BEYOND THE LOOKING-GLASS: Book One in the BEYOND Series by Gordon Rothwell Page B

want.”
    Before Kellen could answer, a hall monitor floated over to them. In its flat and hollow mechanical voice it said: “No fraternizing. No personal talking permitted.” The robot stared at the blonde’s badge with its inset camera eyes. “You work in the red sector, Badge One-Oh-Seven. This is the yellow sector. Move along or I will have to report you to your supervisor.”
    The blonde made a sour face and put her slender hands on her hips in defiance. The robot zapped her with a small stick resembling an old fashioned cattle prod. The blonde jumped back holding her arm. “Hey,” she shouted, “that hurt, Tin Man.”
    “Move along now. Or there will be consequences.”
    The blonde gave Kellen a small wave of her hand and disappeared behind a forest of cubicle partitions. So long , he thought. Maybe at another time, in another life . But now I’ve got a mountain of subversive stuff to sort for burning.
    A few minutes later, he settled down at his assigned desk and placed his REM-VISOR on his head. He remembered a line from one of those old books he destroyed in the past. How did it go? Big Brother is Watching You! That was it.
    He shuffled through an enormous pile of paperwork accumulated in front of his computer monitor.
    A small warehouse bot whirred down the aisle outside his cubicle. It stopped and deposited a cardboard box and zipped off.
    Janice Kull, the sallow-faced brunette in the next cubicle, looked over her partition. She eyed the box on the floor.
    “That’s another load of disgusting outlawed filth. I hear the IPA cops found it under some old couple’s attic floorboards. They’ll never live to serve out their sentences. Poor deluded fools.”
    Janice disappeared from view as Kellen opened the box. Inside were a pile of old movie DVD’s and tapes, some yellowed copies of long-forgotten magazines, and a few dust-covered books. He looked at the book titles. Grapes of Wrath, A Tale of Two Cities, Little Women, Lost Horizon, and The Razor’s Edge. All subversive material destined for a fiery death in the annex incinerator.
    As he leafed through the pages of one of the books, his supervisor poked his head into the cubicle. He frowned when he saw what Kellen was doing.
    “Stop reading that porno-rot, Marlowe. Your job is to catalog the stuff and mark it for destruction. Not fill your head with a lot of poisonous claptrap. Get with the program.” The supervisor was about to leave when he stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot. You gotta call. From your wife. Hell, I didn’t even know you was married. She says it’s an emergency. I’ll have Central pass it through. But don’t gab too long. You know how management feels about personal calls on company time.”
    When the phone rang, he picked it up quickly.
    “Aleeta! What’s going on? You know I’m not supposed to get personal calls here.” He pressed the receiver more tightly to his ear. “What? Slow down, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” He sucked in a deep breath as his hand gripped the phone. “Damn. Hang on. I’ll be right over.”
    He tore off his REM-VISOR and ran down the aisle toward the annex front door. Once outside, he dashed by the guards at the gate before they could react. They yelled and chased after him. But he quickly hailed an aero-cab. The acie shuddered for a moment, rose into the air, and was gone before anyone from the annex could catch up.
     
    ~*~

TWO
     
    Director Anton Falconer strode past a large bank of video monitors in Internal Protection Agency’s headquarters. His black leather boots sounded like muffled gunshots as he paced back and forth. The Government agent felt a surge of pride as he gazed about the immense control room with its massive battery of huge monitors.
    This is where it all happens twenty-four hours every day , he thought. Our diligence and technological skills make it possible for us to carry out our sacred duty to keep the public safe from harm.
    “Pardon me, Director,” a