Dissolution

Chapter 15 - Bodies II

I said nothing. I watched her go. She looked energized, alive. I felt drained, older than she was. I wondered how long she had been waiting for an opportunity like this. I wondered whether this room and everything it stood for was an optical illusion, or just an illusion.

With nothing else to do, I approached the plaque. I didn't dare touch it. I didn't want to see those lines again, acting as if the secret to a human being could be bound up in a code. I didn't want to see the evidence of our cannibalism, even if I couldn't understand it. But I did trace the words engraved on the surface of the plaque, and I did wonder at everything that was captured there. Everything said and left unsaid. It was an odd epitaph. But one that told me more about the net worth of the First Shareholder of Unilox than any number or price might.

IN MEMORY OF JOHN

WHITTAKER CHARLES ANRON

AND HIS DREAM

- CLAUDIA CORAZON ANRON

That was all. I read the lines seventeen times before I turned away. Each time, I felt the weight of them pressing down on my shoulders. And then I sat down and stared at nothing. Behind my eyes, I could feel my brain struggling to process everything, failing, coming up with a single image again and again. That plaque, with its secret code inside meaningless letters. With the truth etched in faded words cut into the metal, outside for everyone to see.

I don't know how long I sat there. It must have been hours. At one point, exhaustion took over. So I leaned my head back against the twisting wall and slept.

I jerked awake moments—hours—later. I could hear Professor Cellowen's soft footsteps again, coming unerringly in my direction. I couldn't bring up the energy to stir, but it did jolt me back into my body. I was hungry again. Thirsty. And I needed to relieve myself. It made me marvel, that my body was so heedless of the danger it was in, that it so obliviously went on with the motions of living.

Professor Cellowen walked into the gap between the shelves. I started reluctantly forcing myself up to meet her, and suddenly the doors to the Library slammed open like a gunshot.

And then I heard them.

Slow, deliberate steps. Professor Cellowen heard them too. Her head darted around like a bird, and she stepped out of the alcove like she was shrugging her shoulders. I dropped down, one hand hugging my knees, the other fisted over my mouth for silence.

On the Library's carpeted floor, his muffled steps felt like warning whispers, a susurrus. I fixed on them, trembling, so intent on listening for their sound that when the professor spoke, I almost jumped.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely.

I saw two pairs of feet halt from the gap between the floor and the shelf. Black shoes. Corporate shoes.

"Professor," said a voice I recognized. Mr. Soft. It sounded far more ragged than it had inside my house last night, like he was the one who had fallen into the river. "Where is she?"

I heard the faint rustling of the professor's sleeves, and then her voice, with just the right amount of gentle outrage. "Excuse me? I don't know what you're . . ."

The voice cracked out like a whip. "Don't play games with us! We saw her come in on the cameras!"

I cursed myself silently. They had recognized me, then. Maybe it had taken them a few hours or some new facial-rec program, but they'd managed to identify me. I should never have stayed here this long. I should never have put Jake in danger. I . . .

"Gentlemen," she said firmly. "I may work in this building, but that doesn't mean I'm all-knowing or all-seeing. I presume you're looking for the . . ."

"Shut up," Mr. Sharp said flatly, and where Mr. Soft had been all bluster and noise, his voice was simple. Solid. A fact, like the existence of a weapon. "You've filed a writ for her. Did you think nobody would notice?"

Professor Cellowen was silent for a moment. And then I could almost hear her stooped back straighten. "Gentlemen," she said, "I have every right as a lawyer to file a writ for a client. And I also have something called professional privilege." Her voice cut like a wire now. "I am legally obligated not to tell you anything. Now, if you'd excuse me . . ."

There was a sharp, metallic sound. A crack. I almost didn't recognize what it was, and then too many hours of watching Ads caught up with me and I went cold. A gun. Somebody had just cocked a gun.

"How much?" Mr. Sharp asked.

Silence. I didn't know how she could do it. I imagined her staring down the barrel of the gun. Her voice, when it came, did not shake. "I am one of the leading professors of this institute," she said softly. "My license is worth two hundred thousand and fifty-seven credits. If you are already in trouble with ANRON for not returning one of its investments, you do not want to incur the further liability that my Corporation will claim from yours."

I was numb. I couldn't believe this was happening. Mr. Sharp took a step closer. It was like she hadn't even spoken. He enunciated each word like it was spittle. "How. Much?"

There was a rustle. I could almost imagine her tilting her head, staring back down the barrel. And then the professor said mildly, "I'm sorry, I'm not for sale."

There was a shot. It was loud. So loud. I'd watched Ads, but I'd never realized it was so loud in real life, the sound of death. My ears rang. I almost didn't hear her fall, hear her body hit the ground. But there was no escaping the black swirls of fabric in my thin line of vision, the long brown hair, and the blood creeping over the carpet.

"You idiot!" Mr. Soft raged. "What the hell did you do that for?"

Mr. Sharp was cold. "She wasn't going to tell us. And what are two hundred thousand credits to ANRON? You saw the writ. They'll thank me. Now let's find the girl."

Footsteps ran back and forth, back and forth. Seconds passed. Minutes. Maybe hours. Finally, they faded away into the rest of the building. But inside my head I was silently screaming, that gunshot still echoing in my ears, long after the Library doors had swung shut and their footsteps had left.

A/N: And this ends the super short chapters. Thanks for putting up with me - it's hard converting an edited book to Wattpad sometimes! 

Speaking of which, I'm trying to settle for updating every Wednesday and Saturday. Hope that works for everyone. For fresh sci-fi updates every day of the week, check out @SciNation. And if you're a gaming nerd like me, you'll love Hive by @RS_Benedict.