Monaco, 2025 and Chicago, Year 38
The Remote Observatory was not, officially speaking, somewhere that Allie was supposed to be. Then again, she spent a lot of her time these days in places that she wasn’t supposed to be, and at least here no one was actively hunting her down. The very worst that might happen here was being escorted out by Security, and she’d had the impolite version of that at the casino plenty of times — most likely, anyone who saw her would just tut mildly and carry on with their day.
She carried on through the sterile white corridors, passing offices and meeting rooms that were largely empty this early in the morning. Dodging round a vacuum cleaner that had been left in the middle of the carpet by a cleaner who’d presumably just stepped away, she finally reached the refreshment area nearest Chloe’s viewing chamber. Finding no one there, she proceeded to fix herself a coffee.
As she sipped at the mug, she glanced at the clock on the wall. Chloe was running behind schedule, which was usually a bad sign. Allie started pacing in clockwise circles, as though doing so could encourage the hands of the clock to go the same way faster.
There might be something in that, she realised — further research was required. The finer details of the mathematical structure of time, especially in relation to human perception of it, still eluded her. She’d tried to talk to a few other Cognoscenti – at least the ones who were still talking to her – about the issues, but their perspectives hadn’t been much help. She might have got more out of them if she’d been honest with them about the reason for her enquiries, but that would be far too risky.
She was three quarters of the way round her nineteenth lap of the beige carpet when she nearly walked into Chloe.
“Sorry I’m late,” Chloe said. “I had to file a report.” Before Allie could even frame the question, she went on, “Don’t worry, dear, nothing to do with what I’m about to tell you.”
Chloe was one of the Observatory’s best remote viewers, but even she only glimpsed things partially and momentarily, as the equations aligned themselves in her mind before losing coherence again. Any actionable intelligence was only ever gleaned by combining the partial reports of dozens of operatives, so they had to record anything they found that wasn’t entirely routine for the analysts to pore over. Relying on a single Observer, as Allie was about to do — even when it was one as skilled as Chloe — met with strong disapproval. But then Allie wasn’t part of any formal structure; officially, she wasn’t even in Monaco.
“So what did you see?”
“The safe house is under surveillance,” Chloe said. “Not the fun kind, mind you.” Allie’s skills didn’t tend to lead her towards situations where the equations became tangled with the manipulations of others, but it was an occurrence all the Observers encountered from time to time — though only a few, like Chloe, seemed to relish it as a sort of gladiatorial combat. The big unanswered question was whether they were coming from other enclaves that had held out against the worldwide anti-mathematical purge, or whether any of the secret agencies working within the countries that had signed up had remote viewing programs of their own. Hypocrites. “Just regular boring binoculars and walkie talkies and all that.”
Allie swore. “I’ll have to use the alternative location. I don’t suppose you–“
Chloe cut her off. “It was hard enough getting that much for you. It’s up to you whether you want to risk it.” She smiled. “But then, I’ve seen you playing roulette.” Roulette was the only game Allie let herself play when she visited the casinos, the chaotic motion of the ball defying any reasonable attempt to analyse it in the time frame before it landed. Not that the owners saw it that way — she was banned from each and every one.
Chloe was right, though, in knowing that Allie would take the risk to visit Chicago. The study group there was one of the largest in North America and she knew that she was more than a teacher or a mentor to them, she was a symbol of hope. It had taken Allie a long time to become comfortable with that idea; it still kept her up at night sometimes if she thought about it too much.
“You had better get going,” Chloe said. “The morning shift will be in soon and not all of them like you as much as I do.”
“Thanks,” Allie said. “I owe you one.”
Chloe laughed. “One day you will let me cash in all of these favours, I am sure.” She leaned forward and gave Allie a kiss on the cheek that lingered slightly too long for it to be just a farewell. When Allie didn’t move afterwards, Chloe tapped her forearm. “You really should go, my dear.”
Allie nodded and headed back out of the labyrinth that was the Observatory, following the invisible string she had laid down in her mind long ago. The debate as to whether the layout of the place was intended as a security measure, a way of helping get the Observers into the right mindset, or simply just very bad design, had rumbled on since before it was even finished without any clear conclusions being reached.
As she was nearing the exit, she saw Madame K, one of the political oversight appointees and probably the single person here most opposed to Allie’s extramural visits. Before she could say anything, let alone call Security, Allie gave her a cheery wave and called out, “Don’t worry, I’m just leaving.”
Madame K started to fume, but Allie was already on the way out. As she emerged onto the waterfront, the sun was just climbing above the horizon, casting a rosy glow over everything from the masts of the yachts in the marina to the hotel windows to the ECM drones flying overhead on their constant mission to jam the propaganda signals beamed in from all directions. There were still occasional moments when the world managed to catch Allie by surprise with its beauty. She stopped for a moment to take it all in.
