"Why did you have a security clearance?"
"If I could tell you that I wouldn't've had to have it!" Neko said. "I've got to go." She downed the last of her second beer and hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Jannine watched her through the room's transparent walls till she disappeared. She was surprised by Neko's weird reaction.
"Sorry," she said to the walls. "Didn't mean to be nosy."
She ate her dinner, more because she'd already paid for it than because she still felt hungry. For the same reason, she lifted weights for a while and pedaled on the bike till her hour ran out. She got down, retrieved her I.D. before she got charged for more time, and left the private room for the ASes to clean.
The tavern was still crowded, but quieter. She made her way through it without bumping into anyone.
Outside, the sky had clouded up. It looked like more rain. Jannine trudged toward home. At her last job, her coworkers had created a complicated system of intramural sports. There was always a team to join, or a team that needed a substitute. Any warm body would help. They welcomed a warm body who was a halfway decent player. At this job, though, her coworkers went straight to the tavern or straight home, or did something with some group that didn't include Jannine.
Maybe it's getting time to move on, she thought. But she didn't want to move on.
Morning rush was over; the streets were quiet for daytime. In the middle of the night, when she came to work, delivery trucks created a third rush hour.
The mist grew heavier. The droplets drifted downward. The rain began. It collected in her hair. Damp tendrils curled around her face.
Her apartment was nothing speciaclass="underline" a one-bedroom, the bedroom tiny and dark and cold. It always smelled musty. Not quite mold. Not quite mildew. But almost. Jannine looked at her unmade bed. She imagined crawling between the cold, wrinkled sheets.
"Shit," she muttered, and returned to the living room. She turned on the entertainment console and flipped through a hundred channels on the TV, fifty channels per minute, leaving them all two-d. Nothing interesting. She should've rented a movie. She could call something out of the cable, but it took too long to work through the preview catalogue, even on fast forward. All those clips of pretty scenery or car chases or people making love never told her what the movies were about. Usually the clips were the best part anyway. She left the remote on scan and tossed it onto the couch. The TV flipped past one channel, another.
Jannine went to take a shower. As she went through the pockets of her sweat-damp clothing, she closed her fingers around the note.
"Shit," she said again.
She smoothed the crumpled paper, staring at it, afraid to find out what the black marks said. Maybe it was too damaged to be read.
She dug the reader out of the closet, shoved the note into it, and listened.
"This evening, please report to room fifteen twenty-six instead of your usual position. Regular hourly
wage will apply-- "
Jannine shut off the reader, pulled the note out, and flung it into the sorter.
She'd avoided this test twice already, once by pretending she never received the note and once by calling in sick. She couldn't afford another sick day. Maybe tomorrow she could pretend she'd forgotten about the instructions. Once she hooked into her helmet, maybe they wouldn't bother her. She was a good worker, always above average. Not too far above average.
Jannine wondered what she had done, why she had to take a test.
She should've started looking for a new job as soon as she got the first note. But she liked working on the substrate. It was fun. She was good at it. It paid well. And despite Neko's worries, the company mostly produced crop fortifiers and medicines.
If she got away with forgetting the message-- she didn't believe she would, but if she did-- she'd have a week or so to look for new work before her employers realized they were put out with her. Maybe then at least they'd fire her without making her take the damn test.
Leaving her clothes strewn on the floor, Jannine climbed into bed, pulled the cold covers around her, and lay shivering, waiting for sleep.
* * *
At midnight, Jannine arrived at work and pretended it was an ordinary day. She checked in and played through the alert without paying any attention to it. When she passed, it congratulated her for a personal high score. Seeing how far up the ladder she'd run the testing game, she cursed under her breath. She hated to stand out. It always caused more trouble than it was worth. If she'd been less tired, less distracted, she would've paid attention and kept her results in the safe and easy and unremarkable middle ranges.
That's what I get for lying awake all night, she thought.
She reached out to cancel the game and use her second try. She'd never canceled a game before. That, too, drew the attention of the higher-ups.
"Good score."
Jannine started. "What-- ?"
An exec, in a suit, stood at her shoulder. She couldn't remember ever seeing an exec on the production level. Sometimes they watched from the balcony that looked out over the work floor, but hardly ever during the graveyard shift.
"Good score," he said again. "I knew you could go higher than you usually do. You got my note?"
He smiled, and Jannine's spirits sank.
"Yeah, well, thanks," she said, not really answering his question. "I better get to work."
"You did get my note?"
She saw that this time she wasn't going to get away with pretending she didn't know what he was talking about. He could probably whip out security videos that showed her taking the note, glancing at it, shoving it in her pocket. From three angles.
"I completely forgot," she said. "Is it important? My teammate's already waiting for me."
"We brought in a temp. Come along; we mustn't put this off again."
Jannine was scared. A temp was serious business, expensive.
Reluctantly, she followed the exec out of the alert room. They passed through sound effects and bright electronic lights. Jannine's coworkers played the games, proving they were fit to do their jobs for one more day.
Nearly late, Neko hurried toward her favorite alert console. She saw Jannine and the exec. She stopped, startled, looking as scared as Jannine felt. Behind the exec, out of his sight, Jannine shrugged elaborately and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. She tried to communicate: No big deal, see you later. She wished she could make herself believe it. Her hands felt cold and her stomach was upset.
The exec's I.D. opened a door that Jannine had never been through, that she'd never seen anyone use. The exec entered the elevator.
"Come on," he said, smiling again. "Everything OK?"
"Where are we going?"
He pointed upward. That was no help. The building was twenty stories high. Jannine had never been above the production level.
She entered the elevator. The doors closed behind her. She stood there, waiting, looking at the exec. She didn't know what else to do. The upward motion made her feel even queasier. Her ears popped.
The elevator stopped. The doors opened behind her.
"Here we are." The exec gestured for her to turn and precede him out.
He took her down a carpeted hall. She hardly noticed her surroundings. Photos hung on the wall. Fields and forests, she guessed, but out of focus, weird pastel colors. Some upper-class fad.
The exec opened another door.
A dozen people sat at blank computer terminals, waiting. One machine remained free.
"Right there," the exec said. "Get settled, and we can start."
Jannine didn't recognize anyone in the room.
Everyone else is new, she thought. They're applying to work on the substrate, and there's a new test to get the job. What did I do to make them think I should have to take it? Somebody must have noticed something. Now I'm screwed.