The Second Sphere

At Floor 63, I shoved my way off the elevator and into the ostentatious reception area. On the far wall, the silver words Laslow Intelligence shimmered. Several uncomfortable white couches formed a u-shape to my left. They were empty. The place smelled like disinfectant.

“Morning, Hildie,” I said to our receptionist bot who hovered behind a chest-high link-up station. She tilted her wide, metallic head to the side and smiled.

“Good morning, Mr. Cox,” she said.

I stood in front of the main entrance to our office, a non-descript black door, and thought in my code on the keypad. A beam of red light from a sensor in the door flashed over my neck and I heard a loud click.

As I went into the office, I realized that the maze of cubicles where our analysts normally sat was empty. It was only when I looked to my right that I understood why. Just like any person, those in the intelligence field like to be in front of a screen when tragedies happen. About thirty people gathered around the far wall, watching reports from New Mumbai pour in.

The images were strange colors and printed words. Voices filled in the content of the story. Fires burned. So-called durable plastics melted. The Three Spheres’ Joint Security Forces were lead on the investigation. They closed sectors, kept reporters out of the blast radius. Those in the impact zone were detained, held for cleaning, thoroughly interrogated.

If you ever wanted a job screwed up, you asked the government to do it. That’s something I learned when I worked for them years ago.

Estimates of the dead seesawed between figures. Some of those interviewed said twenty-five. Others said a thousand. No one was sure, and I knew that no one would be sure for at least another few days, if not a week. I speculated that this wasn’t any different than the normal GR bombings that we saw every few months on Mars and occasionally here on the moon. My guess was a body count somewhere in the neighborhood of 1500.

I felt a thump on my shoulder and turned. There before me was Bryant. His lips curled into a rather unpleasant sneer; his eyes narrowed to two lines. He was a handsome transfer, with bristly dark hair and a plug for a nose. He tossed his head to the side, twirled away from me, and left. I presumed that was my signal to follow him.

Bryant had more than 450 years of experience behind him in various military and intelligence capacities for several government entities and at Laslow. He was a guy whose sense of duty was so great, I was certain that if he ever chose not to renew his Transfer, he’d ask to have his chip interred somewhere in the Laslow Building. Bryant had been my boss for the past fifty years, since I’d been on the second sphere.

Bryant’s office was at the head of the hallway, a prominent display of his status as premier expert on intelligence and all matters related to the Green Revolution. Despite its grand size, he’d managed to fill his office with as much junk as he could. There were bits of circuit boards and old link-ups in the corners. There was a wall that was just for the rack, which his suits and dress shirts hung on, a requirement since he spent several nights a week in the office; and a few safes full of crucial evidence from past cases that probably needed to be brought downstairs for storage.

Bryant motioned to a seat, went around his desk, and plopped in his chair. “Nice of you to join us,” he said.

“Bryant--”

His shoulders hunched at his ears. “When you get privileged information at the Source, I don’t expect you to take an hour to get in here.”

“Yes, boss.” Bryant was regularly in a foul mood. But today, it appeared that he’d discovered a new pit from which to draw ire.

“I expect you to do what I say, when I say it.”

“Yes, boss.”

“You find anything?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Big crowd. Hard to pinpoint.”

He leaned back in his chair and regarded me coldly. He looked down at my right side. I stared at him for a moment, unsure of what he saw. Then, he did it again.

“Orion,” he said. I looked down and saw that my Love drive was in my hand. I hadn’t realized.

“Sorry,” I said. Bryant’s eyes fell to his desk.

“I don’t need this, Orion. Not now.” This was Bryant’s version of disappointment.

“It won’t happen again,” I said, knowing that this was a sizable fib.

“I’m about up to my neck with all of Rosie’s shit. She’s pushing her last days. I don’t want you going down that path, too.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Get it under control.”

I wanted to obey him. In fact, there was nothing that I wanted to do more than stop. But kicking a habit like Love was neither easy nor particularly beneficial to my short-term mental health. Not if he wanted me pulling more eighteen-hour days.

“I wanted you in early, because I wanted to talk to you about New Mumbai before we get into the day,” Bryant said.

“Sure.”

“Don’t know whether you’ve put any thought into this over the past hour or so.” He raised his head and rested his eyes on the ceiling.

“Not a single thought,” I said.

“Tch.” His hand dropped, thud, on to the desk. “Does it seem a little coincidental to you, Orion?”

I shook my head. “Coincidental?”

“We spent six months trying to stop a bombing at the Lunar Capitol, which we thought was going to happen today.”

“And? The GR--”

“Doesn’t it seem strange that we spent those six months chasing intel on a whole other case and another bombing happens on the exact same day?”

“I’m not following,” I said.

His brow wrinkled like a raisin. “What’s wrong with you, Orion? You doing too much Love? Too many happy thoughts in your head keeping you from seeing clearly?” Bryant pushed his torso halfway across the table. “Wake up, Orion!”

“I’m awake!”

“No, you’re not.” He adjusted himself in his chair, pulled it forward so that he was square up against the desk in front of him. “You’re the one who brought us this intel on the Lunar Capitol, Orion. Convinced us that we needed help from the Martian office.” Bryant put up three fingers. “Third piece of bad intel you’ve brought in the last six months.”

I felt the synthetic blood drain from my face.

“Let’s start with a bit about this informant of yours,” he said.