
My fists balled, immediately defensive. “You know what I meant. I’m not backing down on this.”
“No, I don’t know what you meant,” he said indignantly. “Liana, she may be an AI, but she has feelings and is clearly unstable. Who knows what she is doing to herself inside the hard drive? It isn’t exactly the most stimulating place for an AI to be. It’s awful, as a matter of fact, and by keeping her there, we’re torturing her!”
“Good!” I snapped back, spite burning through me. I wanted her to suffer, and if the hard drive was like a prison for her, then all the better. “She killed my mother.”
“It wasn’t her fault!” he sputtered. “How can you say that?”
“It was her fault,” I shouted back, temper snapping like a brittle twig. How could he stand there defending her after what she had done? When he knew the opportunity she had robbed me of? “She clearly had enough control to save Tian, but couldn’t resist killing Min-Ha or my mother. She’s weak, insane, and just as responsible as the men who used her to do it! That thing is lucky to even be alive, even if she is trapped in a damned hard drive!”
As soon as I fully heard the words I was saying, it was like a switch had been flipped, and all of my anger drained away, replaced instead by an icy feeling of dread. I was shocked by my own behavior, embarrassed that I had lost control, and mortified that I had even said any of that. I knew that Jang-Mi was our best option for getting Jasper—or at least the safest one.
But my feelings didn’t agree with my logic, and it seemed they were intent on winning, no matter how much I fought against them.
The blood drained from Leo’s face, and his features hardened an instant later, his entire body going rigid. “Well, if you’ll excuse this thing, I think I’ve heard enough,” he said stiffly. “Pardon me.”
He turned and stalked away. I stared at him for a second, knowing that I should go after him and apologize… but afraid of him mentioning Jang-Mi again and my anger taking control. I needed to get it together if I was ever going to get past this and give Leo the answer he deserved to hear.
But that wasn’t going to happen in the next fifteen seconds. Even now my anger was threatening to return and swallow me up. I’d go to the council meeting, distract myself with council business, and then sit down and figure out how I could get over this Jang-Mi issue so I could apologize to Leo and we could move forward.
Hopefully.
With that in mind, I turned and headed toward the Council Room. Everything else would have to wait.
10
To my surprise, the Council Room was empty when I entered. I quickly checked my indicator for the time, and realized I was about fifteen minutes early. The other councilors were undoubtedly on their way, and would be here any minute.
I rolled my lips between my teeth, exceedingly nervous about how it might appear to them if they found me here waiting for them. Half of me wanted to slip right back out of the circular room and go after Leo, but I resisted the urge. If I had time to further prepare for the meeting today, then I wasn’t about to waste it. Especially when I knew that running after Leo might only make things worse between us—which would do nothing to help my nerves.
I took a deep breath and stepped farther into the circular room, refamiliarizing myself with it. Wood stretched up the walls from the floor to a midway point, where I knew from experience that councilors’ desks sat, some fifteen feet up and overlooking the floor below.
I had stood on the small dais in the center of the room and felt the weight of their eyes upon me in silent judgment—and I’d hated it. Now, I was a part of it. Weird, right?
I walked around the perimeter of the circle, taking in the carved relief in front of each desk. Carvings depicted the insignia for each department—the rudimentary outline of Cogstown set against a mechanical gear for the Mechanics Department, where Lacey would sit; the five parallel pipes bound together by a single one inside a water droplet for Water Treatment at Praetor Strum’s spot; the Farming Department next to his, marked by a chaff of wheat; and then Scipio’s place, a spot marked by a Tower wreathed in lightning. Marcus Sage’s position was marked with the Medica’s cross, and Sadie’s by the insignia of IT, an eye circled by lightning, echoing Scipio’s own sigil to signify their devotion to his wellbeing.
My spot was between Sadie’s and Scipio’s, delineated with the Knight’s symbol: a fist thrust straight up. I stared at it, trying to find some meaning in its lines and design, some inspiration that would help boost my confidence, but all I could see was my mother and that sigil burning over her breast. The insignia was a point of pride for her. She’d loved the Knight’s Department more than any other, and had truly believed in what they stood for.
Even if it had caused her to do some grim things, like murdering ones.
But I put that aside, back into the little box I had created just for her and those feelings. As guilty as it made me feel, I did not want the council members coming in and seeing that I had been crying. I couldn’t afford to look weak in front of any one of them—even Lacey and Strum.
