Reflection: Book One

By W. Scott Causey

By the year 2126, CEO Carlton Ferguson and his immensely powerful corporation have already introduced the world to Reflection Technology, a means to view any event that has happened in a previous forty-eight-hour window. Effectively ridding the world of crime, the technology is far too valuable for society to abandon but too dangerous for one person to control. Still, Carlton is determined that he, and he alone, should hold the key to this Pandoras box and finds himself in a battle to keep what is his. Further, he is secretly deep within the process of enhancing the technology to go far beyond a mere two-day limit and does not intend to stop until he can witness the very beginning of time itself. Governments covet the technology, while world faiths fear it will unmask the very gods to whom they pray. Though their goals may be mutually exclusive, religious and political opponents conspire to force Carlton into revealing his secrets. With few available options, Carlton agrees to a tenuous partnership with the United States government but quickly learns that his innate reluctance to freely offer his trust is justified.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514400364

W. Scott Causey

W. Scott Causey loves science fiction. As a child, when he wasn’t watching sci-fi on television or reading sci-fi books, he was building toy starships and imagining life in the utopia that he knew Earth was destined to become. The Reflection Series represents Scott’s best effort to reconcile those childhood dreams with the realities of life in the context of the world in which we all live. Born and raised in Jackson, Mississippi, Scott currently resides with his husband in Jacksonville, Florida, where they both make every effort to raise their dogs as if they were children and enjoy as much science fiction as possible. And to any who might be wondering, yes, FergaCorp WorldWide is named after a dachshund.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Present or, More Accurately, the Very, Very Recent Past

I F ONE PLACED a Reflection Window at the spatial coordinates that corresponded with the main entrance of FergaCorp WorldWide and opened an aperture to the evening of February 18, 2126, one would have seen that it was snowing. One would have also observed Carlton Ferguson rushing out uncharacteristically early, paying no attention to the weather, and instructing his car to take him to the hospital that bore his family name. He was an exceedingly good-looking man, forty-four years of age, and around six feet two inches in stature. He had been making it on most handsome celebrity lists since he turned twenty but found such press vile. With a fair complexion and ruffled auburn hair, he made every effort he could to avoid attention while still dressing in a way that managed to create trends despite his indifference. He vacillated between a clean-shaven or stubbled face, depending on which seemed in vogue and deliberately doing the opposite.

The fact of the matter was that he was purposefully alone and did not want anyone looking at him long enough to speculate if he intended on staying that way. Men and women had thrown themselves at him throughout his life, but he was never able to successfully determine which, if any, wanted him versus access to his vast wealth, fame, and/or power. As he aged, fine wrinkles had developed around his piercing green eyes, giving him a constant brooding look despite the obvious sincere kindness that any passerby could recognize. He seldom smiled without a purpose and had an aura of sadness, as if he were carrying some sort of unseen burden. That being said, he was not an unhappy man and always made it a goal to set people in his presence at ease.

The hospital was a short distance from the office complex, and Carlton arrived at 5:53 p.m. As he stepped out of the car, he was engaged in a conversation with his virtual assistant or VA—a unit that was speaking to him via an unassuming earpiece placed as a temporary tattoo on the interior of his right ear.

I don’t care about privacy restrictions. I need to know where I can find her. If you can’t tell me where she is, Gabriel, then I’ll find out from the hospital.

A faint glint disappeared from his eye.

Upon walking into the foyer of the Erin Ferguson Memorial Healthcare Center, Carlton glanced up to look at the snow that had piled up on top of the soaring glass atrium. A circular wood and steel self-serve information kiosk was located in the center of the modern cathedral-like room. The technology was state of the art. As the interface illuminated, a friendly female VA named Althea welcomed the user and then added a very specific request. In respect of the patients who may have passed away here and as a courtesy to their families, we must insist that no Reflection Technology be deployed within this building. Failure to adhere to this reasonable request will be circumvented by Atlas graviton emitters. With that understanding, how may I assist you?

I need to find Dr. Lacy Sylvan. I was told she’s in critical condition.

Patient information is restricted to family members. Please display proper identification.

Carlton held up his identification card. Even though the computer was simply reading the chip inside, Althea appeared to be looking at it with careful consideration.

Mr. Ferguson. We were not informed of a visit from our patron. Welcome. May I alert Administrator Dearman so that he may see to your needs?

No, but thank you, Althea. I just need to know what room Dr. Sylvan is in and get an update on her condition.

