New Earth City: 5 January

"I'm here to see a man called Cho." I said to the receptionist at the offices of truthFeed. I sounded like I was asking permission to see him.

"Are you?" she asked, challenging me. She was young and had an attitude.

"Yes. I am," I said trying to sound like I was talking down to her.

"You are?"

Why do people have to do this sort of thing?

I took a breath and then nodded toward the door that I assumed led to the room where the journalists had their cubicles. "Is it this way, then?"

"Uh, sir, I can't let you in there," she said, jumping in between me and the door behind her desk.

"Well, then tell Cho to come and get me. It's urgent." I was a decometer away from her face.

She looked over to the display on her desk. I did the same and saw a contact window appear. It had a picture of a man and his name "Stanley Cho" in big letters. Looking back at her, I saw her wink with her right eye and then a double-wink. On the display, a message appeared "connecting."

Her display had been calibrated to her eyes. It was expensive technology, but what I'd expect from a mainstream inFeed like TF.

"Stan, there's a guy here for you." She was quiet as (I assume) Cho replied to her question. "He says it's urgent."

"Tell him Van Bush sent me."

"He says Van Bush sent him."

She looked startled for a brief moment and then stepped away from the door. "Go ahead--he's in the corner office."

I opened the door and entered.

Inside, it was quite hectic--journalists were everywhere, talking about stories they were working on. It was pretty exciting. I wondered what would end up in the eleven o'clock feeds that night that I was hearing about right then.

Before I even reached Cho's office I realized I had no idea what any of them were talking about because the noise just made it too hard to concentrate. I wondered how anyone was supposed to work with all that noise.

I spotted the door to Cho's office. His name and picture were next to it. Just as I was about to knock, the door slid open and Cho exited.

"You Van's friend?"

"Uhh," I didn't have time to qualify, so I just said: "yes!"

He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door.

"Come on--we can't talk here. Don't say anything--anything at all until I tell you it's safe!"

Before I knew it we were outside the offices of truthFeed and in the elevator, heading down to the ground.

I glanced around the elevator nervously, not sure how to behave. I took a breath, as though I was ready to speak but didn't as I saw Cho shake his head at me.

"Not yet. I'll tell you when."

I watched as the elevator floor number dropped lower and lower. Finally, we dropped below the ground floor. The numbers disappeared and were replaced with a grocery market logo which announced "Food Experience."

"We're going grocery shopping?" I asked.

Cho smiled. "I grew up on the Far Eastern Quad--food is very important to us."

I nodded, familiar with the stereotype. The elevator doors opened and Cho passed me. I followed him out to see him pulling out a cart from a dispenser.

"You're joking."

"Joking? About what?"

"Mr. Cho, I just had, well, that is to say, I believe I just had my life threatened this morning and you want to go for groceries?"

"I can't work on an empty stomach. Come on."

He rolled the cart off in front of him and I followed. The midday rush had begun, though I was still surprised to see so many shoppers there on Holiday. The place was loud with activity and voices.

"Everyone's picking up last minute items for their big family-based Holiday meals," Cho said.

Of course.

He began to fill up his cart.

"Is that what you're doing?" I was understandably curious.

"Me? No. I don't have a family. I'm single, but I still like to eat well, as I said."

"Right, you're from the FEQ."

"Exactly. What about you?"

"Me? I'm from the subs." I wondered how long the pleasantries would go on for.

"Here?"

"Yeah, but I spent a lot of time in the West Quad. How about you?"

"Grew up in the West Quad, too--but down south. Parents were from the FEQ, though."

He had his cart filled up a quarter of the way already. As we rolled down the desert aisle, he finally allowed us to talk about the important stuff.

"So, what did Van tell you?"

"He said the Vidi is a surveillance system."

"A surveillance system? Is that all he said?"

"Yeah. That and something about Latin?"

"Oh... haha..."

"What does it mean?" I asked.

"Latin's an old dead language. Vidi refers to seeing things. In fact, there's something an old conquerer said: vini, vidi, vici."

"Never heard of it."

"No, you wouldn't have. No one has, but Van and me and a few other lucky people."

"What does it mean?"

"We came, we saw, we were victorious."

I nodded. "Something called 'the Vidi' would be a system of watching us, then?"

"It would seem that way."

"Well, what about hearing? Shouldn't we be someplace private?" I asked.

"We are in private. With all the background noise here, it's impossible for audio recording sensors to differentiate between us and everyone else. What the sensors do pick up, is mixed in with talk of the best tasting salad dressing."

"Ah, I see," I said. "There's something else."

"Oh yeah? Something else Van told you?"

"Well, he said I should make sure you share your byline with me."

"Ha! You're a journalist are you?"

"Worked for the feedWest for a few years--but that's not what I mean. After Van left me I was approached by another man who begged me not to come to you."

Cho looked at me for a moment and then shrugged. "Who was this man?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't say, but he promised there would be 'hell to pay.'"

"Haven't heard that phrase in a while."

"I've never heard it--what does it mean? 'Hell to pay'?"

"It means the mythical underworld where we all go to suffer an eternity of pain for our sins will be paying for whatever happens because you told me what Van told me."

"So, do you think he was serious?"

"I don't know."

"Oh! He also told me that if I told you that I should meet him at Future Park tomorrow."

"Not sure what to make of that. Tell me, Mr., uh--"

"Conant, Jim Conant."

"Mr. Contant, are you married?"

"Yes, I am."

"And you are a journalist?"

"Yes, I am."

"You should go home to your wife and forget all about this then. You've helped immeasurably. Van coming to me would have been a red flag to the powers that be. I can now investigate this further. There's no need for your wife to become endangered."

"My wife? What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Conant, by pursuing this story with me you may very well draw the attention of very powerful people. Being this kind of journalist is not the best choice for your health. Go home to your wife, Mr. Conant. I'll take care of things from here on out."

"But..."

"Seriously--just, right now, go home." He stopped rolling the cart, faced me, and gave me a look that was hard to ignore. The look told me that I was in over my head.

"All right," I said.

The next morning, I looked for his column in truthFeed. I didn't see it. Instead, I saw... his obituary.

My mind raced, but I just didn't have enough information on any of this for it to do anything but race in circles. The only thing I could think to do was go back to Future Park and see if that guy would come back.

I immediately skipped breakfast and got on the mono, back downtown. I got to Future Park around 1 in the afternoon. I waited on a park bench for about an hour before the man appeared.

"I told you I wouldn't kill you or Mr. Bush."

"Yes."

"But, Mr. Cho..."

"One reporter dying is hardly 'hell paying' or whatever it was that you said."

"No, that's true and his story might still come to light. Luckily, there's another solution in the works."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"You will see, Mr. Conant." With that, he walked off in the same direction I saw Bush move off in and like the old man, this mystery fellow had the A-mono waiting for him.

I began to worry about Ande. Her plane wasn't coming in until the eleventh, two days from then. She really missed her folks so she has been spending a couple weeks there.

At least I knew she was safe and away from me.

-Jim