Talking Man

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - TRAVER

Callie Vargas found Fletcher that night, after the day's proceedings. She tracked the captain to a hotel near the city center, in a penthouse suite on the eightieth floor.

"May I come in? I'm a reporter with Debunker Daily."

There was no response. She knew Fletcher was in there; Laffy had accessed the hotel's logs, which reported the room's occupant had not gone anywhere.

"Might I buy you a drink? Pick your brain? If nobody else wants to listen to what you have to say about Aurora, then consider me a breath of fresh air."

A moment later Callie heard padded footsteps coming toward the door. Then it opened. "I don't talk to reporters." The captain was still wearing her uniform from the day's trial, but it was wrinkled and unkempt, the usual pristine straightness of her hair disheveled. Callie thought she smelled a waft of alcohol.

"Then you don't have to talk. Just listen. And if you do say anything, it won't be on the record unless you want it to be."

In the penthouse living room Callie found herself staring out the window overlooking the whizzing, colorful lights of the city. Fletcher sat sternly behind her on the couch, a rum in her hand.

"Captain's salary, huh?" Callie waved her hand to indicate the room and view around her. "Here I thought I was doing alright for myself, but I've never been able to afford to so much as glance at a picture of a room like this."

"I don't enjoy small talk," Fletcher droned after swallowing a hearty gulp of liquor.

"Alright, I'll get to the point." Callie turned from the window and faced the Captain. "Do you know about the Debunker?"

"I don't give a shit. If I'm going to care you'll need to make me."

"Five billion people know what's going on inside the courtroom because of me. My transcriptions are the news that everyone hears, and I have been relating every testimony accurately and without bias. People are getting the straight truth. But when you started talking – when you started yelling – it struck a chord with me. I don't think the full truth is being served like it should be. I think you believe what you're saying, and I want to believe it to. But..." she reached into the pocket of her long coat and pulled out her handwritten notebook, "this isn't enough. I'm worried that sly Aurora snake-man is a little bit right; when people hear what you said in the court, some of them are going to think you're crazy."

"And?" Fletcher sipped down the last drops in her glass and her face remained stone. "What people think doesn't matter. I spend most of my time billions of miles away, and thank god for that."

"All I'm saying is that it doesn't look good. But hear me out. It doesn't look good, because Judge Yawnface only gave you a minute. It wasn't enough time. Now, I reach a billion people on a bad day. Yesterday it was more than five billion, tonight it might be more. I'll give you more than a minute. I'll give you an hour. Two hours. Whatever it takes. Make your case. Make it convincing. Make people want to believe you, like I want to believe you. Five billion people. If even half of those readers rant against the Corporation and demand answers, you can bet something is going to happen. Something's gonna have to happen."

Fletcher stared past Callie and out the window for a long moment. She stood up and refilled her glass, then returned to her seat.

Callie patiently waited for a response. She knew that to interrupt Fletcher's consideration now might be damaging.

"No."

"No?"

"No. Get out."

Gingerly Callie whipped out a calling card and left it on Fletcher's drink table. "If you change your mind, here is how to find me."