Looking a bit like a scolded puppy, Althea replied, I am sorry, Mr. Ferguson. I regret that I cannot release that information as you are not a member of the patient’s family. Perhaps Administrator Dearman could assist you? May I alert him to your arrival so that he may see to your needs? Or if Dr. Sylvan is conscious, I can ask her for permission to grant you access to her location.

No, Althea. You may not alert Dr. Dearman, and please don’t disturb Lacy. Just tell me which floor she is on.

I am sorry, Mr. Ferguson. I regret that I cannot release that information as you are not a member of the patient’s family. Please let me know if you reconsider and would like Administrator Dearman to assist you. In the meanwhile, is there anything else that I could do to help you?

Carlton was becoming frustrated. As he debated hacking Althea then and there, he simply asked, Where is the Burn Trauma Center?

Althea appeared to light up, having been asked a question she could actually answer. The Burn Trauma Center is located on the eighth floor. Visiting hours vary based on patient needs but may not be extended beyond 10:00 p.m. However, I am sure that Administrator Dearman would make an exception for you, if required.

Thank you, Althea. Please don’t share this inquiry with anyone at the facility.

You are welcome, Mr. Ferguson. Confidentiality is provided to the fullest extent allowed by hospital procedures.

Carlton noted the specific wording of that last statement and walked over to the bank of elevators at the end of the atrium. As he waited, he glanced over at a portrait of his parents. His mother loved having their name on things. Although part of it was clearly pride, she adamantly maintained that doing so inspired others to give. Carlton did not remember this particular portrait but noticed that his mother was wearing a pendant his father had given her on Carlton’s twenty-first birthday. He and his father always gave his mother a gift on his birthday as a way of saying thank you for having me. She was a beautiful woman, who many had described as statuesque, with natural red hair and a porcelain fair complexion. While Carlton knew her to be a bit self-serving, the world viewed her as someone who had dedicated her entire life to establishing an enduring legacy of philanthropy. Carlton’s paternal grandfather had appreciated the notion publicly when he was alive but privately had considered his son’s lifestyle flippant and always blamed his daughter-in-law for luring his presumed successor away from the family business. There were deep rifts between each generation of the Ferguson family tree.

The chime of the elevator snapped Carlton out of his reminiscing, and he found himself stepping inside by himself. As the doors closed, Althea appeared on a screen.

Hello, Mr. Ferguson. Which floor would you like to visit?

Eighth floor, please.

The eighth floor is the location of the Burn Trauma Center. Please stand by.

Thank you, Althea. Carlton always tried to be polite to VAs. They were typically so pleasant it seemed rude not to offer the same courtesy.

The elevator immediately began a fast and steady climb. On the eighth floor, the doors opened, and Carlton walked over to another kiosk.

Althea, would you please send a nurse to help me?

Hospital staff members are generally expected to focus their attention on the needs of our patients. Are you sure that I cannot help you? Or perhaps you have reconsidered and would like for me to alert Administrator Dearman to your visit?

Carlton made a mental note to have Gabriel audit the hospital. Any administrator who had programmed his VA to be so insistent was either too eager to please or had something to hide. Please just get a nurse to come over whenever somebody has a second. Also, Althea, please don’t make any other offers to alert Dr. Dearman that I’m here during this visit. This is personal, and I don’t want to disturb him.

Of course, Mr. Ferguson. A nurse or attendant will be with you at his or her earliest availability.

Carlton walked over to the waiting room and took a seat, being careful not to touch anything. He was certainly not phobic but did not see any reason to push the odds and did not care for hospitals, even his own. Over in the corner, he noticed a young woman sitting with a little boy. The child was playing with two small action figures, while the woman pretended to be reading something but kept closing her eyes. Carlton did not know if it was due to fatigue or in an effort to fight back tears, but he made a conscious effort to give her a small reassuring smile when she looked up and met his eyes. She was too dazed to recognize him.

About that time, a nurse hurried around the corner. Mr. Ferguson?

Carlton smiled when he read her name tag. What a perfect name for a nurse. Yes, that’s me. Thank you, Hope.

Althea said that you needed help?

Carlton glanced around to make sure it was relatively private. Would you mind walking down the hall with me?

Hope looked puzzled but held out her hand as if to gesture after you.

