Remember (35 page)

I have a moment of clarity.
“I wanted to check the guards were unconscious. This was my first time using a NLIT. Incorrect placement can cause duration problems.”

Report nods a little. “That sounds good. What happened when Mr. Stephens was subjected to the NLIT?”

Jenna says, “I think I’m the best person to answer this. Malicious tech was covering Mr. Stephens’ face. When JB came into contract with said tech, JB’s control of the suit was neutralized, ma’am.”

Report waits for an answer from me. She calmly looks over with those drug high eyes. It's something else, not drugs.

“Yes, I couldn’t control the suit shortly after NLITing Stephens. The suit made me check on him.”

Report asks, “Can anyone explain the incident with damaging the wall?” The screens replay it on loop.

Jenna answers again,” The suit was out of control. Once it punched the wall, the suit disconnected JB as a safety measure. An electrical conduit came into contact with the suit, ma’am.”

I answer before Report has to wait.
“Yes, the suit searched the walls while pacing the room. It was searching for something. It found an electrical conduit.”

“Where were you, Agent 2645, during these events?” Report looks to Morris.

“I was packing up the transfer tech. ma’am.” Morris glances over me.

“How did the suit continue functioning?” Report asks. Those haunting eyes turn back to me.

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t move without help from Jenna, sorry Agent 7429.”
Don't act nervous. She can't vaporize me.

“Yes, I used the external suit controls to complete the mission, ma’am,” Jenna answers also.

Report asks, “How was the suit repaired once you boarded the IMMMR?”
If she's irked by Jenna's interruptions, Report doesn't show it.

Jenna says, “On the ionized molecule magnetic manipulator raft, I just did a restart of the assault suit. It takes 5 minutes to do it, ma’am.”

“Did this fix the disconnection issue?” Report asks Jenna.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jenna says.

Report asks, “What do you have to say on the matter, JB?”

I want to look away, but I can't.
“I don’t know how the problem was fixed. When I entered the IMMMR, I couldn’t move anything. By the time we landed I had control back.”

Someone comes in to deliver a message to Report. He has the same clothes as her. He whispers something in her ear and stays near the table.

Report says, “The questions are done, you will now be taken to the change room. Please follow my colleague.” We all go with him out the door at our backs. He puts on shades in the normal lit area, this gradually curving hallway. We go down it, stop at a room called ‘Change’, and all go in. The person from M station leaves us there.

Five shelves hang along the left wall — three marked with scrolling name tags: JB, 7429, and 2645 with clothes, shoes, socks, and towels stocked. Five enclosed showers cover the opposite wall. We grab everything besides the shoes and socks. Morris boards a shower as far away from us as possible. Jenna and I take neighboring showers. I deactivate my assault suit which takes some time. A few deep breathes relieve some feelings of guilt more trivial then what I expected.

Jenna says, “How did you like your first co-op mission?”

The suit loosens its grip over me. “I was fun. Everything was until the end.” I sling my new clothes over the top of the door just like Jenna.

“What happened wasn’t unheard of. Once, an entire mission was compromised with that trick. Since then, one unequipped team member always has the shutdown codes for the team.” Jenna drops her clothes on the dry floor below, peeling off layers.

I look away from the silhouette through the barely frosted glass. “You knew this could happen?”

“I just told you that.”

I unzip the suit, liberate my arms, snake out my feet, and slip out of this skin tight banana skin. “Where did you learn the external suit commands?”

“It isn’t so much knowledge as practice. The suit has several places that provide external controls. You can use the hands, arms, chest, back and legs. If the suit disconnects from the primary operator, these controls become active.” Jenna dispenses with her old clothes.

I zip up the suit and hang it up near the new set. “I’m glad you got the suit working, again. Relying on you for everything isn’t good enough.”

I turn the shower knob until the knob temperature feels good. The water will somehow end up the same.

“You should be happy I did such a good job at it.”

“Thanks for the help. We should do a mission together, again.” I extend a handshake over the top of the shower dividers. She shakes my hand. I don’t know if she says anything after that. She starts the water. I start mine with a push of the knob. The sound of water bouncing off our bodies or directly to the floor masks every other sound.

