Sorts of Ports was an intricately designed collection of buildings. Fine towers of cement coated in steel, painted over with a chrome finish made up most of its appearance. Several towers with bridges and walkways on every odd numbered floor created a web between the skyscrapers. At a distance, the buildings looked like beams of silver jutting out of the ground.
Evann carefully guided his middle finger across the screen. The three-dimensional image rotated, and brackets filled in on the side, detailing points of interest on the map. Pinching his fingers together, he slowly spread them apart on the surface, and the image zoomed in. Hundreds of rooms with hundreds of purposes—with a significant number of overlapping duties—were listed on the side as they appeared closer.
Evann grunted. “This a bit more complex than I was expecting.”
“If you would prefer, I could guide you wherever you need to be,” Avina offered.
“No,” he mumbled as he looked up from his screen, “I need to get acquainted with the layout.”
“I understand.”
Without the ability to contact Lara at a moment’s notice, the mission had grown to excessive complexity. There’d be no way to leave for any substantial amount of time without drawing suspicion to himself. Not until dusk, at least.
He stretched his fingers and toes to alleviate his nerves. It’d been a while since he felt this way, and the sensation was almost foreign to him. He hated it. It brought him back to his younger years, when he was more na?ve and scared to get into firefights. Turned out that a part of that person was still somewhere inside him.
Calm down. You’re not some rookie.
“Can I be of assistance?” Avina asked, and Evann flinched.
“No. I’ll be fine,” Evann said.
Avina hummed. Perhaps this was another of her momentary attempts to seem more human.
Evann rubbed the creases of his forehead and set the datapad on his desk. Initially, he’d been worried that Sorts of Ports might be on to him. Such devices usually required a constant connection to the company’s infrastructure in order to operate. The moment the device disconnected, all of its functions would be disabled, including the external ports. If the device was cracked open to reconnect the external ports while it was disconnected, a signal would be sent, indicating tampering. Normally, such devices weren’t an issue, as SPECTREs were above such regulations.
But he wasn’t at Centurion. He was a nobody at one of the world’s largest manufacturers. Viewing highly detailed information that was likely privy to a select few was a great way to not only get himself fired, but potentially killed. Being the new guy, it was likely he’d be observed for some time before they fully trusted him. That was standard at any company, and he went through the same hazing ritual at Centurion.
So, Avina did what she did best: became a problem.
According to her, it wasn’t unusual to see datapads disconnect from the company’s servers while it was not in use. Remaining connected drained the battery like something fierce, and Avina emphasized that people in the company did it every day with no history of scrutinization.
The plan was simple: Avina would be delivered through an external port on the machine. During her transfer, she would deliver false information so as not to draw suspicion. She continued to do this even once she was fully within the datapad, disabling the restrictions for offline use.
To be honest, the entire process made Evann uncomfortable. He was placing a lot of unfounded trust in an A.I. that he barely knew. Reason dictated that she was in just as much danger as he, so he constantly told himself that to keep a straight face and calm his nerves. But all it would take was one mistake, one small misstep to blow the entire operation wide open.
“We should explore the compound,” Avina suggested. “Once you are ready, of course.”
“Right.” Evann leaned on his elbow and brushed the stubble on his chin. He’d need to shave once he arrived at his new apartment. I’m just distracting myself. Buying time. That’s enough of that. He rose to his feet and adjusted his suit, glancing at the box Sang gave him. Plucking the key from his pocket, he threw the box into a drawer and locked it, tugging on it twice—a habit he’d gained from having his apartment broken into years ago. “All right. Let’s go.”
---
Stuffy couldn’t even begin to describe what Evann felt as he walked the halls of Sorts of Ports. He was used to such environments, as Centurion was hardly any different most of the time, but sometimes he wondered if it would kill some of these people to relax with a beer once in a while.
“Take the path on your left,” Avina advised.
Evann did as she said, and the glass doors opened to one of the many paths that connected the towers. As he stepped outside, the sun greeted him, its rays blocked by several sheets of tinted glass. They made up the top half of the corridor that lay beyond him, the bottom portion of the passage made from layers of concrete and steel, with plates of chrome and aluminum on top. A few employees turned their heads toward him as he entered, then returned to their prior conversations with their coworkers.
Would be tough to take a cigarette break in here.
Working here was going to be a pain in the ass, even if temporary. From what he’d seen of the schematics, all the passageways were designed like this. With no open air to speak of, the only option for a smoker like himself was to take the elevator down to the bottom floor and smoke out front. That assumed Sorts of Ports was all right with that. He grunted, frustrated that he hadn’t looked for a nonsmoking sign. The thought hadn’t occurred to him to check.
The passageway felt firm, strong. Dust and dirt pelted the glass, but to his surprise, it made no noise, and the glass didn’t shake one bit. Additionally, it was rather warm. Too warm.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
E-proof glass?
Such glass was expensive, affordable only by the most lucrative companies in Bastion. Designed to withstand nearly any environment, including high impact strikes, such material was difficult to destroy for anything below military grade weaponry. Even then, it took considerable force to penetrate. The only caveat to it was that it had poor resistance to heat. During its development phases, many workers reported cases of heat stroke and increased exhaustion where the glass had been installed.
As time passed, however, the technology improved. While the problem still existed, it was now more of a minor inconvenience than a real problem.
Evann tugged around the collar of his shirt and strode through the passage, hands in his pockets. As he passed the other employees on his way through—taking great care not to look in their direction—he listened closely to their conversations. There were the typical complaints associated with such high stress jobs, of course, but what Evann found more interesting was the level of gossip that surrounded him.
“It would seem that the insider is a well-known topic here,” Avina said.
Evann grunted.
