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Narrative

Beneath the Wall of Sleep

Although there was a fair-sized crowd in the library today, it was astonishingly quiet. The crowd was scattered among tables and carrels, studying singly or in twos and threes.

Brenda Redmond had come up here to pick up some material she needed for this afternoon’s class. But when she saw Kitty Margrave over at one of the study carrels, she recalled how Cindy had seemed rather upset this morning at the station.

Cindy had been trying to keep her professional face on, but she was still young enough that she didn’t have as much control as she thought she did. That little quaver in her voice, especially on the phone when she was sending callers to the appropriate office. The tendency to rush just a little whenever something difficult came up. It was only noticeable if you really were looking — but Brenda knew Cindy well enough to recognize the tells.

Except she was doing well enough that I didn’t want to raise the issue, because it would come across as criticism.

Which made Brenda wonder if she really ought to raise the question with Kitty, or if it would be better to leave well enough alone. In ordinary times, Brenda would’ve asked Betty Margrave, but the chief of Safety and Security was far too busy right now to be distracted by concerns about what might well be an ordinary personal upset.

And then Kitty looked up from her carrel. “Hi, Brenda. Have you heard anything new about what’s happening with Amy?”

“Actually I was wondering whether something was worrying your sister. Cindy seemed a little uneasy today at work.”

Kitty glanced around. “Well, it’s been a few days since we’ve gotten anything at all from her. Not even those weird, stilted messages that sound like someone’s dictated the words she’s to say.”

“That is worrying.” Brenda considered what their next step should be. She still hadn’t heard anything back about Robbie’s situation either, and she wasn’t sure which one was touchier.

In some ways, not knowing anything can let me hope that she’s found some kind of modus vivendi with her parents’ prejudices. Those weird stilted messages make me think of the elective I did a while ago on the Great Terror, and how they’d sometimes make prisoners write several postcards to their families, all about how they’re doing well in the labor camps, to hide the fact that they were actually about to be executed.

“Do you think we ought to ask Eli if he can find out whether Amy’s OK? I mean, he’s family–“

“But he’d have to have formal authorization to be able to break into secure systems, which means we’d have to go through IT, and possibly have to go all the way up to Captain Waite. I’m not sure he’d want to authorize it. Every time one of our people goes poking around government databases dirtside, it raises the risk that the Administration will take action.”

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