Джеффри Дивер - The Goodbye Man

“That’s how it went. What do I know about the forestry business and logging companies? I’m a surveyor. Then there was the family stuff.”

“That can be hard.”

He shrugged as if he didn’t want to talk about the session any more. “How long until you’re a Journeyman?”

“A few days, I hope. There’s still work to do. Some other steps. The Endurances.”

Odd she used that word. Ashton Shaw insisted that the children pass survival endurance tests, one of which was Doris’s late-night climb that broke the family apart.

He laughed grimly to himself. He’d used the fictional name. He corrected: his sister, Dorion .

“Greetings, Companions” came the soft, male voice from behind them.

Shaw recognized it immediately.

They both turned. Approaching was Eli and his entourage: Anja and Steve, along with the two AU minders, Squat and Gray.

Everyone exchanged the salute, except for Anja. She nodded and with a faint smile stepped back slightly.

“Novice Carter and Apprentice Victoria,” Eli said. He appeared pleased to see them.

“Master Eli.” Victoria’s voice quavered and her head dipped, as if she were in the presence of royalty.

Shaw nodded to the man. Up close, he could see that Eli’s blue eyes were so light the color had to come from theatrical contact lenses.

“How did your first session go today?” he asked Shaw.

“Okay, I guess. Kind of a kick in the gut, looking at those Minuses.”

“Oh, how well I know. But that’s the way it should be. The way it has to be, for the Process to work. I’ve planned it out carefully. I spent years fine-tuning the machine.”

“You did a good job.”

“You think so?”

“I do,” Shaw told him.

Eli’s face radiated self-satisfaction.

“Apprentice Victoria, you’ve come a long way. The reports are glowing. I knew you were going to be a good one from the start. I can spot them. I always can.”

“Thank you, sir.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry. Master Eli .”

Shaw remembered that she’d gotten into trouble with sir and ma’am in the past.

“Oh, no harm done, dear.” He smiled. “I’m having a meditation session in the Study Room tonight. Would you attend?”

“Me? Oh, of course, Master Eli.” Her eyes widened.

“Good. After dinner.” The man turned his attention toward Shaw. “And, Novice Carter, since you’re expedited, we’ll get you to the Study Room too. Soon. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. They’re immersive study sessions in the residence. My own brand of transcendental meditation. Came up with it myself. It’s patented.”

Victoria said to Shaw, “It’s an honor to be asked.”

“Yeah, well, sure. Sounds like fun.”

Eli chuckled and looked at Steve, who smiled in response. He said to his aide, “We’ll see how fun he feels it is after all the hard work. It can be... There’s a word.”

Steve supplied one. “Strenuous.”

“Yes. Strenuous.”

“But,” Steve added quickly, “fulfilling.”

“Cool,” Shaw said, after running the word past Skye.

He noticed that Anja was looking his way. The expression on her face was neutral. Did it mask suspicion, or something else?

“A word with you, Novice Carter.” Master Eli said this in a conspiratorial tone and walked away, without saying anything to the others. Shaw followed. When they were out of earshot, he looked Shaw up and down with his silken eyes. “I have a proposition for you. Just something to keep in mind.”

“Yes, Master Eli?”

“There’s a special group of Companions. The most elite.”

“Inner Circle?”

“No, beyond them. They’re called Selects. Only one percent of Companions are picked. I do that myself, and train them personally. It can take a year or more. But they earn a salary while they undergo the training and afterward. They’re like monks, you could say. You’ve probably seen some around the camp. They have our uniforms but don’t wear amulets.”

“I wondered about them.”

The sullen workers he’d seen in Building 14. Maybe that was the Select training facility.

“They have our symbol, of course. Their heads’re shaved and tattooed with the infinity sign on their scalps. Then the hair grows back.” Eli gave a soft smile. “I know this is only your first day but you fit the profile. You’re single, no children, you like to travel. Journeyman Samuel says you don’t mind working hard.”

So they’d already communicated about him.

“You know what it’s like to have a hard life. That’s an important factor for Selects. And they need to be fit, not the sort who’re easily intimidated. Sometimes people don’t quite appreciate our worldview. There’ve been protests. Even some altercations occasionally.”

“I’ve found, you know, if you speak the truth, that pisses people off.”

“You and Novice Todd are this group’s best choices for Select.”

Shaw recalled Todd from the dinner table. The former military man.

“What exactly would I do?”

“Call it customer relations.”

Recruiting, probably. Going to bereavement centers and funerals. Convincing people to sign up.

“Yeah, I’m kind of up for it. Let me think.”

“Of course. We’ll talk more. Oh, and we’ll keep this between ourselves. Only I and a few others are involved in the Select program.”

“Sure, Master Eli.”

They exchanged the salute and Eli joined the others and walked on.

Shaw and Victoria continued their stroll along the path. She looked at him curiously. “Guess my training’s going okay,” he said.

She seemed to want to ask more but chose not to.

Shaw asked, “Want to get some lunch?”

Victoria hesitated a moment but said, “I should finish journaling.” She held up her notebook, as if she were batting away his invitation.

Shaw studied the appealing, thoughtful face.

Art-house actress...

“So the Process’s working for you?” he asked.

“Every day here there are fewer and fewer bad moments. When I advance in a few weeks,” she said, her face bright, “I know everything’ll be fine.”

The cult-speak amused Shaw; Companions couldn’t say they “graduate” from the training. They had to say “advance.”

He said, “I’ll see you at the Second Discourse.”

“I’ll be there.”

Which wasn’t an acknowledgment that they would in fact meet in the Square.

Without giving the salute they went separate ways, Shaw heading down toward the dining hall for a sandwich and coffee. As he walked he was thinking: The Foundation was odd and unsettling, no question about that, the regimentation, the frenzied political rally tone in the dining hall last night and in the Square this morning, Eli’s ego and need for control. Shaw decided it was safe in labelling the Osiris Foundation a cult.

A dangerous one, though? It was hard to dismiss the murder of the journalist in San Francisco and the beating of the reporter Shaw had witnessed. Those incidents, however, now seemed like outliers, committed by isolated negatives: Harvey Edwards, in San Francisco, and Hugh, the dangerous, renegade head of the Assistance Unit. Edwards’s background suggested he was unhinged. And Hugh? Like rent-a-cops everywhere, he would enjoy flexing his authority — and his muscles, putting his little-used karate moves into practice and bullying and coming on to women.

Eli himself was clearly narcissistic but in an almost comical way. Shaw hadn’t seen a truly dark side. He clearly was devoted to his altruistic mission to help people in pain.

As the deprogrammer had said, Eli might not even know about Hugh’s attack or Edwards’s murdering the journalist.