All for One, Hubris for All

With our break just announced the room was lively again. I realized Steve was staring at me. He gave an obvious nod, and like a tractor beam I was pulled out into the hall with him, amongst a group of others.

“Walk with me, young friend,” Steve said jokingly, his baritone voice darkened by the years. At 54, he told me recently how he suddenly felt old this past winter. He doesn’t show it except for a head of silver hair, a few dark threads making a final stand. I’m eleven years his junior. He knows I’ve looked up to him like an older brother, for over half my life now, since a time when we were actually young.

“Gladly, old friend.” I replied. He gave me a subtle but warm smile. Steven Robertson’s presence has always felt large–and still does–average in build, he’s fit with broad shoulders but not a big man. His new KiK® water shoes are skinned all the way up, but it hadn't even rained today. He probably doesn’t want anyone smelling his feet. I laugh inside. Only a close friend would notice something so obvious.

We meandered into the dark open foyer, talking superficially about the last few days. The chatter in the hall masked our conversation. I stopped abruptly near the staircase when he asked me, “So, did you do a headcount?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you counted you’d notice the number is odd tonight.”

“What do you mean the number is odd? Who’s not here? What’s the number?”

“The number is 27. Old man Schiento couldn’t make it. Mike told me yesterday, his dad is now consumed by the illness–said he probably wouldn’t make it to the vote. I saw Haruki last week, we spoke via holoset. He didn’t look so good. It was brief, and he wouldn’t even hint at his position on the issue. But Mike said he has a sealed affidavit here tonight with his father’s vote— we’ll present it to the council later, when you’re done.”

“What does this mean? Will the HDC still vote tonight?”

“Oh yeah. His vote will get proxied in. We’ll see how it all plays out, but I expect a few objections, maybe a small minority if any. People want this vote to happen, no matter their stance.”

I could tell there’s more on his mind. He then asked me, “What else do you have, Sam? What’s the next half looking like?” Steve wants me to trade secrets.

We’re separated and far enough from the others, they’ve all congregated in the hallway. I was about to respond when our awkward silence was interrupted by a faint screeching sound, something jostled on the floor tiles above on the second floor loft, maybe a planter or trash can upstairs. We would’ve missed it had either of us been speaking, but the echo carried under the open ceiling where we stood.

I looked at Steve and he looked back from the corner of his eyes, then turned toward me with inquisition lining his forehead. I motioned an index finger to my lips with mutual understanding. We both directed our ears upward. We had the same feeling, why would someone be upstairs? We could see the balcony railing, and part of the landing. I made out a shadow moving around up there. Someone’s up on the lofted second floor above.

When I began tiptoeing toward the stairs to get a better look, Steve grabbed my arm and motioned me to follow him back the other way. We walked quickly and quietly along the far wall and down an opposite hallway, heading east toward the annex, making sure nobody saw us. Steve pointed to a door at the end of the dark corridor, an emergency stairwell. He opened it silently and let me in, then closed it behind us with utmost care. We ran up two half-flights and came to a landing with no more stairs, just a door with block letters declaring the obvious, SECOND FLOOR. I used the same discretion on this door as Steve had below, then followed him down an identical dark hallway leading back toward the vaulted foyer area.

We began hearing muffled voices as we slowly paced on quiet feet. As we came to a corner Steve held an open hand down by his side, fingers wide, then shook it once deliberately, signaling me to hold. We stopped to listen. I heard TJ Cooper, our security mastermind, talking secretively. Then a whispering Mike Schiento, and someone else.

I was staring at the ground when Steve put his face right up to my ear, “I think it’s Trevor Ashurst, and TJ!” he said with an intense whisper.

TJ was definitely around the corner, discreetly explaining something to someone. “I can do this with Bryant, no problem. Bryant leads alpha squad and we’ve already trained on this.”

“How many?”

“It’ll just be the two of us.”

I could hear the eldest Ashurst trying to keep his large voice under control, “I want you to make it happen, fifteen minutes into the next session.”

Then we both recognized Mike’s unlikely voice, “Wait, I don’t think it’s good. This won’t have the reaction you want. I’m telling you!”

My eyes popped open as I watched Steve go boldly around the corner exclaiming, “what the fuck is goin’ on here?” I stayed back, still hiding, feeling cowardly.

Trevor Ashurst buried his surprise, “Steve, what the hell. Were you hiding over there?”

Steve replied confidently, “Doesn’t matter. What the fuck are you hiding?”

Ashurst deflected, trying to diminish any import in the situation. He placed a bet with Steve, “why don’t you join us. We have something interesting planned.”

“It’s not a good idea I’m telling you,” Mike sought refuge in Steve’s unforeseen arrival.

There was a long pause. Then Steve demanded again, “TJ, tell me what’s goin’ on here.”

“We have a little operation ready to go that will hopefully swing any remaining votes our way.” TJ divulged.

“Oh yeah? Tell me more. I have open ears.” Steve takes a tone of sarcastic honesty. Sometimes it’s hard to say what you’ll get from him.

Mike butted in, “He’s not gonna like it. Steve will set you straight on this, TJ.”

