03: Between the Lines

  Evelyn

  John meets Evelyn the next morning outside of her room at 5:30 sharp. Always punctual, never a minute late. He wears his usual smile, holds a thermos of coffee in one hand, and his datapad under his arm. His blue eyes sparkle with that smugness Evelyn has come to enjoy. It means he’s been up to something.

  "Well?" Evelyn leads, taking the thermos from John’s outstretched hand and holding it up to her nose as she closes the door to her apartment behind her. “What have you discovered?"

  “You know why she gets under your skin, don’t you?”

  “She doesn’t,” Evelyn lies.

  “Of course not.” John smiles. “It has nothing to do with the fact that she actually got someone to listen. That she got justice where you failed.”

  Failed.

  Evelyn festers silently for a moment before taking a sip of her coffee. “She got lucky.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe she just had the right pedigree– Earth-born, top of her class, grieving but composed. Just enough tragedy to be compelling, but not enough to be discredited.”

  “You sound like you admire her.”

  “I think you do.” John says, his smile fading. “But anyway, Dr. Harper might not be as difficult of a nut to crack as we anticipated."

  Evelyn sips at her coffee again. "What makes you say that?"

  I ran into her and her hired muscle at the bar last night after I left the room.

  Evelyn raises an eyebrow. "We both know you’re good, John. But–"

  "No, no," John shakes his head with a blushing smile, "You’ve always been better at this part of the job than I."

  "I see. Well, men are simple creatures." Evelyn reaches over and curls the fingers around his tie, tugging suggestively.

  "Let’s just say I don’t think you’ll have much trouble with the doctor, either."

  Evelyn lets go of his tie. "Good to know."

  John readjusts the collar of his shirt as the pair board the elevator. "Honestly, I’m just relieved I don’t have to be the one to… you know." John takes the tablet out from under his arm and raps the screen with his fingers. "You’re more her type, anyway. I can’t stand the…” His voice trails off.

  "Coercion?" Evelyn offers.

  "I was going to say ‘lying’, or ‘manipulation’." His eyes scan the datapad until his eyes go wide. "Oh boy. Change of plans: Shaw and Director Cruz are waiting in a vehicle for you downstairs."

  "Ugh, just what I need." Evelyn lets her head loll backwards. "It’s too early for this shit."

  "Can I meet you at the conference?" John asks as the door to the elevator opens.

  "No, you and I still need to cover your findings on Doctor Harper. And besides, I’ll need you to sit between me and that lecherous oaf, Cruz."

  "Say no more."

  ***

  Allison

  Allison sits alone on a weathered wooden bench, watching the budding branches of cherry blossoms sway gently in the cool morning breeze, the trees ready to bloom in earnest. She checks the time on her datapad again and absently fingers the teardrop sapphire pendant at her neck, trapped in the circular thoughts that had plagued her for weeks.

  Olivia's requests have grown increasingly direct, and with each conversation, the thought of public scrutiny, questions about her transition, and the potential abandonment of her research weighs heavily on her mind.

  She catches sight of Olivia approaching from the east path, her purposeful, confident gait unmistakable even from a distance. Elegant as always in her navy pantsuit, flanked on either side by her usual detail, Olivia raises a hand in greeting. Allison straightens her posture and takes a steadying breath.

  "So glad you could make time for me," Olivia says with a smile as soon as she’s in earshot.

  Allison tucks her datapad into her handbag and stands up, tugging at the edges of her jacket.

  Olivia extends her arm for an embrace. "So good to see you."

  "Likewise, Olivia."

  It’s impossible not to take in the scent of sandalwood and lavender whenever Allison is in the presence of Olivia. It’s as though she drowned herself, and her office, in perfume the moment her father stepped down, if only to drown out the smell of cheap incense he was so inexplicably fond of. Allison doesn’t dislike the smell. In fact she finds it rather nostalgic, if not enjoys it altogether, even if it does come off a bit strong.

  "It’s so hard to find the time to get together these days," Olivia starts, holding Allison at arm’s length, "what with you leading the Drive Technology department."

  "Oh come on," Allison replies, sitting down on the bench again. "We both know why you’re here."

  "What?" Olivia throws her arms up and sits down next to Allison. "Can’t I want to spend time with you? Like the old days?"

  "You can want to, but we both know neither of us have time for that."

  Olivia chuckles. "I guess you’re right." A moment of silence hangs between the two women, both clinging to a fading memory of a simpler time. "You really did something amazing, Allison."

