to keep his composure in front of the
Chief Auditor held him together.
“Even with harvesting
from prisoners, political or otherwise, organs were still at a premium, and
some were harder to find than others. A few months ago, that all changed. The
market was flooded periodically, mass harvests that overwhelmed the surgical
centers’ ability to process them, to find patients. Half of ’em probably rotted
on ice. But the activists couldn’t figure out the source. Falun Gong was pretty
much wiped out in China years ago, and there hadn’t been any mass arrests or
dissident suppression to explain the sudden uptick. They figured the government
was up to its usual shenanigans, but Analytics thought otherwise.”
There was a girl with
defiant eyes, no more than sixteen, holding tightly to what was obviously her
younger brother, maybe old enough for kindergarten – and even more obviously
dead. Alex tried to avert his eyes, but wherever he looked, it was just as bad.
Eventually, he settled for focusing on Miss Gallow’s back, the monochrome
tattoo of the Tree of Life rippling as the muscles in her back moved.
“There is a similar
industry in the Caucasus – Chechnya, parts of occupied Georgia, and the like.
We sent Mitzi – Miss Aoki – to investigate. What she turned up, plus another
field investigation in Malaysia and Indonesia, was enough for Analytics to
corroborate our suspicions.”
They made it to the
stairs, which led to the ground floor of the Audits building, out of the
atrocities in the garage. Alex was filled with gratitude the moment his foot
touched the first step.
“It was the Society, the
Asian franchise of the global vampire club. We still aren’t sure how they were
identifying the children, but they were conducting a widespread harvest of
potential Operators, for unknown reasons. The way we figure it, they were
getting them for the Anathema, and the kids they couldn’t use ended up on the
black market, harvested for organs. Could’ve sold ’em as slaves, of course, but
then they might have told somebody about what happened to them. Can never be
too careful. Stories tend to get around, you know, even stories told by teenage
prostitutes. You following all this, Alex? You’re a little quiet back there.”
Alex nodded, then
realized that Miss Gallow wasn’t looking at him.
“I follow,” he said, his
voice thin and weak.
“Good. Because this is
the important part,” Alice said, stopping at the top of the stairs, in front of
the door that led into the central lobby of the Audits building. “We are
Auditors, Alex – and maybe one day you will be one, too – and our business is
reconciliation. We find errors and we rectify them. We make sure debts are
paid, that the right parties get what’s coming to them. And nobody likes having
their mistakes pointed out.”
Alice turned toward him,
wearing her mirthless smile.
“That makes us
unpopular. Makes our business ugly. But the alternative – letting sleeping dogs
lie, allowing accounts to go unbalanced – that’s even uglier. Never forget
that. No matter how bad it gets in the field, no matter what you have to do –
there is always a worse alternative, and all we need to do to make it happen is
nothing.”
Alice leaned in and
pressed her finger into his sternum.
“You got it, Alex? You understand?”
He swallowed with
difficulty, then nodded.
“Good. I’m glad we had
this little talk. Now,” Alice said, her smile widening, “how ’bout some lunch?”
***
Lunch, at first glance, seemed
impossible. Just looking at the spaghetti with meatballs made the bile rise in
the back of his throat. Alex forced himself to assemble a plate consisting
primarily of fried rice, salad, and sliced apple, and then found his way to his
normal table, sitting beside Katya, Haley, and Min-jun – only to discover that
he was ravenous despite his distress. He blamed the nanites for his callous
appetite.
“Good to see you in one piece,”
Katya
Chief Auditor held him together.
“Even with harvesting
from prisoners, political or otherwise, organs were still at a premium, and
some were harder to find than others. A few months ago, that all changed. The
market was flooded periodically, mass harvests that overwhelmed the surgical
centers’ ability to process them, to find patients. Half of ’em probably rotted
on ice. But the activists couldn’t figure out the source. Falun Gong was pretty
much wiped out in China years ago, and there hadn’t been any mass arrests or
dissident suppression to explain the sudden uptick. They figured the government
was up to its usual shenanigans, but Analytics thought otherwise.”
There was a girl with
defiant eyes, no more than sixteen, holding tightly to what was obviously her
younger brother, maybe old enough for kindergarten – and even more obviously
dead. Alex tried to avert his eyes, but wherever he looked, it was just as bad.
Eventually, he settled for focusing on Miss Gallow’s back, the monochrome
tattoo of the Tree of Life rippling as the muscles in her back moved.
“There is a similar
industry in the Caucasus – Chechnya, parts of occupied Georgia, and the like.
We sent Mitzi – Miss Aoki – to investigate. What she turned up, plus another
field investigation in Malaysia and Indonesia, was enough for Analytics to
corroborate our suspicions.”
They made it to the
stairs, which led to the ground floor of the Audits building, out of the
atrocities in the garage. Alex was filled with gratitude the moment his foot
touched the first step.
“It was the Society, the
Asian franchise of the global vampire club. We still aren’t sure how they were
identifying the children, but they were conducting a widespread harvest of
potential Operators, for unknown reasons. The way we figure it, they were
getting them for the Anathema, and the kids they couldn’t use ended up on the
black market, harvested for organs. Could’ve sold ’em as slaves, of course, but
then they might have told somebody about what happened to them. Can never be
too careful. Stories tend to get around, you know, even stories told by teenage
prostitutes. You following all this, Alex? You’re a little quiet back there.”
Alex nodded, then
realized that Miss Gallow wasn’t looking at him.
“I follow,” he said, his
voice thin and weak.
“Good. Because this is
the important part,” Alice said, stopping at the top of the stairs, in front of
the door that led into the central lobby of the Audits building. “We are
Auditors, Alex – and maybe one day you will be one, too – and our business is
reconciliation. We find errors and we rectify them. We make sure debts are
paid, that the right parties get what’s coming to them. And nobody likes having
their mistakes pointed out.”
Alice turned toward him,
wearing her mirthless smile.
“That makes us
unpopular. Makes our business ugly. But the alternative – letting sleeping dogs
lie, allowing accounts to go unbalanced – that’s even uglier. Never forget
that. No matter how bad it gets in the field, no matter what you have to do –
there is always a worse alternative, and all we need to do to make it happen is
nothing.”
Alice leaned in and
pressed her finger into his sternum.
“You got it, Alex? You understand?”
He swallowed with
difficulty, then nodded.
“Good. I’m glad we had
this little talk. Now,” Alice said, her smile widening, “how ’bout some lunch?”
***
Lunch, at first glance, seemed
impossible. Just looking at the spaghetti with meatballs made the bile rise in
the back of his throat. Alex forced himself to assemble a plate consisting
primarily of fried rice, salad, and sliced apple, and then found his way to his
normal table, sitting beside Katya, Haley, and Min-jun – only to discover that
he was ravenous despite his distress. He blamed the nanites for his callous
appetite.
“Good to see you in one piece,”
Katya
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