Mask (3 page)

J. Anderton looked up from his vid.  “Sir, research has something.  The
Temples of Syrinx
is a reference to a rather famous musical group from the turn of the last century.  They were called
Rush
.  Specifically, it is a song within a larger concept.  It refers to a totalitarian regime that suppresses all individual expression.”

Mister J. Lint glared at Garraty again.

J. Anderton’s face paled slightly.  “And Sir, the notes on the recording reference Ayn Rand.”

“Just an applicant?” J. Lint asked again.

R. Garraty dropped his face into his hands and studied his desk.  This was becoming a pattern.  He tried to maintain his composure, but he could feel his promotion slipping away.  Regardless of his external protestations, he was becoming frightfully alarmed that Mister J. Lint was correct; this was not just another applicant.

******

The lunch break had been canceled.  Every tech on the factory floor was chasing
Slipknot
through elusive threads comprised of thousands of proxy addresses.  R. Garraty knew he was out there somewhere amongst the servers and networks.  He was also sitting at a terminal access point somewhere, he must be.

Mister J. Lint sat in a side chair examining data on his vid and sending messages.  R. Garraty assumed he was sending them to his superiors.  He just sat there nervously watching him type.

J. Lint checked the time and tapped his vid display.

“I read your file you know,” J. Lint said without looking up, “now, I’m no re-education engineer, but I think I have you figured out.”

R. Garraty grinned uncomfortably.  “Figured out?  Really, Mister J. Lint, you should find a more beneficent use of your time.  Figured out, indeed.”

“You’ve had a great career, but you know, it’s interesting, you managed to sidestep a handful of very promising promotions throughout your career.  The average
Suit
doesn’t get that option.  It was clear, from your file and a little digging, that you managed to create choices for yourself, choices that didn’t make sense on the surface.”  He looked up.

R. Garraty didn’t like where this was going.  “I’m quite sure I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“You always managed to stay close to the Archives.  Why is that?”

“I don’t understand the question.”  R. Garraty realized he was beginning to sweat.

“Sure you do, but I think I know why.  You’re looking for something, maybe trying to regain something.”

R. Garraty decided he was not going to be interrogated in his own office for some imaginary offense.  He’d had enough, especially since J. Lint was dancing close to the real truth.

“Mister J. Lint, if you’ll excuse me, I really do have work to attend.  Perhaps you can wait outside?”

“I don’t think so.  Look Garraty,” J. Lint began.

“Presumptuously informal, don’t you think Mister J. Lint?”

“No.  We’re friends here, for now.  I know what you’ve been up to.  The thing I haven’t been able to figure out is exactly what you’re looking for, but I think I have a fairly good guess on the
why
of it.”

“I’m not looking for anything, I assure you.”

“You thought making Director of Information Control would give you Clearance, but that only gave you authority over the security of the Archives, no real access.  And now you’ve managed to work your way into the one position, well done I might add, that will give you access to everything.  Some might find that curiously — fortuitous.”

“I’ve worked hard, nothing curious about that.”

“Does the name Vivien mean anything to you?”

R. Garraty caught his breath.

“I mean, besides the fact that it’s your mother’s name.”

“This has gone on long enough Mister J. Lint.  I really must ask you to leave now.”

“No, Garraty, not just yet.  Tell me, did you ever forgive yourself?”

“For what?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, remember, I read your file and I already told you I did a little extra research.  You’re a researcher yourself and we are both hackers of some measure I’d say.  Sometimes facts are hidden in plain site, if you know how to find them.  One truth added to another truth and then you have a special truth, a hidden truth, a deeper truth that didn’t appear in a file.”

“There are no truths, there is only
The
truth, the Ministry’s Truth.  So what if I’ve spent some time in the Archives, what does that matter?  That was my job.  I’m sure that was in my File as well?”

“Yes, but it depends on what you were searching for, taking into account the time and all — right?”

“Do you really think repeating the same question in a different manner is going to provide you with an answer, considering that there isn’t one?”

“Oh, I’m not
that
clever.  But you were looking for something.  Your ID track is all over the place, constantly bumping up against your Clearance Threshold.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“It proves that you went to extremes to read a lot about Vivien Leigh.  She was the lead in
Gone with the Wind
I’m told, one of the illegal films that sent your parents to re-education.  Know what I think?  I think you watched it when you were a kid, maybe with your parents, maybe alone?”

“Nonsense.”

“I think you’ve been searching for Vivien your whole career.”

“Vivien Leigh?  That’s absurd.”  R. Garraty placed a hand on his knee to slow the tremor.

“No, V. Garraty, your mother.”

“She is dead.  You are quite out of line here.”

“I think you’re looking for your childhood, the one you lost when you first got noticed by the Ministry.”

R. Garraty paled, a dismissive laugh catching in his throat.

J. Lint had no such issue and laughed piteously; “You don’t even acknowledge the guilt, do you?  You are one twisted puppy, Garraty.  I’m not sure you’re stable enough to be trusted with the Archives.”

“Is that going in your report?’ R. Garraty asked defensively.

“Oh, there isn’t going to be any report.”

For the first time in many years, R. Garraty was speechless.

“You’ve been a naughty boy Garraty.  You’ve done things haven’t you?  To stay close to the Archives, I mean?  Things barely noticeable to the casual observer, but I’m not casual about such things.  I noticed you have a very interesting method for creating your opportunities, but then you have significant control over Tactical, don’t you?  You’re pretty good, I’ll give you that.  I had to connect quite a few dots before I found the murders.  That’s a truth too, isn’t it?  But it can be our little secret, we are friends after all.”

