The Second Sphere

It appeared that Newberry went to some effort to make this appear real; to make it seem like there was some vast conspiracy. I watched and re-watched the interviews just to make sure I didn’t miss some tiny detail that would betray their veracity. But the more I saw, the more I believed.

I took the files, made four copies, moved one to an encrypted folder on my link-up and the others on to three storage chips. I shoved two of the chips in my pocket.

I wasn’t going to take any chances with this, true or not. The information needed to be sent somewhere, just in case something happened to me. I couldn’t say what made me do it. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was an unseen force.

I went to the package delivery system room in the second sub-basement to avoid any inquiries on the Intelligence floor as to my actions. A small bot hovered behind a low, beaten counter. Behind him, various bots processed incoming and outgoing packages. The place smelled stale and metallic.

There wasn’t another transfer in sight. And yet, I felt a curious need to avoid detection. I shuffled around for a while to make sure that the little bot didn’t pay too much attention to me, as I thumbed my way through the various packaging in the bins on the far wall, away from the counter. I picked up an oblong plastic container, which seemed as good as any to make the shipment. I put the chip inside, programmed the address to go to my daughter, and gave it to the bot. He didn’t ask any questions, which was fortunate, because I didn’t have any answers. It would take a few days, but I hoped the chip would make it.

Outside the package room, I leaned against the wall, wishing that I had my drive with me. I didn’t want to be tricked by a few distorted interviews. There was only one thing that made me believe they were real: Newberry was dead. It was this fact that made me put one foot in front of the other headed toward Bryant’s office.