"And then, Charlotte?" asked Rowan.
"Kind of," I said. "See, Suki did have a best friend, Emily Redden. They did everything together unless Suki was spending time with me. Emily was in class one, my class, but she got deported in the seventh grade. Suki blamed me for Emily's deportation."
"What? Why?"
"Partly, the Charlatans' influence. And, partly, because Suki believed in me more than she should have. Since I had helped her so much in school, she truly thought that I could teach anyone anything. So, when Emily was deported, Suki told me that if I had really wanted Emily to stay on Alpha, I could have saved her."
Suddenly, my throat went tight. Frustrated with my inability to remain calm for a simple conversation, I fought to regain my composure.
"Did you believe her?" Rowan's eyes searched mine, and I was amazed at his discernment. I didn’t have the courage or perception to ask questions the way he did.
"I'm still trying to figure that out," I said, discreetly wiping my eye. "I never wanted anybody to be deported, and I still don't."
"Well, for what it's worth, I don't think deportation is your fault. It's a law, and the survivors are victims as much as the others."
Rowan's attempt to comfort me made me feel a little warmer inside.
"Thank you. So, does that answer your question?"
He nodded. "Thank you for telling me all of this."
"I'm glad you know about it now," I said, and I truly meant it.
For the second time, the waiter asked if we'd like the bill. Rowan immediately answered, telling the waiter to go ahead and charge it to his account.
The waiter nodded and left before I realized what had happened.
"Rowan, I could have paid for my half."
He laughed. "Jada, I'm a millionaire now. I could pay for a thousand taco lunches. Besides, it's the least I can do to make up for prying so much."
I smiled gently. "You weren't prying, but thank you."
Within a few minutes, we left and parted ways. I wasn't sure whether or not Rowan would want to spend more time with me, but at the very least I believed he enjoyed himself and had found some answers.
∆∆∆
Late that night, I stayed up to gather the necessary items in my reconnaissance pack. I'd accomplished reconnaissance missions many times when I was younger, but never for something as important as this.
And never alone.
Shaking off discouraging thoughts of what could go wrong, I double-checked my supplies.
Panel access card, check. Flashlight, check. Flash drive to bypass computer security, an excuse in case I was caught, and shoes that would allow me to run quietly, check.
A sudden flare of nerves shook me.
Taking in a deep breath and letting it out, I checked my watch. 1:48.
I was hoping to be finished and back in my dormitory by 4:00. That gave me a little over two hours.
Just enough time, I figured. There'd be a lot of running, but I could manage.
1:50. Time to go.
Shouldering my knapsack and slipping out of my dorm quietly, I started, slowly at first, down the hallways leading to the library.
I always loved Alpha at night. Station management had a strict lights-out policy beginning at eleven o'clock almost every night, so the station was dark, cool, and quiet. They said that it would discourage older students and adults from staying out too late, thus compromising their brain function the next day. Most students resented the policy. I loved it. I think they turned the air conditioning down, too, to help us all sleep comfortably, and that explained why it felt cooler.
After a few moments of warming up, I was able to sprint down the hallways without fear of being spotted by the security cameras.
Earlier that night, I accessed the remote camera disruptor program I’d developed and stored on my laptop. Using it, I was able to put each camera along my route on a timer, set to stop recording for five minutes, each at their assigned times. In the period of time the cameras stopped recording, they would simply replay frames from the previous five minutes. That way, it wouldn't seem like they were suspiciously powering off.
As I ran, I saw a tiny red light on the underside of each camera, the signal that they weren't recording.
Sprinting along the path I knew by heart, even in the dark, I entered the library and quickly made my way across it.
The three student entrances to the library were open-access, meaning there weren't any checkpoints at the thresholds. The adult entrances, however, were different.
It was understood that adults wouldn't cross over to the students' side of Alpha, but management wasn't so trusting of the students. Three checkpoints were created to discourage students from accessing the adult sections, and only cards enabled with special access codes could pass those checkpoints.
Station security had released a statement reporting that those checkpoints prevented students from accessing the adult sections. For me, it was more of an obstacle than a prevention.
Swiping my specially programmed panel access card across the Workspace checkpoint panel, I grinned, a sudden rush of exhilaration charging through me. It had been a long time since I'd done that.
Double-checking all of the cameras around me for red lights on their undersides, I watched as the checkpoint panel slid open, granting me access to its insides.
A miniature prism lay inside the checkpoint panel. To accomplish my goal, only two short commands were necessary.
deny log count: 1
Those codes would stop the panel from logging my card swipe. So, if anyone were to review the checkpoint log, they wouldn't be able to tell that I had gone through.
timer: 5s erase all
That completely erased all actions performed in the last five seconds. No one would ever know about my previously entered deny log command.
Satisfied that I was untraceable, I swiped my access card and ran through the checkpoint.
I tried to remember the sequence of turns that I memorized from my prism earlier. Right, right, left. Left? No, right.
I passed fascinating printeries, bakeries, laboratories, along with countless other workspaces, but I didn't even have time to look. Sensing the need to stay focused on my goal, I just kept running. My ponytail swished behind me, my muscles burned, and I loved every second of it.
Finally, I reached my destination. It was dark, but my eyes had adjusted enough to make out the words over the door. File Repository.
I let out a deep breath, energized yet exhausted from all the running.
Any and all files could be accessed from the file repository. The file clerks employed there cared for every data file on Alpha, terabytes upon terabytes of documents and records.
As I slipped through the door and looked around, I saw hundreds of offices fitted into the web of corridors that lay before me. A remnant of a book read long ago came to mind, and I remembered that each file clerk received their own office. The number 758 floated through my consciousness.
Spotting office number eight, I saw a red light high on the wall. I hurried inside and shut the door.
While I powered on the computer and plugged in my flash drive, intense anxiety and impatience coursed through me. If I was caught, I could wave goodbye to my privilege of being Alpha’s Youth Ambassador.
Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I got to work as the computer finally completed the boot process.