R. Garraty tried to remain still, but felt the panic rushing up and spreading.

“You know, your tenure as Curator would have been a disaster for everyone?  But your promotion did make for a timely distraction, just like this conversation. We couldn’t have you mucking about in the system just now.”

R. Garraty was confused, long dormant emotions, raw and urgent, pealed back years of rationalizations. 
Would have been?

“So, are you sorry you turned your parents in?” J. Lint asked quietly.

R. Garraty jumped to his feet and shrieked, “It was the Law!”

J. Lint watched moisture begin to gather in R. Garraty’s eyes as he trembled.

“You’re a piece of work Garraty.”

The phone on R. Garraty’s desk rang, cutting through the tension.

He flinched and J. Lint laughed and shook his head.

R. Garraty slowly picked up the receiver and answered with an unsteady tone, “Hello?”

“Director R. Garraty, what is the name of your Division?”

It was R. Deckard, the Second to the Minister himself.

“Pardon Sir?”

“Your division, its name, please?” the voice answered tersely.

“Information Control, Sir.”

“Why didn’t you control the goddamn information?” he shouted and then softer, “We had such high hopes for you, Garraty.”  And then the line went dead.

J. Lint raised an eyebrow.

They both turned to the factory floor as the closest Techs to the exterior walls were peering through the narrow windows; others were straining for a view, their long cable interfaces trailing behind them.

R. Garraty jumped up and raced to the windows, J. Lint grinned as he followed.  R. Garraty was shocked by what he saw.  All of the government information vids along the avenue, both large and small, had gone black and where repeating the same message over and over in large bold white letters:

WRITE

SING

PLAY

PAINT

EXPRESS

They stared at each other again; Mister J. Lint’s grin quickly became a sneer while R. Garraty swallowed hard.

They were interrupted when J. Anderton raced back into the office.  “We are identifying thousands of hacks, including the postings of independent and unapproved stories and music.”

R. Garraty looked to J. Lint, waiting on the authoritarian glare he knew was coming.  He felt small now in his presence, almost ashamed.  Everything was falling apart and the Archives, his love, suddenly felt further away than ever.

J. Anderton continued, “K. Winton. V. Smith. A. Potterley.  They aren’t even using tags; it’s as if they want to be discovered.”

The pattern was becoming a trend.  Trends became change.  And for the Ministry of Arts, change was very, very bad.  R. Garraty’s eyes began to glisten, he felt certain the courier would not be coming now.  But he was wrong.

He saw someone running out of the corner of his eye and turned.  The courier was racing down an aisle toward Room 101, his office.  The courier bounded up the steps and then leaned over, bracing himself against his knees.  With the promotion, he would be beyond Mister J. Lint’s reach — with the promotion, everything would be as it should — with the promotion, he could forget Mister J. Lint’s accusations and that nasty conversation.

Gasping for breathe, the courier asked, “Who is J. Lint?”

R. Garraty slumped.

J. Anderton was surprised, but not J. Lint.  He motioned with one finger and the courier asked for a signature and then handed over the manila envelope.

Mister J. Lint slipped a fingernail under one end and ran it along the edge, unsealing it.  He blew into the envelope and then turned it; the document fell out into his hand.  R. Garraty placed his hands together and stared at the document as though it were a Holy Relic.

Mister J. Lint read and then re-read it.  He looked up at the Director with satisfaction.

“The Ministry has had a change of heart; your promotion has been purged.”

R. Garraty gasped upon hearing the news verbalized, but feared there was more to come.

J. Lint continued slowly, “In fact, you have been demoted to Level Twelve Administration.”

J. Anderton began to reach out to support his boss and then thought better of it since he now greatly out-ranked him.

“So, there it is,” R. Garraty said almost to himself.

“Not quite,” Mister J. Lint continued, “You’ve also been assigned to two weeks re-education.  Maybe they’ll help you with the Vivien thing.”

R. Garraty’s eyes grew wide and his knees grew weak.  He leaned back onto his desk and held on to keep from collapsing.

“This isn’t the first hack of this type.  If you weren’t so busy gloating over becoming the next Curator, you’d have known that Garraty.  That’s why I was sent downstairs, this has been going on for over a day now.  We feared it might have been someone from inside, not to put too fine a point on it – we thought you might have had a hand in it.  That’s why I did the research.  But, after spending the day with you, I’m certain that something like this is quite beyond your capacity, although I’m sure the investigation will prove otherwise.  Regardless, we’ll get the old system back on track and everything will be just like it was before, for most of us anyway.”

R. Garraty felt broken.

“As a final note, I’ve been named interim Deputy Director,” he said as he handed the letter to J. Anderton.  And then he stepped close and whispered into R. Garraty’s ear, “You’re good, too good.  You might have saved it, but without you, the Ministry is no better off than Humpty Dumpty.”

Suddenly the truth, the real truth struck R. Garraty as a savage blow.  His pride and fear had blinded him and now he felt certain that it was much too late.  Lint’s ignored innuendos and subtle comments made everything clear now. 
Two truths added together reveal a hidden truth, a secret truth. 
His eyes narrowed and he stared at Lint with cold dead eyes as he backed away, his obsession replaced.

“Now,
Mister
R. Garraty, I’m afraid this is where our friendship ends.  What do you say we take a look in that desk of yours?” J. Lint smiled as he pulled out his sidearm.