Part 1, The Ticking Clock

  Chapter 4 - Looking Forward To It

  I turn through my father’s reference books one by one, flipping page after page of detailed symbiont diagrams carefully drawn by artists before me. Their line work is meticulous, attention to detail that I could only dream of in my own work, exact counts of scales and feathers duplicated on the page from descriptions given to them by their hosts, gifts for the rest of us who cannot see.

  It’s stunning to me what they could create without seeing it for themselves. I touch the signature of one artist, a few lines in the black printed ink beneath the gorgeous spread wings of an Aquila.

  With a sigh, I leaf through the pages to the Larus reference I’m seeking and compare the image to my own sketch. This is an older reference, they have the hind limbs completely wrong.

  “Gilroy, do we have a copy of Johansen?”

  Gilroy leans round his work station, glasses perched on his nose.

  “I thought so? Why?”

  I glance over at the datasheet I’m referencing from the Fitzgerald interview. “Fitzgerald described a type H7 foot on his Larus, this is closer to a H9…”

  Gilroy slowly stands, leaning over his desk to look at my scattered drawings and the book I’m referencing. “Carmen’s collected works are considered the standard for Avians-” he begins.

  “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’ve got Carmen. But the foot doesn’t match,” I tap the data sheet on my tablet to make my point.

  “You sure he said it was a H7?” he asks, peering at the screen.

  I bite my lip, “That’s what Fitzgerald said. Johansen has that rare species collection, can we just check? I’ll make two versions with each reference - it’s your paper, you can decide which one you want to use after?”

  Gilroy hums, scratching at the point his reading glasses rests on his nose, “No harm in it I guess. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  He grabs his ID card hanging from the lamp at his workstation and disappears to get the book from the back catalogues where my security clearances won’t let me, leaving me alone in the office. I bend back to my work, coloring in the banded feathers on the Larus tail that I was working on before getting distracted.

  “Conrada Dorrien?”

  I start, dropping my pencil at the unfamiliar voice.

  “Here,” I glance at the stranger, taking in their suit and squinting at the ID card clipped to their breast pocket, “I’m Conrada, Supervisor… Sterling?”

  “Just Sterling is fine. I’m from HR, I was wondering if you were free to chat for a moment?”

  She leans in the doorway of the lab not quite entering the room, deceptively casual except for the tight grip her hands have on the tablet held to her chest.

  My breath catches. “Uh, here? Sup Sterling?”

  “Just Sterling. And I have a conference room set aside upstairs, if you don’t mind?”

  I glance around the empty office, Fuck. “I should let Dr Dorrien know where I’m going…” I rise slowly, packing my pencils into the metal case.

  “Oh we won’t be a moment. I’ll escort you back when we are done so I can do any explaining for you.”

  “I was going to my friend's manifestation later, I wasn’t expecting…”

  “I won’t keep you that long, you won’t miss a thing. Just a chat.”

  Fuck. I close my folio and wipe my hands against the fabric of my scrubs, then follow her to the elevators out of the basement as bid. Supervisor Sterling swipes her ID card instead of punching in a floor to the elevator and catches my glance in her direction.

  “The whole floor for HR is secure access. We have everyone’s employee files you know,” she laughs.

  I give her a weak grin, “Yeah, makes sense.”

  We barely pause as the elevator opens on a view over Murasaki district, mostly obscured by the buildings on either side. Sunlight glares off steel casting the world in white and grey with the occasional glimpse into offices and apartments privileged enough for windows. The sky beyond is stained yellow with low hanging smog. I can see down to the elevated skyways between the buildings, and the stacked common areas and mess halls between business and residential areas. Wherever the ground is, it's lost between the walkways and buildings.

  I’m led to a nearby conference room where a slim, older man in a black uniform is already waiting. I sit as bid at a table designed for eight, and nervously glance between them as Sup Sterling sits across from me joining the older man.

  “I promise you are not in trouble,” she begins, “This is Vice President Watanabe, from Security.”

  He stands, “Thank you for coming up, Conrada. I understand you’ll be manifesting soon?” His voice is smooth and clipped. On his shoulder, I can see the long legged form of his Phasma taking painfully slow steps; invertebrate symbionts are definitely a gap in my knowledge, I might even have the genus wrong. I blink it out of sight so I won’t be tempted to let my eyes drift.

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  My mouth is so dry I lick my lips again before speaking. “Uh, yeah. I’ll be on the schedule for next week, maybe the one after… Will this take long? I’ve got so much work to finish.”

  “Sup Sterling is here to help me, make sure we follow all the proper protocols. We won’t be long at all. Did she say why we asked you to come speak with us?”

  I shake my head, I tuck my hands under the conference table out of sight.

  Sterling takes over, “Can you repeat your employee identification number for us?”

  “SB0088907B,” I reply obediently.

  “SB?” repeats Watanabe casually, “You’re a serf from the Systems Biotechnica buyout?”

  “Uh yes. It should say that in my file.”