Even as she did, though, she was figuring out time zones on an almost subconscious level. If it was sunrise here, it was getting late in Chicago. That had its advantages, especially in terms of avoiding being seen, but also disadvantages. Her contact there, Locke, for all his hero worship of her, had been showing increasing signs of nerves on her recent visits about the chances of someone catching on to his clandestine activity.
Sighing, she turned away from the waterfront and went into the nearest hotel lobby. A brief bit of flirting was all it took to talk the receptionist into letting her use the toilet even though she wasn’t a guest. As soon as she had locked the door, she dropped into the fugue state which enabled her to use her abilities. For years, she had had to be deep in meditation — or imminent extreme danger — for it to work, but with practice and determination she had got herself to the point where she was able to do it whenever necessary.
Her eyes closed, the outside world faded. But in her mind’s eye, everything was alight. It was as though she were one of the prisoners in Plato’s cave, finally able to turn and see not the shadows nor even the objects that cast them, but the fire itself, a blazing inferno of pure truth.
She turned the equations over in her consciousness, recalling from the depths of her memory she had committed them to the co-ordinates of the backup location in Chicago in three different systems. Visualising how they intersected with one another, bringing that together with the appearance of the place, she translated herself.
Even with her eyes still closed, she knew it had worked. The cool breeze blowing past her onto Lake Michigan carried the faint scent of traffic fumes and her feet were sinking slightly into the beach, much more yielding than the hotel floor she’d been standing on just before.
Allie opened her eyes.
Looking up, she saw the ruins of the museum, her anchor point. A miserable, depressing sight, but she’d learnt long ago that strong emotions made it easier to bring a location to mind, and the places she needed to visit were full of similar reminders of the purge.
Looking around, she checked that she was alone, and no one had seen her sudden appearance. There was a homeless man huddled up in the lee of one of the boulders that served to screen the beach from the road a little, but he seemed to be asleep.
Still glancing around in case of any other passers by, she walked briskly to the payphone that still stood outside the ruins. She fumbled for the right coin in the collection of international currency that filled her pockets and dialled Locke’s number — yet another string of digits she had committed to memory. “Pick up, pick up,” she muttered into the handset as it continued to ring.
“Yeah, what?” was the reply that finally came. A young woman’s voice — she remembered that Locke had mentioned a sister.
Paralysed for a moment by trying to work out how to deal with the unexpected answer, Allie didn’t say anything.
“Is this you, Kevin?” the voice on the other end of the phone went on. “If you want my help sneaking back in again after being out with your mysterious girlfriend, you can forget it.”
Allie was about to stammer out something about having got the wrong number, but the handset was already purring in her ear after Locke’s sister, if that’s who she was, had slammed the phone down.
Allie swore to herself. He must already be on his way to the main rendezvous point, if he hadn’t got there already and got himself arrested. She’d known he was young but when he’d described himself as a student she’d assumed college. The way his sister was talking made it all sound much more high school. But then, she and Soph hadn’t been any older when they had got themselves involved in this sort of thing.
She sprinted a few blocks, then flagged down a passing cab — a risk, but a calculated one. She practically flung herself into the back and gave an intersection that was, if she hadn’t muddled the geography, a block or so further on from her actual destination. She could travel through and assess the situation before deciding what to do.
They had only gone a few blocks when she saw a kid walking along the road. “Slow down a second,” she told the driver, who gave her a quizzical look but did as she asked. Leaning forward to peer into the rear view mirror, she checked out his features. False alarm — not Locke. “OK, keep going.”
“Look, ma’am, I don’t know what kind of shady business you’re into–“
Allie pulled a wedge of paper currency from the inside pocket of her coat, then pulled out a hundred dollar bill from in amongst the francs, marks, naira, pesos, rubles and rupees. She handed it over to him. “Shady enough that I’ll happily give you this to stop asking questions.”
He raised his eyebrows, then took the money and pocketed it with a shrug.
They were getting closer to the meeting point now; the study group had taken over a warehouse that had been disused for years, ever since the company using it for export trade had gone bust. It was basically a glorified squat, with all the books and other teaching materials Allie had brought them, along with an increasing number that they’d been able to scavenge themselves, locked in the safe in the manager’s office when not in active use.
“Slow down again, please.” The driver obliged, giving Allie plenty of time to take in the scene. No obvious signs of surveillance, but that didn’t prove anything. As they rounded the corner, she caught sight of a figure looking nervously around, repeatedly tapping his foot.
This time it was Locke. “Back a bit.” The driver crunched through the gears to find reverse. “OK, stop.” Before the cab was even stationary, she flung open the back door. “Kid, get in!”
