White Matter

Battling Pandas

Monday, May 25

"Remember me?" With this blank statement he dropped into the chair opposite and grinned at me.

Had I been a bad actor I would have done a double take. As it was, I was halfway through my solitary morning coffee, warming up for my day ahead. Having half-dozed through a bus ride and then settled gently into the muffled, laid-back ambience of the café, I was reluctant just yet to emerge from the dreamtime. I remembered him all right; it was Mr Slick of the border patrol, or more likely of some other more ominous and nameless organisation. As he had been at the airport interrogation room he was immaculately presented, in a suit I might have worn myself in a former life.

"Oh, it's you." Back in this life, I wasn't in the mood for interrogations, however well dressed the interrogator. I just wanted to finish my coffee in peace.

"I've been waiting for your call. Did you lose my number?"

He took out another of his minimalist business cards and slid it across to me. We were in Zona, the coffee-franchise-in-disguise on The Cluster campus. It was my habit to stop in there for breakfast most mornings.

"Nothing to report. Just business as usual, I'm afraid." I tried to keep the sleep in my voice, but my head was beginning to clear whether I liked it or not.

"Mr Williams returned from Japan this morning. I thought you might have something to tell me about what he plans to do next."

"Keep working on his machine, I would imagine. I'm pretty sure that's what it says in the business plan."

"Has he perhaps told you a little more than that?"

I did my best to maintain a blank expression. His voice had more animation than I recall from our previous encounter, a friendly affability that almost had me wanting to be helpful. I suppressed this urge. "It's a bit early in the morning for all this, don't you think?"

"What about the phone calls?"

"Yeah, so what? There were phone calls. We kept in touch." I yawned.

"Encrypted phone calls."

"I wouldn't know about that. I just pick it up when it rings."

"Secrecy implies secrets. Are you sure you don't have anything to pass on?"

"So Graeme is paranoid." I shrugged. "You can hardly be surprized, ... I mean, you really are out to get him."

"Most certainly not. Mr Williams' safety is a primary concern of mine. The work he is doing is of national importance. Why else do you think I am talking to you?"

"I had wondered."

He looked genuinely offended. "We are on your side, Mr Jones. You are aware of that aren't you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Course you are." Taking my phone from a pocket, I glanced at its screen. "Sorry, time for work." I stood up and pushed my half-full cup of coffee across the table until it rested on top of his name card. "Here, you can finish this if you like."

As I walked across the courtyard to the Spurious building, I recalled how, in parts of Asia, your business card was considered a representation of your face. To use someone's as a bar coaster constituted a serious insult. Somehow, I doubted my government agent was aware of this; but then nor did I believe the name printed on the card was the one his parents gave him.

*

No touch on the shoulder or anything like that, just soft-spoken, almost hesitant words, spoken from behind me. "Kurt, we need you in a meeting."