  "We both did. It was in no small part to your connections that any of our restructuring was even possible. They all laughed at us." Allison’s smile spreads to Olivia’s face. "You remember the first meeting with the board?"

  Olivia laughs, a bright, mirthful sound. "Oh, they weren’t ready for bad numbers."

  "Not that bad!"

  "When you nailed them to the wall at the public hearing, I thought my father was going to have a heart attack. You were twenty-three and backed the Federation into a corner. I don’t think they’ve forgiven you since.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “They certainly haven’t,” Allison admits. “And now you want me to run for office with you? Are you insane?”

  Olivia ignores her. "Nobody was ready for me to dissolve the board and restructure StellarCorp into a Public Benefit Corporation. I will never forget the look on their faces. We really did stick it to those greedy bastards, didn’t we?"

  "We did. But Harper didn’t live to see it," Allison adds quietly, her voice barely more than a breath. "He;s the reason I did all of it. And if he were here now, I think he’d tell me…” She trails off, her eyes falling to her lap. “I don’t know. Maybe he’d tell me to keep going. Maybe he’d tell me to stop.” She looks back up at Olivia. “Do you really think you can make a difference?"

  Olivia sighs with a knowing nod, crossing her legs and looking out across the river. "I do. What we built at StellarCorp isn't just a company, Allison– it's proof that another way is possible." Olivia's voice takes on the passionate edge Allison remembers from their earliest reform discussions. "The Federation is stagnating under all this corporate influence, with wealth concentration worse than before the Mars expansion. People are suffering while the same corporate structures that fought us tooth and nail keep tightening their grip."

  She turns to face Allison directly. "We proved it could work on one corporate level. Now we need to scale it. But I'm still a CEO– no matter how reformed StellarCorp is, I still represent corporate interests to most voters. That's why I need you."

  "Olivia–"

  "You're the scientist who took down the establishment. The woman who stood in front of the most powerful executives in the world and told them they were responsible for the deaths they tried to cover up. Your credibility with the public is unimpeachable." Olivia's hand finds Allison's. "I understand your concerns about your research, about public scrutiny. But think about how many lives we could improve if we brought our model Federation-wide."

  "I don’t know that it would be enough," Allison protests weakly.

  Olivia’s voice softens. "I respect whatever choice you make. But Allison, we have an opportunity here that might never come again. The people who've been left behind by the system– they deserve what we're capable of giving them. Just like we gave it to StellarCorp employees. To your family."

  The first cherry blossom petal drifts down between them, landing on the bench between them. Olivia looks at it, then back at Allison with a small smile.

  "I'm not asking you to decide today. Just... promise me you'll actually consider it? Not just the costs to you, but what it could mean for everyone else. And remember… I’ll be with you every step of the way."

  ***

  Evelyn

  The hovercar descends, the opulence of polished chrome and tinted windows giving way to a landscape marred by neglect. Rust eats at the skeletal remains of buildings, and the air hangs heavy with a metallic tang that stings Evelyn’s nose. Children with hollow eyes stare listlessly from broken windows and the doorless thresholds of what can barely pass for shelter.

  They step out of the vehicle to walk beside a decrepit bridge, the four of them standing out against the crumbling backdrop like jewels in mud. Shaw, in his immaculate graphene suit, surveys the scene with unreadable eyes. Next to Evelyn, John Starling hovers anxiously but attentively, his datapad clutched to his chest. Cruz paces several meters away, making no attempt to hide his discomfort, bringing a handkerchief to his nose. Evelyn watches them all, wondering why the CEO of the Federation's most powerful corporation insisted on this personal tour of Tokyo’s most destitute quadrant. Shaw has been silent during most of the journey, but now his attention shifts to her with a sudden, laser-like focus.

  “Mr. Starling,” Shaw says. “Could you please fetch my datapad from the transport? Don’t return without it.”

  “Yes, sir,” John stammers. “Right away, sir.”

  “You get a kick out of ordering my assistant around, don’t you?’

  “Pleasantries aside, doctor…” Shaw carefully places a hand on her shoulder, gently facing her toward where Cruz stands. “What do you think drives men like him?”

  Evelyn stares at Cruz for a moment. His short, fat legs are straighter than Evelyn has ever seen before, as though the mere thought of being taller might free him from the stench of intermingled refuse that permeates the air around them.

  “Wealth,” Evelyn states matter-of-factly. “Power.”

  “Precisely.” Shaw smiles. “I often wonder, what it’s like to be driven by such basic desires. But you, Evelyn…” He turns to her, his hand falling from her shoulder. “What drives you?”

