Les Grands Chantiers (Wattys 2022)

12. Crescent Rising

The Society of Contemporary Art Museum was a faux-Daniel Libeskind explosion of glass, concrete, and aluminium cladding, tacked incongrously onto the back of the Old Pack House. Ten years since it had unveiled its looks still split Corvites down the middle. Personally, Brendan thought it was very nicely detailed, although he had somewhat less complimentary views about the whole that the nicely detailed parts added up to. 

Brendan knew he was taking a risk. But he tried not to think about it as he flashed his media pass at the security guard and went to locate Adrian. He was just here to stand on the periphery and observe things. Hopefully they had not even considered the eventuality that he would be in the crowd. He didn't need to get close to anyone. As long as he wasn't recognised by anyone he would be fine. If anyone did work out who he was he would have to figure things out there and then, but he tried not to think about it. That had worked surprisingly well for him in the past, and there was no reason for him to think it wouldn't tonight. 

The meeting was being held in a mezzanine, a rhomboid of concrete suspended on rather dainty steel cables above the foyer. At least, that was where the second tier of the guest list had been allocated. The real action was taking place on another rhomboid suspended by more dainty steel cables where workers were fiddling with the microphone on a podium that had been set up. Behind, more workers were fiddling with a huge projector screen. 

On yet another suspended rhomboid several metres higher, the VIPs were filtering in via a very delicate glass staircase. All of the top brass was here. Some of the faces looked familiar from the TV news, but he didn't know the names, except for George and Cameron. Halberstam and the other school officials were keeping them on their toes. He could tell that some of them were already looking rather removed from the setting. You could see the pills taking effect in real time.

No doubt Halberstam and the others had deliberately chosen this evening strategically; it couldn't have been the first choice. Still, the Alphas had no choice but to submit to the whims of the godless wolves who ran this place. A hostess was offering pills to any guests who had forgotten theirs. Hopefully they would be too busy keeping their guests and benefactors from soiling themselves to be vetting the guest list too thoroughly. 

Keeping to the other side of the stage, Brendan pressed against the polished stainless steel railing, brushing past unfamiliar faces. he felt exposed here, high above the floor. He dared himself to look down. He finally found Adrian where he'd said he would be, next to the table. He was with someone he didn't recognise. 

"This is Graydon." Adrian introduced the newcomer. "He teaches English at Carleton. He's new, like me." 

Brendan shook the proffered hand with no hesitation. He was about the same age, well-dressed, cleanly shaved. If he was a new recruit he was most likely safe. Most of his teachers at Carleton had had no idea of what was going on behind the scenes. There was no indication that this had changed. As long as he did his best to stay in the margins, away from the top brass, he would be fine. 

All eyes were on the other mezzanine level. Some of the alphas were clearly discomforted and sitting down; others were taking it better. It was all a bit comical. You could sense the tension as people struggled to suppress their sniggers on top of fighting the side-effects of their own medication. You could pick out the ones that had been educated over in the Republic, as they were mostly functioning as normal, walking around, greeting the other guests, chatting up a storm with the school administration. 

Brendan took the opportunity to scan the crowd for any familiar faces. He was expecting at least a few, but there was nobody he had known, just people he had known of. A part of him had wanted to be recognised, despite the obvious risk this would bring. A small consolation for the blood, sweat and tears he had given to that institution. He told himself it was safer this way. Shielding oneself from the exposure of cameras was easy. Shielding from wolf eyes, on the other hand, was a different story.