  He abruptly changes topic, “Can you take a look at this security footage for me and tell me what you see?”

  Sterling slides her tablet across the table as he makes his request. I swallow, then my brow furrows when I recognize the lobby from the labs below us in the black and white security footage. The video is paused and I glance at them before tapping the play button with one finger. It’s less than two minutes total, I keep my mouth tightly shut as I watch myself enter, swiping my way through the turnstile as I joke with Chuck, then the footage resets.

  “I’m not sure what you expect me to see? I dropped by the lab last night to leave some equipment, I had approval from Dr Dorrien-”

  “You’re not in trouble,” reassures Watanabe, taking a seat again, “Mr Green didn’t sign you in.”

  I glance at the security footage again, my voice catching, “Chuck didn’t…” That can’t be it, this has to be a trap.

  “Mr Green, yes. He didn’t sign you in.”

  I look between them, “I’m sorry. I know we’re meant to, I was just in and out dropping something off.”

  “It’s technically against policy. But we’re all human,” says Sterling with a laugh, “We just want to know if this is a common occurrence?”

  I swallow, “Is Ch- Mr Green in trouble?”

  “We’re not accusing Mr Green of anything at this point in our investigation.” Watanabe leans on the conference table, raising his eyebrow conspiratorially as if he is letting me in on a secret, “We’ve had some competitors beating us to market recently, the board has personally asked me to review our protocols in the labs with relevant research. It could just be chance, there’s plenty of other companies out there rushing to beat our work everyday. When it happens, all the valuable time you and your lab does is lost before it can generate the revenue needed to keep us all afloat. You can see why we might be concerned?”

  “You think there’s been leaks?” I test hesitantly.

  “No, nothing so serious. But we’re investigating just to be sure, rattling the bars so to speak.”

  “My Da- Dr Dorrien’s lab group does taxonomy research, VP Watanabe. Mostly our work isn’t commercialized, Dr Dorrien could explain it better…”

  Watanabe waves his hand casually to silence me, “Relax Conrada. We’re not accusing you or your father’s lab of anything. I just want to know if you're aware of other times this, or anything like this, has happened? In case we come across anything else in the security footage while we give things a once over. It’s better to be honest now, easier than explaining yourself later,” he finishes with a smile.

  I’m not so stupid I’d make a mess in my own backyard. They have nothing on me, surely. I quickly reply before I get lost in my racing thoughts. “I can’t remember, Chuck’s a good guy. I don’t think he’d do something like that on purpose.”

  Watanabe smiles, “I’m sure. Don’t let it happen again all right? Security, just like safety, is everyone’s responsibility. If you’re not signed in correctly, you should feel free to remind them yourself.”

  “I’ll be sure to remember that VP. Am I okay to leave?”

  “Yes, Supervisor Sterling here can lead you back down and let anyone know your absence was authorized.”

  I get to my feet, tucking my twitching fingers into the pocket of my scrubs. “Thank you VP, sir.”

  “My pleasure Conrada. Good luck with your manifestation. I’ve had a look at your family's files, we’re looking forward to it.”

  I pause in shock, quickly masking my dread with a blank expression. Watanabe remains seated at the conference table, turning his head down to read something on his hand-held as he dismisses me.

  Sterling shuts the door behind me and beckons back to the elevators, “See nothing so bad. I’ll see you back down then!” she says cheerily.

  At the office I pause, tenting my fingers over the reference book Gilroy has dropped at my desk and reflecting on the conversation.

  As I turn it in my head I’m certain the interaction was what it seemed on the surface, no traps and just the potential leaks they suggested. There’s just no way I can see a VP getting involved with some casual vandalism if they did have something on me. I'm careful, I usually make sure that it is something that will break long after I’ve been and gone, and I don’t work in my own backyard or create a pattern.

  As I sit again, I open the cover of Johansen’s “Companion Guide to Rare and Unusual Vertebrates” and turn through the pages. Half the volume has no drawings, symbionts so rare they’ve never been formally classified and described, just names of genera or rumors of powers.

  “Do you still go to the seminars other labs run?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual as I pick up my pencil again.

  Gilroy leans around his work station again, looking down his glasses at me, “Yeah? Does Johansen have what you were looking for?”

  “Anyone ever talk about what competitors are doing?” I ask, using the motion of turning another page to hide any nerves.

  “Doesn’t really matter to the taxonomists. The applied teams are usually more worried about being scooped, or corporate espionage,” he replies mildly, typing as he talks.

  I pause on another empty page, the genus Gryphem listed across the top with a description of abilities associated with the species. “Companies stealing from each other is common?”

  “Enough that they worry about it.”

  My wrist buzzes and I glance at the message.

  On our way now, meet you at the terminal for the inner city? - MK, ID:MRG2002322G

  I pull my hand-held out of my pocket.

  Just wrapping up - CD, ID:SB0088907B

  On my way out the building, Chuck is missing from the security desk. There’s always a chance his schedule changed, but I’m pretty good at remembering details like that.