it down purposefully, he underlines the short remark before reading it out loud – But she set off the fire alarm.
It couldn’t have been anyone else.
There’s a circle that should be filled. Francis finds he’s just sat looking at it, caught in the pull of its centre. It’s as though he’s been called on stage by someone in full magician garb, and everyone is waiting for him to pick a card, but he’s stuck, a dumbstruck fool staring into the spotlight.
CHAPTER 9
Drumming the elevator button and watching the numbers pause on every floor, Ava grows frustrated and makes a dash for the winding stairs instead. Spiralling downward, when she’s met by the guard’s smile at the front desk, her own freezes tersely, each corner stuck to a cheek by pins as the thought flares – Maybe he was going up in the elevator as I was running down. One heel follows the next as she spurs herself forward. If he is up there, his arrival in the newsroom would be, for all its effect, a bomb blast. The concern turns out to be unfounded. As she pushes through the door to let the light of day blind her, she squints to see the doctor standing in the smoking area. Propped against the rail, Alistair has one leg hitched over the other and a bunch of roses held haphazardly in the hand hanging at his side.
‘What are you doing here?’ Ava shoves him away from the car park. ‘Are you trying to get me fired?!’
‘I was bored,’ he says, then quickly adjusts to a syrupy inflection. ‘I brought flowers. You work hard, I thought you’d like a nice surprise.’
Ava snatches the flowers from him. A stream of petals spill into the air as she dumps them into a dustbin they fly past.
‘Alright, so you don’t like roses,’ he says. ‘Tulip’s next time? They’re a bit cheap aren’t they?’
‘There won’t be a next time,’ she snaps and glances over her shoulder to the building that looms behind them. ‘My editor has been pushing for a story on you and so has everyone under her. That’s not even taking the social agent into account. That’s the social agent who knows your face, is searching for UPD candidates and–’
‘And what?’
‘And seeing you here, giving me flowers. It might give him the wrong impression. Do you think that you can show up and they won’t notice? That they won’t connect it to me? I don’t want them thinking I’m burying your story to benefit my own personal life. That we’re cohorts in some dramatic conspiracy.’
‘What do you care?’ he asks.
‘What?!’
‘I said what do you care, you’re not untouched, right?’
‘You know I’m not.’ Ava stops in her tracks and wraps her coat tightly around herself.
‘So relax,’ he pulls her close.
‘I don’t need the hassle, Alistair. Group self report sessions? Personality reviews? I’m here to put other people under inspection, not submit myself to it. That damn electric scanning machine he’s lining us up to suffer. What’s it even for?’
The building’s panel of glass is grey. Impenetrable from her angle, the Dublin coloured sky is spread across its surface. Inside is the social agent, armed with a set of questions designed to tie a noose around her neck. Outside, here in the windy parking lot with Alistair, she can breathe again.
‘Let’s go somewhere,’ he chooses the boyish smile for his face, knowing she’s back on side. ‘I’m horribly bored. They won’t let me do anything practical in the labs. I’m just sat around an office all day choosing who I want to call up. You should be happy it’s you.’
‘I’m honoured, really. Top on the list of bimbos you count as entertainment.’
Ignoring the sarcasm, he takes her comment as agreement, ‘Alright then, let’s go.’
‘I have work to do,’ Ava protests.
Exasperated by her dragging feet, he insists, ‘You can do it from anywhere. Why do you people even have an office?’
Stumped by the question, Ava is forced to accept his argument and with a link of
It couldn’t have been anyone else.
There’s a circle that should be filled. Francis finds he’s just sat looking at it, caught in the pull of its centre. It’s as though he’s been called on stage by someone in full magician garb, and everyone is waiting for him to pick a card, but he’s stuck, a dumbstruck fool staring into the spotlight.
CHAPTER 9
Drumming the elevator button and watching the numbers pause on every floor, Ava grows frustrated and makes a dash for the winding stairs instead. Spiralling downward, when she’s met by the guard’s smile at the front desk, her own freezes tersely, each corner stuck to a cheek by pins as the thought flares – Maybe he was going up in the elevator as I was running down. One heel follows the next as she spurs herself forward. If he is up there, his arrival in the newsroom would be, for all its effect, a bomb blast. The concern turns out to be unfounded. As she pushes through the door to let the light of day blind her, she squints to see the doctor standing in the smoking area. Propped against the rail, Alistair has one leg hitched over the other and a bunch of roses held haphazardly in the hand hanging at his side.
‘What are you doing here?’ Ava shoves him away from the car park. ‘Are you trying to get me fired?!’
‘I was bored,’ he says, then quickly adjusts to a syrupy inflection. ‘I brought flowers. You work hard, I thought you’d like a nice surprise.’
Ava snatches the flowers from him. A stream of petals spill into the air as she dumps them into a dustbin they fly past.
‘Alright, so you don’t like roses,’ he says. ‘Tulip’s next time? They’re a bit cheap aren’t they?’
‘There won’t be a next time,’ she snaps and glances over her shoulder to the building that looms behind them. ‘My editor has been pushing for a story on you and so has everyone under her. That’s not even taking the social agent into account. That’s the social agent who knows your face, is searching for UPD candidates and–’
‘And what?’
‘And seeing you here, giving me flowers. It might give him the wrong impression. Do you think that you can show up and they won’t notice? That they won’t connect it to me? I don’t want them thinking I’m burying your story to benefit my own personal life. That we’re cohorts in some dramatic conspiracy.’
‘What do you care?’ he asks.
‘What?!’
‘I said what do you care, you’re not untouched, right?’
‘You know I’m not.’ Ava stops in her tracks and wraps her coat tightly around herself.
‘So relax,’ he pulls her close.
‘I don’t need the hassle, Alistair. Group self report sessions? Personality reviews? I’m here to put other people under inspection, not submit myself to it. That damn electric scanning machine he’s lining us up to suffer. What’s it even for?’
The building’s panel of glass is grey. Impenetrable from her angle, the Dublin coloured sky is spread across its surface. Inside is the social agent, armed with a set of questions designed to tie a noose around her neck. Outside, here in the windy parking lot with Alistair, she can breathe again.
‘Let’s go somewhere,’ he chooses the boyish smile for his face, knowing she’s back on side. ‘I’m horribly bored. They won’t let me do anything practical in the labs. I’m just sat around an office all day choosing who I want to call up. You should be happy it’s you.’
‘I’m honoured, really. Top on the list of bimbos you count as entertainment.’
Ignoring the sarcasm, he takes her comment as agreement, ‘Alright then, let’s go.’
‘I have work to do,’ Ava protests.
Exasperated by her dragging feet, he insists, ‘You can do it from anywhere. Why do you people even have an office?’
Stumped by the question, Ava is forced to accept his argument and with a link of
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