At this moment I came out from around the corner. Attempting to hide my sheepish body language, I approached with fake confidence, and not all that well. I hoped Steve would back my arrival and ingratiate me.

Ashurst poked, “Have you been here this whole time too?! Welcome to the party Dr. Woodhouse.”

Mike Schiento replied, “Leave him out of it. Sam, you shouldn’t be here, go back downstairs.”

“No. He stays. No secrets here. Tell me the plan. What. The. Fuck. Are you guys discussing?” Steve is slowly gaining control. He can be absurdly convincing, nearing intimidation.

Trevor motioned TJ to open up and explain, “Listen, me and Bryant are going to stage a firefight outside, just a few rounds. You’ll definitely hear it from inside. We’re going to make a point. Ensure the HDC votes for the operation.”

Steve looked unconvinced, but wanting more.

TJ continued, “I’ll come running into the meeting, tell the HDC that I was just fired at, fucking drive-by style. We’ll say the damn gunkwicks shot at the night security for no reason. The story will go like this. They’d obviously not know anyone’s here tonight, since there’s no chance they’d risk antagonizing the council. That kind of shit would get their entire company contract revoked. No. They were just drunk and saw me and Bryant, the typical night security at City Hall doing rounds, nothing out of the ordinary. Thought they could take a cheap shot and get away with it. Probably just meant to scare us anyway. That’s the story. Alright?”

Ashurst added, “Yeah. And then what? Tell them.”

TJ followed up, “While I’m inside explaining what’s happened, Bryant will torch a staged SUV out front. Our supposed gunks would be obviously gone by the time council and y’all come out. Bryant will grab a partly burned jacket out of the vehicle. We have a fake comm card prepared with some garbled info about using the facility up on Mars Mountain, something about an old MWCD power supply, and some talk about conducting usage data mining. We’ll ‘find’ this in the jacket.” TJ accentuated this part with air quotes. “The damaged encryption slider will indicate it’s open format. Anyone will be able to pull it up with their own holoset.”

“You don’t think that’ll look a little convenient?” Mike rebuts.

“Doesn’t matter, it will confirm many unconfirmed suspicions. This will only hold up your little meeting by thirty–maybe forty minutes tops.” TJ makes a quip and continues, “By the time you’re all back inside, the fake comm card will be spreading around the group, it should sway any remaining undecided votes on the committee, and maybe even change a few.”

Trevor Ashurst tried to lobby, “This will shore up support with the folks who don’t think we should counter these damn gunks. At least most of them.”

For the first time I spoke up, “No! Even if people buy your staged bullshit, I don’t care. Let me do my job. I have a plan here. You don’t know this, not even you, Steve, but this presentation has a design.”

Steve asked me pointedly, “What are you saying, Sam?”

I replied, “We don’t have time to get into it. But let me say this. TJ, we’ve been working together for the last three weeks, don’t ruin this. Don’t use our research against me. We have the data needed to make a case here. You helped me with the damn report.”

TJ responded with an attitude I didn’t recognize and never saw throughout the last few weeks, “You said you’re gonna make a case without anyone knowing which side you’re on. I don’t know how that’s possible. I’ve been listening to your presentation from the hall. I honestly don’t think you have it in you.”

“We’re barely half way done. Give me a goddamn chance!”

“Give him a chance.” Mike backed me up.

Steve finished, “Trevor, TJ, listen to me. You let this meeting play out, it’s the least complicated action. Don’t let your hubris make the decision. And it looks like we just voted here. It’s three against two. You’re on notice. Both of you. Ok?”

Ashurst argued, “You’re not the damn chairman right now, Steve.”

I broke in one last time so we could put a stop to this insanity, “Let me finish this briefing! We’ll get the votes we want, or at least the ones we need. TJ, this bullshit is going to get someone hurt, or just derail our entire evening. It won’t play out how you want.”

“Listen to him,” Mike said. “He’s here for a reason.”

Trevor Ashurst could barely let it go. “I don’t know. But it’s late and we need to get back. You win for now. Hold off, TJ. And thanks for your dedication to this town and all of us.”

I was now eager to get back down and continue as planned. I started backing away. Steve shook his head and whispered something to Mike. Then out loud, “We all have similar accolades for you, TJ. But don’t ruin your trust with the committee.”

“Let’s go,” I said to the four of them.

We split up and made our way back down to ground-level from different sides and entered separately. People were waiting, chatting, none seemed impatient. But I felt awkward and exposed.

Some of the members were showing the hour on their faces, but nobody seemed suspicious. Or so I hoped; Beto scowled at Steve with a contemplative look, his head cocked when Trevor Ashurst entered last.

It didn’t matter. Nobody could ever guess the subversion we’d just mitigated. I’d grown to like TJ lately, but this was a surprise. He’s eager to do something about the gunkwick problem. And honestly, I was just as eager. It was time to focus and get back on track with the meeting.

Yuni raised her eyes at me from the back of the room, her brow furrowed. It seemed accusatory and I looked away, not giving up my thoughts or feelings about any of it. Not showing her my vivid recollection of the previous night when she came to interview me on record, and especially not the subversive anomaly I’d just witnessed up on the second floor.

I always feel like she can see right through me, but there’s a strange comfort in it, each and every time.