Chapter 4 - Looking Forward To It
I scroll through my father’s digitized reference books on my tablet one by one, flipping page after page of detailed symbiont diagrams carefully drawn by artists before me. Their line work is meticulous, attention to detail that I could only dream of in my own work, exact counts of scales and feathers duplicated on the page from descriptions given to them by their hosts, gifts for the rest of us who cannot see. I can almost feel their textures through the screen.
It’s stunning to me what they could create without seeing it for themselves. I touch the signature of one artist, a few lines in the black simulated ink beneath the gorgeous spread wings of an Aquila.
With a sigh, I scroll through the pages to the Okapia reference I’m seeking and compare the image to my own sketch. This is an older reference: they have the horns completely wrong.
“Gilroy, do we have a copy of Johansen?”
Gilroy leans round his work station, glasses perched on his nose.
“I thought so? Why?”
I glance over at the datasheet I’m referencing from the Fitzgerald interview. “Sen-Dir Fitzgerald described a type H7 horn on his Okapia, this is closer to a H9…”
Gilroy slowly stands, leaning over his desk to look at my scattered drawings and the tablet I’m referencing. “Carmen’s collected works are considered the standard for ungulates-” he begins.
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’ve got Carmen. But the horns don’t match." I tap the data sheet on my tablet to make my point.
“You sure he said it was a H7?” he asks, peering at the screen.
I bite my lip. “That’s what the Sen-Dir said. Johansen has that rare species collection, can we just check? I’ll make two versions with each reference. It’s your paper, you can decide which one you want to use after?”
Gilroy hums, scratching at the point his reading glasses rest on his nose. “No harm in it, I guess. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
He grabs his ID card hanging from the lamp at his workstation and disappears to get an actual book from the back catalogue, where my security clearances won’t let me, leaving me alone in the office. I bend back to my work, coloring in the banded markings on the Okapia’s rump that I was working on before getting distracted.
“Ms. Conrada Dorrien?”
I start, dropping my pencil at the unfamiliar voice.
“Here,” I glance at the stranger, taking in their suit and squinting at the ID card clipped to their breast pocket. “I’m Conrada, Supervisor… Sterling?”
“Just Sterling is fine. I’m from Human Resources. I was wondering if you were free to chat for a moment?”
She leans in the lab’s doorway, not quite entering the room, deceptively casual except for the tight grip on the tablet held to her chest.
My breath catches. “Uh, here? Super Sterling?”
“Just Sterling. And I have a conference room set aside upstairs, if you don’t mind?”
I glance around the empty office. Fuck. “I should let Dr. Dorrien know where I’m going…” I rise slowly, packing my pencils into the metal case.
“Oh, we won’t be a moment. I’ll escort you back when we are done so I can do any explaining for you.”
“I was going to my friend’s manifestation later, I wasn’t expecting…”
“I won’t keep you that long. You won’t miss a thing. Just a chat.”
Fuck. I close my folio and wipe my hands against the fabric of my scrubs, then follow her to the elevators out of the basement as bid. Sterling swipes her ID card instead of punching in a floor to the elevator and catches my glance in her direction.
“The entire floor for Human and Symbiont Resources is secure access. We have everyone’s employee files, you know,” she laughs.
I give her a weak grin. “Yeah, makes sense.”
We barely pause as the elevator opens to a view over Murasaki district, mostly obscured by the buildings on either side. Sunlight glares off steel, casting the world in white and gray with the occasional glimpse into offices and apartments privileged enough for windows. The sky beyond is stained yellow with low-hanging smog, billowing up from the industrial districts of other companies. I can see down to the elevated skyways between the buildings, and the stacked common areas and mess halls between business and residential areas. Wherever the ground is, including the plot my family still owns, it’s lost between the walkways and buildings.
I’m led to a nearby conference room where a slim, older man in a black security uniform is already waiting. I sit as bid at a table designed for eight, and nervously glance between them as Super Sterling sits across from me, joining the older man.
“I promise you are not in trouble,” Sterling begins. “This is Vice President Masahiro Watanabe, from Security.”
He stands. “Thank you for coming up, Ms. Dorrien. I understand you’ll be manifesting soon?” His voice is smooth and clipped. On his shoulder, I can see the long-legged body of his Phasma, a species of stick insect, taking painfully slow steps. Invertebrate symbionts are definitely a gap in my knowledge. I might even have the genus wrong. It would make sense for someone from high levels of security to have one though, most arthropods are technologically inclined. I blink it out of sight so I won’t be tempted to let my eyes drift.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
My mouth is so dry I lick my lips again before speaking, hoping my distraction just appears as nerves. “Uh, yeah. I’ll be on the schedule for next week, maybe the one after… Will this take long? I’ve got so much work to finish.”
Watanabe seems unconcerned. “Super Sterling is here to help me, make sure we follow all the proper protocols. We won’t be long at all. Did she say why we asked you to come speak with us?”
I shake my head. I tuck my hands under the conference table out of sight, self-conscious of the ink stains on my fingers.
Sterling takes over. “Can you repeat your employee identification number for us?”
“SB0088907B,” I reply obediently.