  Is this some kind of test?

  “Justice.” Evelyn says after a pause, and Shaw’s lips tighten with a nod.

  “A noble endeavor indeed,” he says, surveying the dilapidated scene around them. “Is this justice?”

  “No.”

  “What else drives you?”

  “Progress.”

  “There it is,” he says with a snap of his fingers. “Progress.” He looks up at the smog-filled sky. “You want to help these people, do you not?”

  Evelyn nods.

  “So do I,” Shaw continues. “Under the status quo– under the Federation, progress is built on the backs of suffering. It’s how it always has been, and how it always will be if something doesn’t change. Which brings me to my next question.”

  So it is a test.

  “What do you make of Olivia Prescott’s candidacy?”

  Evelyn considers for a moment before saying, “There’s nothing I can say here. Either I choose to berate Olivia and her policies, and you tell me I’m naive and underestimating her potential. Or, I tell you she’s dangerous and her ideas have merit, and you question my loyalty.”

  “I’m not so cruel,” Shaw says with a laugh. His eyes fall from the sky back to her. “What if I told you she’s right?” His words hang in the stale air. “That the Federation is broken beyond conventional repair?”

  Evelyn's brow furrows. "Just three days ago, you called her candidacy a direct threat to NovaTech's interests."

  Shaw takes a measured breath, stepping around a pile of discarded machinery. "It is. But not for the reasons most of the board believes." His voice drops, becoming almost confessional. "Prescott is dangerous precisely because she's reasonable. Her so-called 'reform' preserves the fundamental flaws in the system while appearing progressive. And worse, people believe it works. If she implements her policies Federation-wide, they'll simply institutionalize inequality under a more palatable name. Her so-called ‘reform’ doesn’t go nearly far enough.

  "StellarCorp's model creates an illusion of change while maintaining the core power structures of the Federation," he adds. "It's a pressure valve, not a solution. And it will draw power away from Corporations. But that money won’t go to the people. It will funnel directly into the military arm of the Federation.” He gestures toward a mother scavenging through refuse, a child clinging to her leg. “The boot on their neck will only change color. Look around you, Evelyn. These people don't need incremental reform. They need transformation. Prescott's model would take generations to reach them, if ever. By then, how many more lives will be lost? How many more children raised in squalor?"

  "You’re right,” Evelyn says softly, watching the mother and child scavenge. “If reform worked, they wouldn’t be digging through the trash. I suppose you have an alternative?"

  "Something more... decisive." Shaw's gaze is steady, evaluating her reaction. "Something that addresses the root cause of this cancer, not just the symptoms."

  Evelyn meets his stare. "You're talking about dismantling the entire system."

  "I'm talking about replacing it with something better." Shaw's voice remains calm, but there's a fervor beneath it that Evelyn hasn't heard before. "Something built with justice and progress at its foundation, not merely as marketing slogans."

  The implications settle over Evelyn like the layer of soot and grime that covers every inch of their surroundings. She understands now– this isn't just a test of her loyalty. He’s probing her, but for what?

  “I’ve learned one thing, Ben. You can’t build a better future by begging the old guard to move. You have to build it in spite of them.”

  “Well said,” Shaw replies as John’s footsteps approach from behind them. He returns empty handed, his eyes darting between Evelyn and Shaw, sensing the altered atmosphere.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” John says sheepishly. “I couldn’t find the datapad.”

  “That’s quite alright, Mr. Starling. I must have left it at the hotel.” Shaw turns back to Evelyn. “We should continue this conversation elsewhere. These aren't matters for open air." He looks in Cruz’s direction and raises his voice, “Director Cruz. We’re leaving.”

  Evelyn never saw Cruz look so relieved. As they turn back toward the transport, she casts one last look at the broken landscape. For the first time since her parents' death, she feels something beyond her personal vendetta stirring– Shaw’s vision of change is on a scale she'd never considered. If she plays her cards right, she might just be able to be a part of it.

  “Not a moment too soon,” Cruz says, revulsion dripping on every word. He turns as the door closes behind them, tossing a pocket full of coins onto the dusty ground. Evelyn can barely make out the movement of people scampering towards the meager offering as the door clicks shut. Cruz’s eyes light up with something dark and sardonic. “I shouldn’t have even bothered. They’re probably killing each other over it as we speak.”

  Hollow words from a hollow man.

  Shaw’s eyes watch Cruz with the kind of visceral disdain that isn't learned but recognized–-something primeval identifying its natural enemy.