Software Considerations

8

He dropped his hands, reached forward with what appeared to be herculean effort, picked up a printout of her offering and read: ‘Jack Carter and Sandy Lyle may well be the latest in a long line of corporate conglomerates pooling their resources and brain power to scale the dizzying heights at the top of the ladder in terms of personal and professional wealth and kudos. But at what expense to the lowly, green corporate straight out of college with his foot on the first rung?’

Don threw the sheet of paper back on his desk and raised an eyebrow at her.

‘What the hell is this? Your angry first draft?’

The chair creaked as she leaned forward, adopting what she hoped was a look of perplexity. ‘I’m not quite sure what you mean, Don. Carter and Lyle are indeed the latest to benefit from merging into a super-corporate, as it were. But my research and investigations reveal that the presence of these conglomerates are making it harder for the next generation to actually make a dent in the marketplace.’

‘Yes, so you explained.’ He picked up the sheet and read from it again. ‘At what point will the financial market begin to witness the ground-shifting fallout from major money-spinners monumentally screwing over their sons and heirs—’

‘Ah, yes. I meant to change that last bit.’

‘The point is, Sada, this was not the angle I intended, as I’m sure you well know.’

She leaned back with another groan from her chair, and mirrored his hands-to-chin pose. ‘I see. You wanted the ‘kiss the ass of those holding the purse strings’

angle as opposed to the ‘has anyone noticed our supreme financial institution is eating itself from the inside out’ one.’

Don glared at her as though deliberating a very precarious river crossing, but she knew deep down what really bothered him was not the point she was making but instead how crude she could be. Though barely past sixty, this was a man who had not adjusted well to cuss words passing the lips of what he perceived to be the tender gender. By this point he probably never would. Which is why she enjoyed letting the odd one slip every now and then.

She returned his glare with a straight face.

‘Look, Sada,’ he began, drawing out the words.

Here it comes.

‘I like you, I really do.’ Dollop one.

‘There’s no denying you’re one of the best writers we’ve got.’ Dollop two: she was THE best.

‘But my hands are tied.’ Dollop three.

‘You’ve got to stick to the script.’

She ground her teeth together at that particular dollop.

‘You see this pile here?’ He pointed to a War-and-Peace-sized mound of stapled papers in his in-tray. ‘Job applications. Those bright young things you’re talking about in the financial sector... well, there’s plenty of them in our line of work too.

And they’re just raring to go, happy to please, you know what I’m saying?’

Sada had heard all this before. Not so very long ago. From another of this city’s

‘great’ institutions. She got up and took her rejected offering from his desk. ‘I hear you loud and clear, Don. I’ll write it again. Just how you like it.’

She left his office, pulling the door behind her, but not quick enough to miss his parting words.

‘Atta girl.’

*

‘Thought you’d given up?’

Sada was trying to hide out on the rooftop, but to no avail. She stared out over the midday bustle of the city streets, a calamity of car horns and voices bouncing from one building to another, filtering skyward until they evaporated in the open air above. She held a cigarette close to her lips. ‘Gossip and lies, Alex,’ she replied, without turning around. ‘All gossip and lies; you know, those two principles we live our lives by.’

Alex sighed and sat down on the edge of an air-conditioning vent, resisting as he always did venturing too close to the edge of the building. ‘That bad, huh?’

She blew out a lungful of nicotine, flicked the butt over the edge and sauntered over to sit beside him. Amused brown eyes snagged her attention.

‘What?’

‘That could have hit someone down there,’ he said, with a wry smile. ‘They could be burning right now.’

‘Well let’s hope it’s Don fucking Mitchell’s lunch break then, eh? Right on the bald spot.’

He laughed and shook his head, but his amusement was only temporary. ‘Why do you do it, Sada? Why do you wind him up?’

‘Because it’s easy? And I’m bored?’ She sighed and thrust her hands into her pockets. ‘I don’t know. Because I can’t help myself. Because one day he might tell me I’m right, that I’ve uncovered something vital to the people of our city and we should tell as many people about it as we can so that it’ll make all the difference to their lives, to what they think they know.’

‘You know that’s never gonna happen.’

Absolutely, she knew. But what she said was, ‘It could. Ain’t nothin’ gonna

happen if we don’t try nothin’, Mr Hinckley.’ He smiled, but just like her joke it was with little conviction. ‘Anyway, that’s what our Movement is for, right?’

‘Yeah, I guess,’ he replied, and looked skyward where the clouds were shifting fast, threatening to cover the sun that warmed the cool fall day.