“SB?” repeats Watanabe casually. “You’re a serf from the Systems Biotechnica buyout?”
“Uh, yes, sire. It should say that in my file.”
He abruptly changes topic. “Can you take a look at this security footage for me and tell me what you see?”
Sterling slides her tablet across the table as he makes his request. I swallow, then my brow furrows when I recognize the lobby from the labs below us in the black and white security footage. The video is paused, and I glance at them before tapping the play button with one finger. It’s less than two minutes total. I keep my mouth tightly shut as I watch myself enter, swiping my way through the turnstile as I joke with Chuck, then the footage resets.
“I’m not sure what you expect me to see? I dropped by the lab last night to leave some equipment. I had approval from Dr. Dorrien-”
“You’re not in trouble this time,” reassures Watanabe, taking a seat again. “Mr. Green didn’t sign you in.”
I glance at the security footage again, my voice catching. “Chuck didn’t…” That can’t be it. This has to be a trap.
“Mr. Green, yes. He didn’t sign you in.”
I look between them. “I’m sorry. I know we’re meant to. I was just in and out dropping something off.”
“It’s technically against policy. But we’re all human,” says Sterling with a laugh. “We just want to know if this is a common occurrence?”
I swallow. “Is Ch- Mr. Green in trouble?”
“We’re not accusing Mr. Green of anything at this point in our investigation.” Watanabe leans on the conference table, raising his eyebrow conspiratorially as if letting me in on a secret. “We’ve had some competitors beating us to market recently. The board has personally asked me to review our protocols in the labs with relevant research. It could just be a coincidence. There’s plenty of other companies out there rushing to beat our work every day. It’s hurt us all, the valuable time you and your lab does is lost before it can generate the revenue needed to keep us all afloat. Unity, remember. You can see why we might be concerned?”
“You think there’s been leaks?” I test hesitantly.
“No, nothing so serious. But we’re investigating just to be sure. Rattling the bars so to speak.” He raises an eyebrow at me meaningfully.
“My Da- Dr. Dorrien’s lab group does taxonomy research, VP Watanabe. Mostly, our work isn’t directly commercialized. Dr. Dorrien could explain it better…”
Watanabe waves his hand casually to silence me. “Relax, Ms. Dorrien. We’re not accusing you or your father’s lab of anything today. I just want to know if you’re aware of other times this, or anything like this, has happened? In case we come across anything else in the security footage while we give things a once-over. It’s better to be honest now, easier than explaining yourself later.” He finishes with a smile.
I’m not so stupid I’d make a mess in my own backyard, anymore. They have nothing on me, surely. I quickly reply before I get lost in my racing thoughts. “I can’t remember. Chuck’s a good guy. I don’t think he’d do something like that on purpose.”
Watanabe smiles. “I’m sure. Don’t let it happen again, all right? Security, just like safety, is everyone’s responsibility. If you’re not signed in correctly, you should feel free to remind reception staff yourself.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that, VP. Am I okay to leave?”
“Yes, Supervisor Sterling here can lead you back down and let anyone know your absence was authorized.”
I get to my feet, tucking my twitching fingers into the pocket of my scrubs. “Thank you, VP, sire.”
“My pleasure, Conrada. Good luck with your manifestation. We’ve been looking forward to it.”
I pause in shock, quickly masking my dread with a blank expression. Watanabe remains seated at the conference table, turning his head down to read something on his work tablet as he dismisses me.
Sterling shuts the door behind me and beckons back to the elevators. “See, nothing so bad. I’ll see you back down then!” she says cheerily.
At the office, I pause, tenting my fingers over the reference book Gilroy has dropped at my desk and reflecting on the conversation.
As I turn it over in my head, I’m certain the interaction was what it seemed on the surface. No traps and just the potential leaks they suggested. There’s just no way I can see a VP getting involved with some casual vandalism if they had something on me. I’m careful now. I usually make sure that it is something that will break long after I’ve been and gone, and I don’t work in my backyard or create a pattern.
As I sit again, I open the cover of Johansen’s ‘Companion Guide to Rare and Unusual Vertebrates’ and turn through the yellowed pages. Half the volume has no drawings, symbionts so rare they’ve never been formally classified and described, just names of genera or rumors of powers.
“Do you still go to the seminars other labs run?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual as I pick up my pencil again.
Gilroy leans around his workstation again, looking down his glasses at me. “Yeah? Does Johansen have what you were looking for?”
“Anyone ever talk about what competitors are doing?” I ask, using the motion of turning another page to hide any nerves.
“Doesn’t really matter to the taxonomists. The applied teams are usually more worried about being scooped, or corporate espionage,” he replies mildly, typing as he talks.
I pause on another nearly empty page, the genus Gryphem listed across the top along with a sparse description of abilities associated with the species. “Companies stealing from each other is common?”
“Enough that they worry about it.”
My workstation lights up, and I glance up at the message.
I type a quick reply.
On my way out of the building, Chuck is missing from the security desk. There’s always a chance his schedule changed, but I’m pretty good at remembering details like that.
Aquila is Latin for eagle. It is also the name of the genus that contains... eagles! (well, some of them... Biology is complicated friends).