Paolo Bacigalupi - The Doubt Factory

They both scanned the names. Lisa frowned. Under VISITORS…

“Oh, Alix,” Lisa murmured. “What have you gotten yourself involved in?”

“Do you want me to shut this down?”

“Yeah. Kill it.”

The tech nodded. “We don’t have remote access—all we’re getting is the radio SOS from the system. I’ll have to send a team to go over everything.”

“No! Wait!” Lisa gripped his shoulder. “Don’t do anything yet. Let it run. Send someone over to pull a copy, but let it run for now. There’s no way Alix is working on her own. Maybe there’s a way we can use this to our advantage.”

“What about BSP?”

“Get a team to analyze just how bad this is. After that, I’ll talk to Banks myself. With his daughter involved, he’ll need some convincing.” She grimaced. “But call George Saamsi. He’ll understand the client situation. Bring him up to speed on everything. After that, I’ll decide how to talk to Banks.”

Lisa wasn’t looking forward to the conversation. Banks would have to be notified that he had a serious breach and that his daughter was the source. And that there were more interests involved than just his personal family issues. He’d be in denial.

Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone, Alix? Lisa thought. You had such a bright future .

“You’re sure we should let this run?” the tech asked.

“The system’s cut off from the outside, right?”

He nodded reluctantly.

“Then it’s harmless as is. I want to talk to people higher up first. Until we have a strategy to protect our clients permanently, I don’t want to frighten off our little secret mole. Let her think she’s succeeding. If we play this right, we have a chance to wrap up 2.0 once and for all.”

Tonight, she’d need to talk to Mr. Banks and explain to him the situation with his daughter. Maybe Saamsi could help him understand the gravity of the situation.

Lisa paused. Or was it Banks himself? Could he be compromised as well? She considered the possibility because she was trained to follow paranoia down to the worst possible outcomes, but she decided it was unlikely.

Banks wouldn’t need a sneaky little Estonian program to grab anything he wanted. The man could do whatever he liked and cover his tracks easily. No, it was his daughter who was the security threat. And behind her…

“Hello, 2.0,” Lisa murmured. “This time, I’m not going to miss.”

“JUST FOLLOW MY LEAD,” MOSESmurmured as they rode the elevator from the parking garage level.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Alix asked as she tried to keep her mop and yellow bucket from banging against the elevator doors. They were both dressed in good approximations of the gray jumpsuit uniforms that Beltway Properties cleaning staff wore, purchased at a supply store in the city that afternoon. “This feels risky.”

Moses smiled conspiratorially and for a second the seriousness that he’d been carrying lightened. “Trust a uniform, Alix. People love to trust uniforms.”

“Then they shouldn’t make buying them so easy.”

Moses lifted the security badge that he’d pickpocketed off another custodian in the parking garage. “They also trust badges.”

“Well, they better not look too closely, or someone’s going to notice you’re not the same black dude as the one on the tag.”

“They won’t look,” Moses said. “They’ll know they can trust me.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The elevator doors opened, revealing the polished lobby of 609 K Street. Across the lobby, a security guy was sitting behind the central desk pulling his own night shift.

They pushed their mops and buckets across the open lobby, ignoring the guy. Alix suppressed an urge to whistle innocently.

Just two custodians pushing their mop buckets, just two people getting their job done and heading home. No need to think about us. No need to worry .

As they got close to the elevators, Alix had a horrible urge to look over at the security guy.

Moses seemed to read her mind. “Try looking sleepy and bored and like you wish you weren’t here. And keep your head low. You don’t want the cameras to see your face,” he advised quietly.

“I know,” Alix whispered back. “I’m the one who told you where the cameras are.”

“My girlfriend thinks she knows about surveillance.”

“Your girlfriend knows how to study up.”

She realized what he’d done as they reached the elevators. He’d completely distracted her as they made their way across the lobby. Forcing her to forget the audaciousness of what they were doing.

She swiped her father’s key card in the elevator, and the doors opened. “Floor ten,” she breathed. “Going up.”

To Moses, it felt claustrophobic, standing in the elevator without any buttons or controls. Just polished stainless steel, a little prison box like the one his uncle had ended up in. Their reflections were distorted, both of them looking bloated and alien in their uniforms, with their yellow plastic mop buckets. He reached to hold Alix’s hand and felt a jolt of comfort from the contact. He stared at their polished steel reflections, trying to calm himself and stay focused on the job.

As the elevator rose, carrying them to the place that had become his obsession, Moses wondered if he was making a mistake by risking Alix in this way.

Is that where this ends? Moses wondered. Am I going to jail?

Even if it worked, what was supposed to happen next? Another heist? Was he supposed to go all WikiLeaks and end up as a hunted whistle-blower? The FBI already wanted him. How long before the wrong people decided to devote real energy to finding him?

Or maybe he was just going to end up in a box, six feet under. Another number in all the statistics of black men that his father had warned him about and that his mother had feared. Don’t end up like your cousin. Don’t end up like so-and-so’s nephew—

Don’t end up in a coffin.

He remembered each of his parents in their coffins, each of their smooth faces beyond pain, even though when they’d died he’d seen the terror in their eyes.

He remembered those funerals. First Dad, with Mom to stand beside him. Then Mom, and only Uncle Ty to take care of him. He remembered standing there, not knowing how to cry and not knowing how to let go, with his stiff-faced uncle holding his hand. Don’t worry, boy. I got you. Your uncle Ty’s got you .

The elevator opened, revealing an antechamber with locked glass doors. Beyond the doors, BANKS STRATEGY PARTNERS gleamed on a wall over the reception area.

“Welcome to the Doubt Factory,” Alix said.

Moses found he couldn’t move.

“You okay?” Alix asked.

Alix tugged him, and he let himself be pulled off the elevator. Moses swallowed. “I’ve spent the last three years wanting to get into here. Cruising by outside, looking for some way…” He trailed off. This was where all his pain had come from.

His father lying on the bathroom floor, gasping. Trying to get up and failing. And then his mother, a year later, collapsing under the stress of loss. Tumbling to the floor of the grocery store, cans rolling, bottles shattering, lettuce spilling out onto the linoleum tiles while everyone turned and stared. And him standing there, stupid with shock. Seeing the thing he’d feared the most, happening right in front of him. He remembered trying to make his body move, to run to her, and instead finding himself frozen and unable to do anything at all.

It had all started here.