I cleared my throat and approached the spot marked by the Knights’ sigil. As soon as I was within five feet of the area just below it, a panel slid open, revealing a recessed area. I stepped in and found a narrow set of stairs to my right. They doubled back halfway up, and I had to duck my head to avoid hitting an overhanging ceiling, but that was easily surmounted.
At the top, I found a small office space behind a desk that overlooked the area below.
The desk was simple, with a larger screen waiting to be synced up to my pad. I quickly pulled it out and did just that, projecting my correspondence onto the screen. Several new messages had appeared since I left my quarters, and I realized they were all welcoming letters from the other councilors.
I clicked through them, but it didn’t take me long to pick up on the rather generic nature of the greetings. Welcome to the council; we are here if you have any questions; the fate of every citizen of the Tower rests on us… Blah blah blah.
I focused instead on the agenda items. T
he repeal of the expulsion act was right at the top, but there were other issues that needed to be addressed as well. When I had gone to bed last night, my docket had been filled with ten items, five of them jurisdictional disputes between Water Treatment, Farming, and the Cogs.
Three of those were now marked as having been resolved at some point during the night, and a quick look at the notes showed that agreements had been reached privately between the departments in question, with no further need for council action. The other two were still marked active, but there was nothing I needed to do about them, as they didn’t involve my department. My department and the Medica were the only ones without jurisdictional disputes, as the entire Tower was our jurisdiction.
The others, however, were always fighting about who got to repair what when it broke down. Water Treatment would insist that all water-related repairs be done by them, but if the issue was a mechanical one, the Cogs always wanted to get involved. The Farmers just never wanted anyone to tamper with their carefully cultivated crops, and fretted over everything from water temperature to pH balance changes that could affect them—something no farmer worth his salt would willingly allow.
The last two items were conflicts between Water Treatment and the Cogs, but I had a feeling they would be resolved soon enough, as the two were actually quite close. I was betting Lacey and Strum manufactured these reports to keep people from realizing they were working together, and wondered how they would act toward each other once the session began. For a second, I imagined them arguing with each other fiercely in mock anger, waving their fists and arms, and then dismissed it as pure fantasy. There was no way they’d get that theatrical about it. They were both too practical for that.
The other pending items were requests from departments to run drills or tests on equipment, which required the council’s approval so that announcements could be made to prepare any people affected during the tests. Two were from the Farming Department, the first to run the biannual cleaning of their condensation rooms during the harvest season on Greeneries 4, 6, 11, and 13. I checked the records, saw that it was right on time, and made a mental note to look into my own department’s requests later, to make sure I knew which ones I needed to submit requests for, and when. The second one was also routine, announcing the repair and maintenance on the harvesting machines and loading systems.
The last one was from Water Treatment, regarding the draining and cleaning of several of the treatment pools in the water purification section. It was also pretty standard, so I moved along, planning to let it pass without challenge.
The only other item beyond all those was an action request from Farming to the council, asking if an investigation was necessary to account for missing animals. Apparently a cow, two goats, a pig, and seven chickens were unaccounted for inside the Menagerie, the greenery where we raised our animals. I narrowed my eyes, considering the request. This seemed suspicious, though it was possible that one of the Hands on duty had simply been negligent, and that the animals had gotten out of their pens and then out of the greenery. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened… but still.
I minimized it as the chandelier hanging from the domed ceiling high above flickered in warning. Checking my watch, I realized time had slid by much faster than I anticipated, and looked up, expecting to see Strum or Lacey in position.
But their desks were empty, devoid of any signs of life—as was the rest of the Council Room. Confusion rippled through me, and I glanced down at my wrist, confirming the time. Then I looked over at my schedule to see that yes, the meeting was indeed at eight o’clock, like my indicator said. Where was everyone?
There was a sharp click and a hum from above, and I stood up to see beams of light starting to stream from the dome above, thousands of them, streaking from what appeared to be holes in the ceiling. I recognized the effect immediately, and was relatively unsurprised when they drew together and combined to give shape and form to Scipio through holographic technology.
It was breathtaking to watch as they lined his strong jaw, luminous blue eyes, and inky black hair. Seconds later he was there, the beams of light suddenly gone, while he remained.
“Greetings, Champion Castell,” he said formally, inclining his head.
“Hey, Scipio,” I said, not bothering with the formalities. “How are you doing?”
It was a loaded question—and one I wasn’t even sure why I asked—but there it was, out there. I watched him closely, trying to gauge his reaction. His face didn’t change, but I got the distinct impression from his eyes that he was surprised by my interest.
“I am well,” he replied, managing a polite smile. “Are you ready to begin?”
I blinked and looked around. “Aren’t we going to wait for the other council members?”