As they started walking, Carlton reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. I was told that Dr. Lacy Sylvan had been admitted. Hope looked down. Althea explained that you can’t give out patient information, and I completely respect that, but I need to see Dr. Sylvan. We have to find out what happened to her. If the press finds out I was here, it’s going to make things much worse. I’m worried that her accident has to do with our work with Reflection Technology. I wouldn’t ask, but… He looked at the piece of paper and showed it to her. It was a printed picture from his thirtieth birthday dinner that he normally kept in a frame in his office. He was crouched down between Lacy and his grandfather, William, looking up at the camera. Lacy was kissing his cheek, while his grandfather smiled on the other side. Tears filled his eyes as he continued, She is very important to me.

Mr. Ferguson, this is a little bit outside my pay grade. The building has your name on it, but we have to be respectful of our patient’s privacy. I’m not sure I’m comfortable…

Carlton interrupted, You also have to be respectful of your patient’s wishes. I know she wants to see me. I can ask Administrator Dearman. God knows your Althea program is about to crash if I don’t let her call him, but I think that would just draw more attention. It’s imperative that I see her. Can you please just point me to her room? I promise you that you will not be held responsible for any sort of policy violation. You can contact me directly in case anyone so much as ever asks you about my visit. Just tell my VA who you are. By this time, they had walked about two-thirds the length of the hallway.

Hope stopped and looked at the picture. She bit the left side of her cheek as she thought about the repercussions. Given the circumstances, I’m sure Dr. Sylvan would want you to be here. But it would be wrong for me to release her room number, she said as she pointedly looked over Carlton’s shoulder to the door behind him then met his eyes and winked. As she continued, she casually stepped around so that they circled each other and changed positions. I understand that you don’t want anyone to know about your visit though. Please let me know if you’d like for me to get Althea to send for Administrator Dearman to see if he could bend the rules.

Carlton was now facing the door she had been looking so intently at—Room 8216. She reached out and touched his shoulder, saying, Dr. Sylvan is a great woman. I’ll make sure she knows you stopped by. You know, she was the one who made it safe for my kids to play outside again. She smiled and then walked away.

Carlton did not fully understand the need for such subversion but was starting to appreciate the fact that this was the most proceduralized hospital he had ever been to. Hope had acted as though someone was, or would be, watching her understandably bend an otherwise minor rule.

If one was looking at Carlton, one would have seen an actual twinkle in his left eye. This was not so much relief or anticipation but rather his VA, Gabriel, flashing into existence in a scaled display projected in Carlton’s contact LENS or Linked Eye Network System. Gabriel was the first VA Carlton had programmed for his own personal use and was oddly abstract. It appeared completely human or, at least, as a digital image of a human, and male, but had it been a physical being, the VA would have been so unremarkably average that he would have ended up standing out. He appeared to be of no discernable age—not particularly old, not particularly young—and he looked friendly with a perpetual demeanor of eagerness, more like an ingratiating graduate student than an underwear model. Gabriel’s function was to keep Carlton informed about relevant situations and to carry out administrative tasks as assigned while overseeing all company functions on Carlton’s behalf. Although this meant that he became the default face of the company (at least, internally), these roles did not require special programming in regard to appearance. Sir, I apologize for our earlier exchange. I believe I have located Dr. Sylvan. She is on the eighth floor in the Burn Trauma Center, Room 8216.

Really, Gabriel? You don’t get credit for this. Minimize. Wait.

The image of the Gabriel VA shimmered as he instantly reappeared after having been sent away and cocked his head like a pet waiting for a treat.

Yes, sir?

Please interface with the hospital’s Althea program and run an audit. Pay attention to any reason why Administrator Dearman would be paranoid about my showing up unannounced.

Carlton would not normally have issued these types of instructions in an area where he was sure he was being monitored but consciously did so as he wanted Dearman to see.

Yes, sir. Minimizing and commencing audit now.

Carlton sighed and placed his hand on the door, turning the handle down and pausing in a deliberate motion, preparing himself mentally for what he might find on the other side.

CHAPTER 2

The Visit

C ARLTON OPENED THE door of Lacy Sylvan’s hospital room and stepped in, mentally reminding himself to look Lacy in the eye no matter what. He was intent on providing a reassuring and comforting presence but knew his face might show the worst possible expression one could display —pity. In this instance, he could not control it.

An elderly woman lay in the bed, her face, left arm, and chest bandaged—neatly but extensively. Carlton could see that she had lost a leg. She was on a device that steadied her vital signs and regulated her breathing. Her one visible eye was open, and she was crying.

Lacy?

She looked up with her good eye to acknowledge the visitor but did not speak.

Lacy. Oh my God. What happened?

She spoke with a broken parched sounding voice. I didn’t listen. They said they were going to stop me, and I didn’t listen.