She ruffled his hair. ‘Not ‘I guess’. Don’t you give out on me now, soldier. The Movement is nothing without your energy and drive. I need you. To help me save the world.’

He laughed again and this time she was pleased to see the spark return to his eyes. It was true, he was full of drive, but all too quickly he could become deflated and that was what worried her the most. She should know that every time she came up against the likes of Don Mitchell and failed she wasn’t really helping Alex’s morale. She berated herself for being foolish again. As much as she hated to admit it, Don was right too – she had to stick to the script. She needed this job. For Jessica, for Alex, for everyone else like them in the city, ordinary people struggling to live ordinary lives in a place so driven by money that there was no room for anything or anyone else. Without this job, neither she nor Alex would be able to afford to stay, let alone have access to the resources that allowed them to try to make a difference in their own small way. Even if all that meant was a few anonymously printed leaflets giving people the truth they deserved, helping them see the wood for the trees (or the prison for the guards).

‘Speaking of saving the world,’ she said, patting him on the knee. ‘I’ve got to take Jess to Marcus’s tonight so I’ll use that as an excuse to leaflet drop in that north-east zone. I’ll do as much as I can.’

‘Okay. Message me when you’re done so I know you’re back safe. And will you link up your damn watch?’

‘My phone works perfectly fine.’

‘Sure, until it runs out of battery or you run out of credit. Get with the times, would you? Stop being so predictably stubborn.’

‘Okay, Pops.’

‘Good,’ he said, getting up. ‘Now for Christ’s sake can we get off this freaking roof ?’

Sada laughed, got to her feet and linked her arm in his. ‘Don’t worry, tiger, I’ll save you if you fall off.’

‘Yeah,’ he said, pulling open the door to the stairwell. ‘But who’s gonna save you?’

*

The fresh day turned into a cold night, giving Sada the perfect excuse to disguise herself under her winter coat by pulling the fake fur-lined hood close around her face. After dropping the last batch of newsletters in through the open doorway of a block of residential apartments, she had hurried along the street as if to return home. But as she neared Crest Street, the temptation to go and take another look was too much to bear.

Over the past two weeks since she was last there, she had considered her options, wondered how to approach the tribe, approach him. She couldn’t help feeling that she was on the brink of uncovering something important, potentially crucial to the wellbeing and future of the city and those within it. But she also knew she’d have to be careful and go about it the right way.

She hadn’t yet decided on what that right way was, but... well, she was already here now. Glancing nonchalantly around her first, she turned into the street and this time headed straight for the building where she’d seen Cloaked Cigarette Man.

It was easy to find for a second time even though the night seemed darker than it had been before. She peered up from under her hood to see rolling clouds beginning to move across an ever-changing sky, a blue and black kaleidoscope in constant motion. One beautiful thing, at least, about this ass-end of the city. She looked back to the road... and stopped dead in the middle of the street.

An outline of a figure was right in front of her.

He or she was standing at the pavement’s edge and seemed to be looking in the direction of the very wall she’d been about to use as cover again. They hadn’t seen her yet, their back was to her, but they could only be mere meters away. Whichever way she moved now would likely signal her presence and then who knew what would happen.

She fumbled in her pockets, knowing full well it wasn’t there but still praying it had fallen in by itself somehow. She hadn’t intended to come here tonight so why would she risk walking through the streets of Brumont with a weapon in her pocket?

In her head she cursed herself without restraint.

She didn’t think it was the man she’d seen before, the one with the cigarette. This person was taller, broader. More like... But then, they all looked the same didn’t they in those cloaks.

Her heart picked up the pace in her chest and warmth rose like a wave up her neck to her cheeks. He had half-turned but still hadn’t noticed her, maybe couldn’t see her standing there so still in the dark road. He wasn’t wearing the hood, and in the palest of lights coming from the building behind him, she could see his hair was thick, thicker than she’d remembered and long overdue a consultation with a

scissors and shaver.

She’d known it was him though, as soon as his head had turned. The memory of that moment may have been sketchy in the weeks since, but her brain reconnected the dots now and recognized him without question. He didn’t seem to be doing anything, other than looking to the sky, breathing in the night air.

Quietly she lifted each foot and took off her shoes so as not to draw his attention before she was ready. Then on stockinged feet she edged closer to where he stood with his back to her again now, his face turned upward. The gap between them narrowed and she still hadn’t thought of what to say. A terrifying thought gripped her. What if he didn’t recognize her?

But with less than three yards to go he turned, and glared right at her.

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