Molly - Part 4

Chapter 7

The machine was merciful, squashing the young woman beneath a metal palm, making sure its job was done then chittering, almost as if it were laughing.

"Sector Four is clear."

The control room was made mostly of levels. Fourty, including the very top level where the syncro was located. Jeff had only been up there once. He didn't exactly want to relive the experience anytime soon.

The machine slunk away on the screen, then the feed was cut.

Jeff slapped the side of the metal frame.

"Shit."

"You'll break it if you do that," Sandra said. She took out the plug running into her neck, leaving behind an imprint that slowly went away as the tissue was reformed.

"Piece of junk never works."

"The job is over--the girl was taken care of."

"I just wanted to make sure."

Sandra rolled her eyes, coming up alongside Jeff's chair and spinning it so he was looking at her. Behind her a thousand reporters were hooked into similar chairs. The coords which slipped into their necks were everywhere; on the floors, the ceilings.

"What's wrong? You're the one usually talking me down after missions."

Jeff sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"You need rest."

"I need a vacation, but the city never sleeps, yeah?"

"Yeah. Hey look, I'm going to this thing."

Jeff frowned at Sandra.

"Don't be like that. It's just something Monica--"

He almost rolled his eyes, then thought better of it.

"...it's just something Monica wanted to do. Check out one of those churches."

"Sandra, c'mon."

"I don't know, Jeff. I...we've done a lot here. I get it--it's our job, but...it's just nice to know that there's some meaning behind all of it, you know?"

Jeff did know. It kept him up at night sometimes. In the dead of winter--in the heat.

"Well, you have fun listening to crazy people. I'm going home."

He got up and slipped on his jacket. Too many pockets--made him look like one of the vagrants. Not that Jeff minded; that was the style. To look like the people they were throwing into unmarked prisons.

"I don't like it any more than you do, Sandra. I've read the reports on the mainframe. I--"

One of the big doors at the base of the stadium rolled open, a few men in suits walking through the center. Jeff noticed Mr. Steely. All smiles. Not something any of the workers were used to.

"Think he's gonna sell?" Sandra asked.

"Steely's never had a money-problem. A girl-problem, sure. Maybe even a guy problem."

"Jeff."

"I'm sorry--I'm out of here. Look, just...please be careful. I don't like any of that shit--you know that."

"I will."

She came close, then gripped his hand, taking her handbag and jacket and heading over to the elevator. A few sullen-looking reports were waiting, nodding at Sandra who nodded back curtly, the door opening and the trio slipping down to base-level.