Black Marion

18

August, 2578.

The midday glitter of the Skyworld was radiant from the upper floors of CyberSec. Idle in the empty corridor, Alex pressed her fingertip to the glass, smearing a dust speck. She swept over tower tips, interrupted the flights of refined falcons. Summertime, temperature was always disjointed at windows, where it was caught between the heat of the sun and the overcompensating cold of the air conditioners.

"Ms. Myeong?"

She turned toward her name. A man at the end of the hall had emerged from his office, as tailored as ever. With a handsome smile, the director of the department brandished his door.

"Sorry about the wait. Come in."

So she did. Moments later, she was seated across a polished black desk. A plaque upon it read Willian Demari, Director of Development. It was fresh, not even a year old, and yet it already sported a chip in the upper left corner. Curious. But irrelevant.

Folding her hands over her lap, Alex waited for the director to take his seat. Demari reclined with a sigh, forecasting that the conversation was not about to go as Alex had hoped it would.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Your preference," said Alex.

The director nodded. "Okay. I have your test results. The good news is that you didn't fail."

Alex turned her gaze toward the window. "I'm not cleared yet."

"No, I'm afraid not."

They were speaking of the team selection for the newest priority project—System Architecture 21. A hike in System-related security breaches over the past two years had prompted the department to assemble a team with a new objective, and Alex had been invited for her recent work with CyberSec Development and her senior year research on advanced encryption. But the screening process was not a simple matter of aptitude. This morning, Alex had taken a battery of psychological assessments spanning a total of four hours. She thought she had prepared well enough to cheat them—apparently, she was wrong.

"The System's a delicate State matter," said Demari. "It's imperative that we get our best architects on the new project. That's you, Ms. Myeong—experience aside, your work's been top tier. But your mental evaluation is too borderline for me to give you the clean pass."

Alex rubbed her temple in frustration. "Borderline? You make it sound like I'm crazy."

"Not at all. The criteria for tier one access is...stringent and particular, to say the least, especially for someone of your particular background. It has nothing to do with your sanity."

Her background. Her association with the Ground. Of course, she had expected this to come up.

"Then what do I need to do?"

"I don't have the authority to sanction your participation in SA21. So I referred you and your screening results to the people who do." The director typed at his screen. A moment later, Alex's wrist buzzed with an incoming conn message. "I just forwarded you the location you'll be meeting at. That'll be six in the evening, today. He'll ask you a few questions and make a final call."

"He?"

"Vaughn Scio."

Alex knew that name. A Regent—a particular Regent. Any Regent was the worst kind of person to examine her psyche—too dangerous, too sharp, and too idealistically oppositional. But Vaughn Scio? That was the name her father had given her years ago. The one who'd pardoned Haneul—the thank you note she'd never sent.