“They are logged in remotely,” he replied. He nodded toward my terminal, and a moment later a chat log appeared, already filled with messages from the heads of the other departments. The messages were routine, showing what time they logged in, that they were ready for the minutes to begin, and my brief conversation with Scipio, but seeing them there—realizing that I was going to be alone in the Council Room—shocked me, and I could only stare.
“Allow me to begin.” As Scipio spoke, the words were generated in the log, and I realized that he was recording everything in text form. “There are seven issues before the council today. We will start with the repair orders, then move to jurisdictional disputes, then investigation requests, and finally attend to pending protocol changes. Are all parties agreed?”
The screen lit up green with yeses, and Scipio looked at me. “You may agree verbally or on record, or lodge a complaint in the same manner.”
I stared at him, still taken aback by the fact that no one was in the room. He raised an expectant eyebrow, and I realized that everyone was waiting for me to answer. I couldn’t find a reason to launch a complaint—not that I would, over the order of issues—and said, “Yes, the agenda is fine.”
“Then I will proceed,” Scipio said with a nod. “The first item on the agenda is the maintenance request from the Farming Department, to clean the condensation rooms and service harvesting machines. No services to other citizens will be hampered, and this is a biannual event. Does the council agree to the dates submitted by the Farming Department?”
A slurry of yeses hit the screen faster than I could blink, and once again, I found Scipio looking at me expectantly.
“Yes,” I said, still a bit overwhelmed by how quickly everything was moving, given the fact that there was literally no one here.
“The next issue is Water Treatment’s request to drain and clean the water purification ponds. No services will be hampered, save that water purification on that day will be cut approximately in half, but all reservoir tanks are full. This is an annual event. Does the council agree to the dates submitted by Water Treatment?”
Again, a bunch of yeses, and this time I just tapped the Yes button on the screen, not bothering to articulate it. This was nothing like I had imagined, and I felt isolated and insignificant.
“Next, we move on to Water Treatment’s claim on cleaning and servicing the cooling pipes around the air processing units in Cogstown. This is a jurisdictional issue that was resolved in Year 59 of the Tower, resulting in jurisdiction being given to the Divers. Engineer Lacey Green is asking that the issue be reopened. Both department heads will be allowed to make statements for their case.”
On the screen, Praetor Strum sent the first message. Lord Scipio, Engineer Green and I have come to an agreement, but it involves council approval on not only this issue, but on the other jurisdictional request pending in today’s docket as well.
“Go on,” Scipio both said and wrote, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at them both. This was so stupid. Whatever they were trying to accomplish was rather irrelevant, given that they were allies. If Lacey wanted her Cogs to fix something, she and Strum could just work it out on their own. They were clearly manufacturing i
ssues between the two departments to keep up the appearance of being at odds.
The other jurisdictional dispute is about the Cogs’ claim to the repairs on our pumps for Greenery 2—a decision that was also reached around the same time as the last one. Because of the inter-departmental training programs, we have cross-trained enough of our people so that there is no need for either department to further service the other’s machines. Engineer Green’s people can clean the cooling pipes, and we will maintain the pumps.
There was a pause, and I looked over at Scipio to see a pensive look on his face. “I will need time to ponder the matter,” he said finally. “It is rare for jurisdictions to change, and I will need to do some research into the issue to ensure that doing so will not cause undue harm to the Tower. I move to table these two discussions until next week’s meeting. All those in agreement?”
Again, a flurry of affirmatives, to which I added my own. I didn’t really understand why Scipio needed to do research—the solution seemed reasonable enough to me—but I held off on asking about it, unsure what the other councilors would think, and waited.
“Next, we have a request from Head Farmer Plancett regarding a matter of disappearing animals. I understand you are requesting an investigation into a potential poaching ring?”
Yes, Plancett replied on the screen. But I wanted to consult with you first, to hear your recommendation.
“Animals going missing in the Tower is not an uncommon phenomenon,” Scipio said. “As long as it remains under ten percent during the period of a month, it is well within the margins of error. It is more likely that the animals escaped and we will find them stuck in the vicinity of Greenery 1. If the council wishes to overrule my recommendation and launch an investigation anyway, please hit No. Otherwise, please select Yes.”
This one gave me pause. Ten percent a month was the indicator for criminal poaching? That seemed a bit high, but without knowing the number of animals we actually had, it was difficult to tell. Not to mention, a cow and a pig were pretty large animals. They’d be impossible to miss, even down at the bottom of the Tower.
The Girl Who Dared to Lead Page 11