Rage ignited deep within Carlton, to the point where he became short of breath and could hear his heart beating in his chest. He had suspected this but did not know for sure as the media reports about Dr. Sylvan’s accident had been decidedly vague.

Let me get you some water.

She reached out to place her hand on his arm.

No, listen. The ring is the beacon. Hearing her strain to get the words out crushed Carlton. He could feel himself slipping into an irrational state of complete wrath. He looked around, but there were no personal effects in the room. As far as Carlton knew, Lacy only had one piece of jewelry, a ruby ring her father had given her.

Lacy, it’s not in here. Were you wearing it during the accident?

Yes, find it. Wait to look at it until you’re back in your office. Only in your office.

Whatever it is, it can wait. What do you need to be more comfortable? Has someone contacted your son?

Do it now, please. There was a look of panic in her functional eye. Urgency crossed with complete fear. I wasn’t ready. I should have been ready, but I thought I had more time.

Okay, okay. I’ll go now and come right back.

Office first. Her breath was shallow and labored. Carlton was furious that whatever errand she was sending him on took such priority in her mind, but he knew to trust her and inherently gave her the benefit of any doubt.

I’ll be back, and don’t worry. I’ll find it right now. I promise, Carlton reassured her.

She nodded with a look of relief. Carlton got up and walked back into the hallway. Placing his hand on the glass console outside her door, he summoned Althea.

Althea, where are Dr. Sylvan’s personal belongings? She’s concerned about a piece of jewelry she had.

Hello, Mr. Ferguson. Our facility takes care to properly store any personal items that are brought in with our patients. Such items are cataloged and secured using the patient’s biometric information. Protocols prevent me from providing specific details as to the storage location and method of security. However, Administrator Dearman could authorize your request.

Why is everything always so difficult? Carlton asked aloud.

I am sorry, Mr. Ferguson, but I don’t understand your question.

Please tell Administrator Dearman that I am here and would very much like to see him as soon as possible. It’s urgent. Carlton had no choice but to finally relent.

Of course, Mr. Ferguson. Right away.

Carlton could tell by the happy tone in her voice that Dearman had been contacted before Althea had even finished the sentence. Something about VAs inherently made them bad card players. There was an indescribable inflection that he could always pick up on when a program had been taken off track then allowed to realign with its primary programming. It was subtle but could only be described as a giddy tone of relief. Of course, Carlton tended to anthropomorphize these things.

Within minutes, Administrator Dearman stepped off the elevator. He was an older overweight man, short in stature, and a bit of a caricature.

Mr. Ferguson! It’s so good to have you visit. Althea should have alerted me as soon as you got here. I’m so sorry if you’ve had any inconvenience.

None at all. She did exactly as I instructed. I was trying to keep this low-key, but I find myself needing a favor.

Of course. What can I do for you?

Lacy Sylvan was brought in after the explosion. She’s in your burn ward.

Yes, I know! Horrible, horrible news. You must be devastated. The fact that something so tragic could happen to a person who has contributed so much to our society is unthinkable.

I know. You are aware of the nature of FCWW’s relationship with Dr. Sylvan?

Of course, it’s historic.

What is not documented in the media and stock reports is that she is like family to me. I owe her more than I can ever express. She is a dear, dear friend—maybe my only real one.

I understand. What can I do for you? Dearman asked.

Dr. Sylvan had an item that she seems very concerned about—a ring. I’ve seen her wear it every day of her life. It has a red stone, a ruby, I think. I just spoke to her, and she was very adamant that I get it immediately. Will you allow me to access her personal effects so I can look for it? I know it’s a lot to ask.

Oh, Mr. Ferguson. We’ve already cataloged her belongings and notified her son. We expect him to be here shortly. He really should be the one to handle this for you.

Dr. Sylvan was in a near panic. She wants this taken care of now, and I gave her my word. This will help put her at ease. I promise to discuss it with Jason when he gets here.

If it were anyone else, I’d have to give a flat ‘no,’ but given the circumstances, we want to do anything we can to assist Dr. Sylvan. Give me one minute, and I will have someone bring it.

Actually, I need to retrieve it myself. Can you walk me there? You can observe whatever I take.

Of course. Let’s go.

Within minutes, the two arrived at the administrative floor, and Dr. Dearman had overridden a series of locks, giving Carlton access to the hospital’s equivalent of a safe-deposit box. Carlton was sure that it had to be in his imagination, but he thought he could smell smoke and charred flesh when Dearman opened the container. Inside was a ruby ring in a setting that had been badly bent and what was sure to be a no-longer-functioning LENS. Dr. Dearman explained that any other items Lacy had been wearing were too badly damaged to save. Carlton looked at the ring and recognized it immediately.