(—)

I change into the t-shirt and matching pants. We leave the showers and put on our shoes. Morris already left the room. We exit for the hallway and keep moving down, reaching three rooms with our three codenames. We say good night and go inside.

The small room with a bed and table features a full wall screen across from the door. It shows the view out the front of the cave. I lie down and try to fall asleep, but I can’t for some reason. Just willing myself to sleep doesn’t work. I decide exercise could remove the decision from my hands. I contort into a little of everything Claire tries teaching me during some yoga lessons in the other half of her apartment. (A hardwood floored space with clear walls on four sides, a water channel all around, various cushions sunken into the floor, and an extremely variable temperature control.) She could be a master yogi; she's been doing it for that long.

I feel more awake than anything, so I just lie in bed waiting for sleep. As if staring at the ceiling is going to help. Report knocks and enters the room with shades on. I met her halfway to the bed.

Report motions over to the table for us to sit. “I just need to ask some follow up questions, okay?”

I sit down on one side. “Sure, anything you need.”

She slides out of her grey jacket and drapes it over the chair back before sitting. “You entered the building as a guest presenter, correct?”

“No.”

Report meticulously loosens her tie with both hands. “As a maintenance worker you had access to the fourth floor, room 24, correct?” She undoes her sleeves completely absorbed.

Two in a row.
“No, it was room 14.”

She talks without looking at me but at her hands folding up each sleeve, cuff width by cuff width, until it uncovers her hairless arms up to her elbows. “In room 14, Agent 7429 setup the V-tech. Agent 2645 and Agent JB setup the cover job. Is all this correct?”

The slow reiteration of each alias and her distractions bore me.
“Yes.”

“All three of you then go to the twelfth floor. There you find seven guards. Are these statements of the truth?” Report removes her shades and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“No, the first one is true.”

She looks at me with a human face for the first time (without massive pupils). “Were all eight guards subdued with only NLIT’s?”

What was that whole bit of show acting about just here and before (dilated eyes and shades)?
“No, one guard escaped the tech. Both weapons were used on him.”

“Is it true that Agent 6245 and you were the ones who accessed the data line?” Report digs something out of her jacket pocket, a handkerchief.

“Yes.”

With one shake, the handkerchief unfurls and moistens. “Did you check everyone to ensure proper function of the NLIT based on concern for the mission?”

“Yes.”

She starts wiping her face without breathing eye contact with at least one eye. “Did the NLIT function properly with the people in the entrance hallway?”

“Yes.”

She wipes around her neck and her eyes roll upward and stay there. She continues the questions without any change in her voice. “Did malicious tech affect you upon touching Mr. Stephens?”

Just ask the questions. I don't need to see this other stuff.
“Yes.”

“Did this tech cause you to lose control of the assault suit?” Her eyes face forward and she starts on her arms.

“Yes.”

Report continues wiping the webs between the fingers, the nail beds, the creases between the joints, the nails, and cuticles. Her eyes crinkle with concentration. “Did the suit punch the wall when acting beyond your control?”

“Yes.”

“Did your assault suit disconnect after coming into contact with the electrical conduit?” Report crumples up the kerchief and tosses it into the trashcan over her shoulder.

Just watching her do this makes me feel covered with grit and grime, even though I just showered.
“Yes.”

She slides the table towards me in an act of stretching her fingers back almost into hyperextension. “Did Agent 7429 use the external suit controls to bring you to the completion of your mission?”

“Yes.”

Report hefts one leg onto the edge of the table from the knee down. “Did the death of Mr. Stephens cause you to feel lost or upset?” She removes a hideously high heeled business shoe and stands it on the table.

“No.”

She messages her foot, heavily leaning into it with white fingers and red messaged area. “Did you willfully pace around the room and damage the wall?”

“No.”

She lowers the denuded foot and repeats with the other ones. “Was Agent 7429 the only person that could get through to you, in this state?”