Locke looked at her in terror and tried to wave her off. That told her everything she needed to know.
“Now!” she said, and had never been more glad of his ridiculous deference towards her than when he obeyed, clearly against his better judgement. “Drive!” she said, and the cab accelerated away at pace.
“You don’t understand,” Locke said, stumbling over his words in the rush to get them out. “The cops–“
She put a finger to his mouth, shushing him. Then she mouthed, “Did they make you wear a wire?”
Locke gulped then nodded. She mouthed again, “We can use this.” Then, projecting her voice as much as she could so that the microphone would definitely pick it up over the noise of the taxi squealing through the late night streets, she said out loud, “Don’t worry about the local cops, they won’t be able to pin anything on you. It’s only if the EEE are involved that we need to be concerned. You’re going to have to lie low for a while, stay out of trouble. But the rest of the group can go to the alternative site in Humboldt Park.”
Locke had gone from bemused to amused as he caught on to what she was doing. There was no alternative site, and the jurisdictional pissing contest that would ensue now that she’d mentioned the federal authorities would tie their efforts up for weeks.
“Listen,” the driver interjected, but Allie slipped him a further three hundred before he could get any further. Whatever he’d been about to say was replaced with a low whistle.
Allie nodded at Locke. Catching on, he extracted the recording device from under his clothes and wound down the window just long enough to throw it out.
“I don’t know what the hell’s going on,” the driver said, “but I think we have company.” He nodded at the rear view mirror where two — no, three, as another swept in from a side street — cop cars were in pursuit, lights flashing.
“How much to take the kid to the border?”
“What, another six hundred will make it an even thou? Let’s say that,” the driver replied at the same time as Locke said, “I can’t go to Canada!”
“Sure,” said Allie, thumbing through her money once again. “And sure you can, kiddo. It’s great there, well, as great as anywhere that’s signed up for intentional ignorance anyway. Make your way to Toronto if you can, there’s a pretty well-established underground scene there.”
“But won’t they try to extradite me?” Locke’s eyes widened. “Wait, that’s just another layer of obfuscation, isn’t it?”
“Now you’re catching on,” Allie said, more light-hearted than she felt. “But do your best not to get caught, hey? No worries about extradition then.”
“I guess,” Locke said uncertainly. “But can’t you …” He tailed off, but she knew what he was asking: could she take him along for the ride when she made her own escape?
“Doesn’t work that way,” Allie said. “Sorry.”
“You guys are into some real dangerous stuff, aren’t you?” the driver said.
“We still good? You’re going to take him to the border, right?”
“Your money’s good, and I don’t much care for the cops, as it happens. If they haven’t closed off the bridge, I’ll take him.”
“Good man. Unless you fancy a Canadian vacation yourself, they are going to want to talk to you when you come back — just tell them you were acting under duress, I threatened your continued existence on a fundamental level, all that sort of thing. They’ll believe practically anything about me these days.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Locke put in.
“Breathe, kid, breathe. It’s all going to be fine. I’ll put the word out to the Toronto crowd to be on the lookout for you.” She got out her money again and passed him some Canadian currency. “This’ll help. Sorry, I nearly forgot about practicalities like that.”
“Is it true, then?” Locke asked. “What they say about bank vaults?”
“Nope,” Allie said. “I have to have seen a place first — remember the first time we met, I’d caught the Greyhound? That’s the worst part of all this, certainly the riskiest, getting to places once so I can revisit them later. But when it comes to the money side of things, there are much easier ways of going about it.”
“I hate to interrupt,” the driver said, “but all of this is going to be extremely hypothetical pretty soon.” He nodded at the rear view; the cops were closing in.
“It’s me they want,” Allie said. “Slow down, not too much, just enough–“
The driver realised what she was planning. “You’re crazy, lady.”
“That’s what they keep saying about me,” Allie said with a grin. “But that one might just be true.”
“Your funeral,” the driver said as he touched the brakes lightly. As the cab slowed, the lights of the cop cars filled the rear view with their flashing red and blue. Allie pulled open the door and dived out in a barrel roll.
Somersaulting over the road surface, she sustained a whole new set of bruises to add to her collection. By the time she had stumbled to her feet, the cab had sped off into the distance and the cops were standing and crouching with their car doors for cover, each and every one of them aiming straight at her.
Perfect. Her self-preservation instinct was definitely engaged at this point.
“Put your hands up,” said someone in charge through a crackly megaphone.
She kept her hands firmly down.
“Hands up or we shoot.”
Allie smiled at them, not that they could see it; to them, she knew she was just a silhouette.
“This is your final warning. Surrender now or we will have no choice but to shoot.”
Allie closed her eyes as she heard safety catches being cocked.
By the time the bullets flew through where she had been standing, she was half a world away.