And you say Dr. Sylvan wanted you to have this? Dearman asked.

I expect it’s for Jason, and she just wanted me to take care of it. It was the only piece of jewelry she ever wore, so it must have sentimental value. I’m taking it, okay? You have my word I’ll return it to Jason.

I understand. Can I do anything else for you?

Is the graviton security system working properly? Carlton asked.

Many businesses and tech-savvy individuals with things to hide had taken to installing graviton emitters as a form of privacy security. Reflection Windows relied on precise spatial coordinates to function, and even the most minor fluctuations in gravity around an event site could force the Window to open miles away, or somewhere that coincided with being underground, or in a completely different time. Carlton enjoyed the irony of the fact that most people did not realize that the technology was built and marketed by a subsidiary of FergaCorp WorldWide.

Of course. We take our patient’s security very seriously, Dearman answered.

Excellent. That being the case, the only other thing I would ask for would be your discretion. This is a very personal matter, and I don’t want any part of my visit being fodder for the press.

You were never here.

Well, we both know that no one can erase that particular fact, but thank you for keeping this between you and me. I’ll be checking in with Jason, but I trust that you will also let me know if Lacy needs anything in the world. I’ll see to anything you need for her care—specialists, equipment, anything.

There is a new dermal regeneration unit that’s being used almost exclusively in the EU. It wouldn’t do anything to improve her stability, but it would ease some of the pain she’s in, not to mention other patients would benefit for years to come.

It’ll be here tomorrow.

Oh, Mr. Ferguson. I’m not sure that’s possible, but anything you could do would be wonderful.

"It will be here tomorrow. With that, I’m going to leave her in your hands."

Yes, sir. We’ll do everything we can for her. Can I walk you out? Dearman offered.

No need. Like I said, I don’t want to draw attention. Thank you though.

As Carlton got back on the elevator, he briefly wondered if Dearman had already seen the footage he allowed to be recorded requesting the audit. He went back to assure Lacy that he had gotten the ring but found her unconscious. Convinced there was nothing he could do but honor her wishes, he returned to his car to go back to his office to find out what was so special about this piece of jewelry. As the car began the return trip, he glanced at the icon displayed in his LENS to summon Gabriel. A flash lit up in the corner of his eye.

Yes, sir?

Arrange to have a dermal regenerator purchased for the hospital and scheduled for arrival tomorrow. Get it here however you have to.

That will be quite expensive, sir.

Take it from my personal account, and mark it as a charitable contribution. Also, while you’re at it, find out the identity of the nurse I spoke with. Her name was Hope. She mentioned having kids. Please go ahead and set up a college fund for them. When the time comes, have it awarded as an anonymous scholarship. I don’t want her to know it was from me. Oh, and after I leave, access the hospital’s security system, and delete any reference to my being here, along with scrubbing images from any recordings. Carlton was not one to forget a kindness but could barely tolerate the attention. That was his parent’s specialty.

Understood, sir. Hope Peterson has two teenage daughters. The accounts have been allocated as you instructed, and I am working on deleting the security footage, although there is nothing I can do to erase your interactions with the people you encountered. You were hardly invisible.

Please do your best. Also, Gabriel, one last thing. Did you happen to note the time when I asked Althea to summon Dr. Dearman and when he arrived?

Of course, sir. Dr. Dearman arrived three minutes and thirty-seven seconds after you initiated the request.

He’s a real apple-polisher. Continue that audit, and let me know as soon as you’re done.

Yes, sir. ‘Apple-polisher,’ sir? Gabriel did not always understand slang but endeavored to keep a running list of idioms.

It’s just an expression. It means he’s trying too hard. He’s got something to prove.

I have added the phrase to my lexicon and updated the FCWW VA database. I will keep you apprised regarding the audit.

The light in Carlton’s left eye flickered, and miles away, the scrolling lines of numbers, reports, and codes streaming across the monitor embedded in the glass desk in Carlton’s private office increased speed as Gabriel redoubled his efforts. In a virtual world known only to a computer, Gabriel continued an elaborate dance around Althea, making sure she was never aware of his presence even as he downloaded every bit of data housed on the hospital’s servers and rewrote history as it pertained to its benefactor’s visit.

