Blind Lake

“It happens,” Charlie said. “You remember last winter—”

“This one’s a little unusual. It settled down, but we’re doing a systems check.”

“Still making data?”

“Oh, yeah, nothing bad, just a blip, but… you know.”

He understood. The Eye and all its interrelated systems hovered perpetually on the brink of chaos. Like a harnessed wild animal, what the Eye needed was not maintenance so much as grooming and reassurance. In its complexity and unpredictability, it was very nearly a living thing. Those who understood that — and A

“You want to stick around, lend a hand?”

Yes, he did, but A

“Tell Boomer hello for me.” She was clearly anxious to get back to work.

“Will do. Anything I can get you?”

“Not unless you have a spare phone. Abe’s out on the coast again.” Abe was A

“You want to borrow mine?”

“No, not really; I tried Tommy Gupta’s; his didn’t work either. Something wrong with the satellites, I guess.”

Strange, Charlie thought, how everything seemed to have gone just slightly askew tonight.

For the fifth time in the last hour, Sue Sampel told her boss she hadn’t been able to put his call through to the Department of Energy in Washington. Each time, Ray looked at her as if she had personally fucked up the system.

She was working way late, and so, it seemed, was everybody else in Hubble Plaza. Something was up. Sue couldn’t figure out what. She was Ray Scutter’s executive assistant, but Ray (typically) hadn’t shared any information with her. All she knew was that he wanted to talk to D.C., and the telecoms weren’t cooperating.

Obviously it wasn’t Sue’s fault — she knew how to punch a number, for God’s sake — but that didn’t prevent Ray from glaring at her every time he asked. And Ray Scutter packed a killer glare. Big eyes with pinpoint pupils, bushy eyebrows, flecks of gray in his goatee… she had once thought he might be handsome, if not for his receding chin and slightly pouchy cheeks. But she didn’t entertain that thought anymore. What was the expression? Handsome is as handsome does. Ray didn’t do handsome.

He turned away from her desk and stalked back to his i

Y3, Sue thought wearily. It had become her mantra in the months she’d been working for Ray Scutter. Y3: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ray was surrounded by incompetents. Ray was being ignored by the research staff. Ray was thwarted at every turn. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Once more, for good measure, she attempted the Washington co

Sue might have been worried if she’d been a little less tired. But it was probably nothing. All she wanted to do right now was get back to her apartment and peel off her shoes. Microwave her di

The terminal buzzed again — according to the screen a

“Your boss around?”

“Present but not keen to be disturbed. Is this urgent?”

“Well, yeah, kind of. I’ve got three journalists here and nowhere to put them.”

“So book a motel.”

“Very fu

“Nobody penciled this into your calendar?”

“Don’t be obtuse, Sue. Obviously, they ought to be sleeping in the guest quarters in the Visitor Center — but Perso

“Day workers?”

“Duh! Because the buses can’t get out to Constance.”

“The buses can’t get out?”

“Have you been in an isolation booth the last couple of hours? The road’s closed at the gatehouse. No traffic in or out. We’re in total lockdown.”

“Since when?”

“Roughly sunset.”

“How come?”

“Who knows? Either a plausible security threat or another drill. Everybody’s guessing it’ll be sorted out by morning. But in the meantime I have to billet these folks somewhere.”

Ray Scutter’s reaction to the problem would be more indignant fuming, certainly nothing helpful. Sue thought about it. “Maybe you could call Site Management and see if they’ll open up the gym in the rec center. Put in some cots for the night. How’s that sound?”

“Fucking brilliant,” Ari said. “Should have thought of it myself.”

“If you need authority, cite mine.”

“You’re a gem. Wish I could hire you away from Ray.”

So do I, Sue thought.

Sue stood and stretched. She walked to the window and parted the vertical blinds. Beyond the roofs of the worker housing and the darkness of the undeveloped grassland she could just make out the road to Constance, the lights of emergency vehicles pulsing eerily by the south gate.

Marguerite Hauser thanked whatever benevolent fate it was that had put her into a town house (even if it was one of the smaller, older units) on the northeastern side of the Blind Lake campus, as far as possible from her ex-husband Ray. There was something reassuring about that ten-minute drive as she took Tess home, closing space behind her like a drawbridge over a moat.

Tess, as usual, was quiet during the ride — maybe a little quieter than usual. When they picked up chicken sandwiches at the drive-through outlet in the commercial strip, Tess was indifferent to the menu. Back home, Marguerite carried the food and Tess hauled her tote bag inside. “Is the video working?” Tess asked listlessly.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Wasn’t working at Daddy’s house.”

“Check and see. I’ll put the food on plates.”

Eating in front of the video panel was still a novelty for Tess. It was a habit Ray had not permitted. Ray had insisted on eating at the table: “family time,” inevitably dominated by Ray’s daily catalogue of complaints. Frankly, Marguerite thought, the downloads were better company. The old movies especially. Tess liked the black-and-white ones best; she was fascinated by the antique automobiles and peculiar clothing. She’s a xenophile, Marguerite thought. Takes after me.

But Marguerite’s video panel proved as useless as Ray’s had presumably been, and they had to make do with whatever was in the house’s resident memory. They settled on a hundred-year-old Bob Hope comedy, My Favorite Brunette. Tess, who would ordinarily have been full of questions about the twentieth century and why everything looked like that, simply picked at her food and gazed at the screen.

Marguerite put a hand on her daughter’s forehead. “How do you feel, kiddo?”

“I’m not sick.”

“Just not hungry?”

“I guess.” Tess scooted closer, and Marguerite put an arm around her.

After di