He could only hear bits and pieces of their conversations, but they were enough to confirm what he’d thought all along: those who worked here were terrified to step outside the lines.
Corporations were, at their heart, always looking for ways to come out on top. Centurion was hardly any different in that regard. It was simply the way of the world here in Bastion. Even so, there was a certain level of protection, of sanctuary, offered by each company in most cases. Those who didn’t were usually blacklisted in their own way without the backing of another company to bail them out. Despite Sorts of Ports offering great pay and debatable privacy, there was a thick, depressing air around the employees despite their assurances that nothing was wrong.
The control has to be off the charts for the air to feel this wrong.
Evann walked to the other side of the passage, and the automatic doors opened at his presence. A pair of giggling women who looked to be in their early twenties passed him by. They were dressed in black formal wear, and each bore implant scars around the base of their ears. Those would fade over time and become nearly invisible to the naked eye. Unless one knew what to look for, they’d be none the wiser.
So that’s how they keep an eye on everyone.
There was no absence of cameras or recording equipment. Not with people like them walking around. It was apparent to Evann that they were the eyes and ears of Sorts of Ports. With enough of them prowling the floor, one could easily have their own miniature army of surveillance bots.
“Is something wrong?” Avina asked.
Evann clicked his tongue, frustrated that he couldn’t respond. Not while there were others walking around. There was no way to gauge what was too quiet for those ears to pick up. That didn’t even account for whether they’d had eye surgery. For all he knew, their eyes were just as threatening as their ears. Human replicas were getting easier to manufacture every year, and the surgery was much easier to hide since the scars were hidden behind the eyeball.
Fuck. I really don’t like this.
“Your heart is beating faster,” Avina commented. “I am sorry if I said something that upset you.”
Did she not understand what was going on? It was clear she couldn’t read his mind—and he was grateful for that—but considering she could share his senses, he imagined she would’ve caught on once he saw the scar behind the ear.
Maybe she’s not as adept as I thought.
This worsened his line of thought and brought him back to their time with the datapad. He couldn’t imagine they got caught. Surely, they would’ve sent a few men to his door to have him apprehended.
But what if they didn’t? They may want to see what I do. Wait until I pose indisputable proof.
Evann steadied his breathing. It wasn’t going to do him any good to panic. He knew that. So, he continued his stroll around the compound, casually greeting his coworkers as it proved appropriate. As he did, he cross-referenced what he remembered from the map, and so far, it had proven to be accurate. A half hour of this passed without incident. He even managed to pull out a smile and flirt with a few of the ladies.
Maintaining a steady pace, Evann returned to his office. Once the door was shut, he exhaled, and his nerves began to finally calm.
“Something is wrong,” Avina said. “You haven’t said a word to me since we left this room.”
“We should talk for a minute,” Evann whispered.
“You are being quiet. Why?”
Evann pushed away from the door and sat in the swivel chair. Before he responded, he opened the drawer and was relieved to see that Sang’s device was still inside. Running his finger alongside the make, he could find no evidence of tampering. Everything was just as he’d left it.
“How much do you know about implants?” Evann asked. It only just occurred to him that much of her information could be lacking in the present day if some of her memories and core programming was missing.
“I have detailed files.”
Surgery methods were changing every year, every month. Hell, in some cases, every week. Depending on the complexity of the surgery and its purpose, many methods were withheld from the public eye. Evann was painfully aware of this, being employed by Centurion. Many SPECTREs were equipped with permanent implants, and he certainly was no different.
He reached over his shoulder, brushing the metal groove around his shoulder plate. “Several of the women we walked by bore scars on their ears. Did you notice that?” Avina paused, and Evann rocked his jaw. “This is not a good time to pause for dramatic effect.”
“I apologize. Yes. I did notice.”
“Are you aware of what surgeries and implants are associated with such scars?”
“I must admit that I do not.”
Evann shook his head and cursed under his breath. “Great.”
“Please.” Her voice descended to a softer, more nurturing tone. If she had a physical body, it would’ve been easy to picture her with a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what it is I do not know.”
Evann sighed and leaned forward with his arms draped over his knees. “Usually, those scars are indicative of surveillance implants.” He wrung his hands in thought, wondering if Avina could pick up context clues about how his hands felt, how the sweat mingled with his nerves, the difficulty in concentrating on the task at hand. “Those are just the ones we can see. With time, they’ll fade, and some of the better surgeons know how to hide them.”
“That is problematic. So, then I am to understand that this is why you remained quiet during our venture around Sorts of Ports.”
Evann nodded. “That’s right.”
A brief silence passed.
“There is a central control room in the basement floor with surveillance systems. Perhaps if we—”
“Out of the question,” Evann said. “Many of the systems have local backups. As soon as the systems come back online, their equipment will make a connection and we’ll be screwed.”
“I apologize for my premature response. It would seem that my information is lacking.”
“It’s fine,” Evann said as he ran a hand over his hair. “You’ve given me plenty to think about after we walked around for a while. It’s clear to me that they’re worried about something like you getting in their systems.”
“I doubt they have suspected me.”
Evann shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. Third parties offer their services to hack and break down company code and spill information to the black market. What I mean to say, is that they likely built their firewalls and security systems anticipating one might try to break in. I think that would explain why every other person seemed to have those damned implants. They’re starting to lose trust in their own system, so they rely on good old-fashioned flesh and blood.”
“Ah. I see.” Avina hummed. “Outsourced hackers were a significant thorn in the sides of others in the past. Yes.”
“Always have been,” Evann said as he leaned back and put his feet on the desk, “always will be.” A brief silence passed. “Anyways. There’s not much we can do for now until we go to the apartment, so let’s try to relax until then.”
“Yes. Let’s take one hundred and eighty-six.”
Evann chuckled.