CHAPTER 3

Argus, the All-Seeing

T O BE CLEAR, Reflection Technology had made Carlton exceedingly paranoid. Not the type of clinical, debilitating paranoia that lands people in institutions but the type of paranoia that makes a person impossible to get close to on any level. The walls Carlton had built around himself were practically visible, and the only person in recent history who had breached them on any level was Lacy Sylvan. There was never any type of romantic tension on either side. She was considerably older than he was and regarded him as a protégé. Likewise, Carlton was consumed with his work and had no patience for distractions. Carlton was also, by his own admission, inherently selfish and ill-suited to any sort of relationship that involved compromise on any level. Besides that, he was an exasperating procrastinator by nature and maintained that socializing in general could wait, putting it off like a visit to his grandfather’s grave.

The attack on Lacy had left him so shaken that he had not even been able to collect his thoughts as to what action he should take. Consumed with making sure that she was physically stabilized, thoughts of apprehending the person or group who had done this to her had been pushed aside but were now starting to surface. He wondered what was so important about the ring that he now held in his hand, secure in his office.

The room was calming, even Zen-like. It presented a perfect balance of elements that subscribed to an idealized feng shui that could only be accomplished with meticulous attention to detail and a highly paid designer. Overtly sleek and modern, the office’s glass panels illuminated and made a perfect background for shelving that neatly organized Carlton’s most treasured items, be they from his travels or his childhood. His desk was plain but integrated massive amounts of unseen technology. Under the glass and polished steel top, reports were swimming by from the hospital audit that Gabriel was currently conducting.

He sat back in his chair and motioned so that the display was transferred to his LENS. He glanced at data as it scrolled by and was amazed at how thorough a VA he had designed in Gabriel.

Minimize. The display in his eye went dark as did the desktop.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out the ring. He looked at it and was certain that it was more than it seemed.

Gabriel, please black out the room.

Within an instant, everything went pitch-dark. The technology in Carlton’s office was typically such that could be suppressed but not eliminated. There was always a faint glow from the desk, or consoles concealed behind the glass paneling, as well as a drone of white noise he had playing at all times. Beyond this, his office overlooked what he believed to be the most beautiful and illuminated skyline in the world, but, of course, he was biased. He had made Manhattan his home as soon as he was old enough to go to work at FCWW. One normally could have seen with perfect clarity just from the ambient lighting outside. However, with this command, xenon gas filled the windowpanes and the glass panes blackened, being exposed to minute amounts of electricity that interacted with the gas. The same technology darkened his desk. There was effectively no light in the room whatsoever.

He blindly placed the ring on the desk.

Please scan this item, and display the findings on my LENS. No audio.

Moments passed before Gabriel displayed a written report, saying that the ruby in the ring was genuine but that it was coated in an artificial layer.

Analyze, Carlton commanded, sitting in the dark.

The report changed and showed that a chemical compound had created a ruby-like shell around the actual gem. This was fairly simple technology for FCWW. The company had integrated manufactured diamonds into its industrial singularity generators since the advent of the technology. But it was a unique chemical signature in the compound that caught Gabriel’s attention–it was an encoded message.

Please decrypt, Carlton requested.

This took Gabriel several seconds, indicating the level of encryption was remarkable, but then a simple message showed on Carlton’s LENS —110 Laurel Street, June 3, 2112, 3:42 a.m. pan-eastern time. The United States had somewhat recently abandoned daylight savings and consolidated four time zones into two—pan-eastern and pan-western, P-ET and P-WT, respectively. The decision was heralded as an endeavor to eliminate jet lag but was actually the result of extensive proactive lobbying done by FCWW to streamline Window calculations. For the purposes of the technology, the law was written in such a way as to be retroactive, essentially rewriting history to site the time of a given event as occurring as though the United States had only ever operated under the two-zone system.

Confirm and delete scan.

Yes, sir. The message has been confirmed, and the scan has been deleted.

Thanks, Gabriel. Please restore normal lighting.

The office woke up, coming alive as the fountains on the side wall illuminated and began streaming like a glowing waterfall of light. Carlton had originally objected to the fountains, as the sound of running water made him have to go to the restroom, but the decorator insisted the room needed a water element.

He looked at the ring and wondered what Lacy could possibly have hidden for him to find. They had communicated like this before, the idea being to leave a message in the past with the other one opening a Reflection Window at a precise time to view it and then communicating the spatial coordinates through LENS messages to avoid anyone from the future circumventing the office’s security measures and opening a Reflection Window of their own to spy on them, but she only used this method when secrecy was absolutely necessary, and Lacy had