I stick with the story.
“No, I was never in that state.”
I should have seen it before! She's handling me. She's a master at high level interrogation. The interrogator puts on a show of distraction — what I just witnessed now or the trippy dilated pupils earlier (maybe) — that weakens the ability to lie such that a seasoned interrogator can spot lies and truth.

Report seats her bare feet on the chair and wraps her arm around her knees. “Did Agent 7429 disable your suit?”

Easy truth.
“No.”

“Did Agent 7429 guide you through the rest of your mission?”

“No answer, these questions are more than just clarification. Aren’t they?”

Report drops her feet, finger loops her gaudy heels, and folds her jacket over one arm. She leans backward on the door. “Sorry for the inconvenience of oversight. I have food for you outside. I’ll get it now.”

She leaves for a sec, returns barefoot, jacketless, and with a tray that's put on the table. I eat it without looking. The questions have me thinking. Did I lie? Does she know, if I did? If I believe it, can it be a lie? What really happened today? After I NLITed Mr. Stephens, I didn’t exactly feel the same. The message that the target died just appeared. Who sent that message? Two options. Does that matter? It changes nothing that happened. I felt confused above all. I did the pacing and punching. It made me mad. I don’t know what to believe. Malicious tech might take some time to start working. After Jenna grabbed me, I couldn’t move by myself. Or was it after punching the wall? I can’t remember. Did Jenna use the suit controls? Was she able to get through to me? I have told the Division the tech hack story. Is that true? What really happened?

Tues 8/22/17 3:51 a.m.

E
verything ends up reflected on the waxed hood lying outside the tinted windshield. The deep green of the thing itself colors everything that it shows me, any small groove showing black in the pure white vista and the reflections of the trees slipping across, bending and distorting to every curve and contour. The white snow hangs on the drooping branches of evergreens immobile in the gently blowing winds. The freshly fallen snow stretches out ahead waiting for the oncoming wheels of car. The edge of the road just melts into the landscape under the white covering of snows past.

The two of us, Claire and I, reside within the confines, our means of conveyance, safely away from the cold outside. The warmth of the air resonates with the materials in easy grasp of both of us. The dark, rich woods accompanied by a trim of honed steel does nothing more than feed our senses. My hands firmly in hold of the soft leather intricately woven into the round steering wheel. The car eases through every twist, not once losing traction, until reaching our destination, my mother’s house.

We stop in the circular drive amidst a collection of four other's such vehicles set upon this house for the same reason. I withdraw the keys and our gift from within the confines of this now sleeping car. Entering into the cutting chill from beyond these doors, my wool jacket provides a suitable battlement against the undeniably cold winds. The onslaught targets any points of weakness, hitting my face and hands with the biting cold that dominates the winter season. I move around the car admiring its quality and the fact that my black and burgundy choices are just skin deep as the car’s looks. The belt line slopes up adding an aggressive look that means nothing more than that.

I go to Claire’s door, just a few steps from the house, and hold it open for her. Claire wears a long coat with a white scarf that keeps the warmth in. The lightest of touches shut the car doors. We proceed hand in hand up to the grand double door of beech framed by plaster columns. Mother greets us with Father not far behind. I remember her wearing the same thing last Christmas, a maroon dress with a matching scarf. Dad is in a forest green sweater with brown slacks. They seem happy to see us, if not a little relieved.

Claire attended many other occasions here in the familial home hence the memories of other, more innocent times. I rid myself of the jacket, now turned burden by the sudden warmth of inside. Claire takes off her scarf and coat revealing the comfortable but beautiful dress for this evening meal, a close resemblance to something found outside, a lily. It features two shades of the color orange, one dark and one bright, each of the two constructed into elongated/stretched out petals, making up the entire thing. The embroidered center crease from a reflective, almost metallic, light orange. The petals wrap around her body from her knees up in such a way that it just works. The upper extreme of two petals transform into the straps that lunge over her shoulders. She hides her hands inside the pockets at either side. I proffer up my hand that she then accepts. We enter into the dining room stuffed with guests and a bloated table of ornaments. I recognize everyone there to some degree, from people I know well to others I just know. Everyone is dressed for it, but my wonderings continue as to how they relate to my parents.