Welcome to seg 2.3. Now that I've got you trapped reading this, you'll be stuck for forever! Or at least until you go up to the right hand side of the screen and press that little x. But that wouldn't be very nice at all. So continue reading!
Kuna was walking around Chelsea park on her lunch break. It was definitely a perk of working in the office just across the street, an old parking garage refurbished by CrossTechD into an outbranch.
"New York may be a bit crowded, but at least I get to walk around in some green on my breaks." Kuna thought to herself as she took another nibble at her sandwich wrap. Her handset buzzed in her heavy overcoat which she always wore, still not used to cold New York winter. It was accompanied by a chime from her earpiece.
"Second division, PA team, Josh Dershwin calling"
"Answer" She muttered, the earpiece she wore picking up her answer and connecting the call. Kuna had hoped not to be disturbed while on her break, but unfortunately her team wasn't the smartest. She often wondered how they managed to last through enough schooling to get the little pieces of paper to say they were smart, when they obviously couldn't handle much on their own at all. "Kuna here. What is it?"
"Kuna! CSD0002 is in the 'scape. We think he may have seen the user activity. I tried wiping the records as fast as I could, but from his emotional state records it seems he may have seen Peter's name. Is this going to destroy our work? How do we set this straight? Kuna -"
"Shut up!" Kuna interrupted Josh. "He's in the 'scapes. We can just add a bit more memory and have it overlap his earlier ones. It's nothing to get all worked up about."
There was silence on the other end of the line. Kuna could hear Josh breathing heavily as he thought about it for a while. Faking memories could be difficult, but it could be done. Further, they didn't even need to really make up a new memory, just fudge the old one up a little. Get rid of one line of code, that's all. Easy as that.
"Now if they could only manage to do something like that..." Kuna thought to herself before continuing. "Or is that too hard for you to do Josh? I'm sure that Pearson could easily find me someone who could. Someone with a little more... initiative. And skill. Unless you happen to like your job..." Kuna let the pause hang in the air. The breathing on the other end of the line quieted down suddenly with a small gasp.
"Yes Kuna. I'm sorry. I'm on it now." Josh answered, his voice subdued.
"It's all right Josh. Just get to it. Also, I'm Ms. Mardar. Can't be too friendly now can we? I'm your boss. Forget about sharing a class in college." And with that Kuna ended the call.
She shook her head. These people, Josh in particular, were supposed to be smart. She had gone to school with a couple of them. Their living was the study of the mind and body, the connections between the two, how impressions made on the mind could affect the body, all of that. It wasn't supposed to be an easy line of work. Yet they could never seem to rise to the occasion. Always calling to make sure they're doing right, or to ask for help when they can't figure something out quickly. Still, it was the team that Pearson had given her to work with, and she would either whip them into shape, or they would get fired. As easy as that.
"Pearson, the Youth is being brought up to you now. Is there anything more?"
The intercom buzzed at Pearson as he sat in his office.
"No, that should be fine. Thank you" Pearson replied. He sat forward, the antique leather chair creaking as he put his elbows on his desk. Looking down, he studied the knots in the wood on his desk, the fine lines swirling together, drawn by some force, focusing in onto a point. That pull, that irresistible pull from something beyond our power to stop, caught up in forces beyond our understanding or comprehension... Our lives, constantly shifting, flowing, pulling together and pulling apart.
"It feels like watching my life being drawn out, trying to follow a straight line, but bouncing from one dilemma to another." Pearson sat up, shaking his head "Funny that. Growing nostalgic. I wonder if this happened to the Old Man or any of the others."
But Pearson would need to ponder that later. Here was the Youth, ready to be questioned, tested, discussed, to see if he could take Pearson's place some day. At least, that was the original intent according to the Old Man's plan, but Pearson had an ace up his sleeve, one that was supposedly coming along well.
There was a knock at the office door just before they opened, and in walked Trenton, escorting the Youth.
"Welcome!" Pearson rose from his desk, walking around with his hand extended to the Youth. "How are you? You look much older from our last visit, my boy. Tell me how everything has been coming along with your education!"
The Youth shook his hand, a grin exploding across his face. He looked much like a younger Pearson would, light gray-blue eyes that could alternately sparkle like running water, full of light and life, or look as flat and menacing as the ocean waves that could, and would, take the lives of many. Blonde hair drifted across those eyes though, unkempt and tossed from the ride over from the house that Pearson had provided for the Youth. The only major difference between the Youth and Pearson was height; Whereas Pearson was a tall, dignified version of the Youth, the Youth had yet to catch his height.
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So guys there is more, but I'm going outside now. Also, ccceeellleeebrate!!! My pc is working! (ish. It has to sit in a certain spot in the middle of my room with the cord attached a certain way, but hey, I'm online and writing again! Woot!)
