Authors: Brenda Cooper
Right. There was no one to answer on the Star thing. She cruised job sites for an hour and found two internships she could apply for. Only one paid, and it would require a move to Tucson. There were three volunteer positions. Not useful.
She ran through a morning yoga set of seven sun salutations with a few extra downward dogs thrown in for good measure, finally getting a little calm. Trust. That’s what her mom had always taught her. Trust the universe. Of course, her mom had done that, and all the universe returned was cancer and an ability to face the early and fairly nasty death the cancer gave her.
Better than nothing.
Yeah, right.
She chose a yellow skirt, a white blouse, and her best flats, and tucked a few dollars into a wrist-wallet. The only other thing of value she took—besides her phone in her skirt pocket—was her journal. As she headed for the metro, she contemplated what people felt like when they were going to court or on their way to pay taxes. Like she was voluntarily setting herself up to get fleeced, like she was being just as smart as whatever idiots answered emails about huge sums of money in Nigerian banks. As much as she tried to frame it in her mind as an adventure, she felt foolish and about twelve years old.
She almost got off the train and turned around twice.
The huge netted sculpture that symbolized the park came into view first, sun throwing highlights onto the odd collection of rounded metal and flowing metal mesh. When she was in pre-vet at ASU the sculpture had symbolized everything natural for her—clouds and storms and the way the desert was hard and soft all at once.
At least they’d asked her to meet them in a place where she felt at home.
The park was crowded with students, most of the tree shade taken by study groups and, in a few cases, by families out for a picnic. Rickshaw bikers sat in a clump of dark wheels and brightly colored forks and silver handlebars, talking amongst each other. She walked past them without so much as a nod. She was fifteen minutes early. Maybe she could have brought her e-reader. She pulled out her phone and then shoved it back into her pocket unopened. No one had told her where to go, so she walked. It was one of those blue-sky days when the temperature would peg under a hundred and the last snow-birds still wandered around Phoenix waiting for the winter to finish melting away from their other homes.
10:55. A couple abandoned a bench under one of the shade structures just as she was walking by. She slid into it and watched a man walking three dogs so small they looked like brown tennis balls with eyes and feet. One of the new engineered breeds meant to be carried around in pockets. Tea-cup Chihuahuas crossed with miniature corgis, improbable and very popular last year.
Exactly at 11:00 a woman slid into the open space beside her. She was small and compact, well-dressed in a flowing blue shirt of material that would stay cool in the Arizona heat and a pair of off-white Dockers. Her dark hair was bobbed just above her ears, and artsy silver earrings that sparkled a bit in the sun hung down the side of her neck. Maybe only twenty-five, really about Susan’s age. East Indian mixed with Caucasian, or something like that. She extended a well-manicured hand. “I’m Lana. Pleased to meet you.”
“Susan.” Of course they knew that, and so she found herself blurting out, “This is an odd way to recruit.” Her cheeks felt hot, but she managed not to look away.
Lana smiled. “I’m sorry. We are . . . protecting some intellectual property. That means avoiding the Internet.”
“I don’t know anything more than the usual vet student about gen-mods.”
Lana gave a small laugh. “Nor do I. That’s not the primary IP we’re talking about.”
Susan waited for a follow-on reveal of some kind, but it didn’t come.
“Can I ask you some questions?” Lana asked.
“Sure.”
“We know it’s been hard to find a job you like. We need a few vets to help us out with an experiment. We like the person you seem to be. You’re earnest, your grades are good, and you got high marks in your practical work.”
“Right.” But that wasn’t a question.
“Would you be willing to meet with us to explore a job opportunity? We’ll have to put you under an NDA, and I can’t really talk about it now. But we can promise you at least three months of pay.”
“I’m not interested in experimenting on animals.”
“Neither are we.”
“Good.” But they could be doing something illegal. Not that they’d say. She thought about her apartment and her bank balance. “How much pay, and where would I have to go?”
Lana named a figure. Higher than either of the other two jobs she had been offered.
Susan swallowed and repeated her second question. “Where?”
“For three months, we’ll be in a training facility on an island. There will be about a hundred people there. Most of them are already affiliated with our project.”
“Is this some kind of a religious thing?”
Lana smiled. The smile lit up her face, a bit of humor contained in the look. “No. But you can’t talk about it. If we see any references on the Internet, the job offer will disappear.”
A couple with three children in tow walked past them. All five were badly dressed, the children in ill-fitting shoes. More of the city’s unemployed. The woman looked exhausted, with dark circles the size of quarters making small bruises on her worn face.
“I need to know more about it before I can make a decision.”
“We won’t be able to tell you much more. You’ll work with healthy animals.”
Susan swallowed. “I don’t like secrets.”
Lana’s smile was back, this time touched with empathy. “I understand. I imagine this does seem odd to you. But look around this city, any city. The economy’s no good. It hasn’t been for a very long time.”
“There are still jobs for vets. I’ll find one.”
“Yes, I’m sure you will.” Lana’ feature settled into a serious pose. “Look, this is part of a dream that a lot of us have. It’s a good thing. We’re recruiting a few more specialties, ones we need but that we didn’t already have in our families and friends circles. I’m sorry it’s secretive, but you’ll understand why when we explain what we’re doing. It will be better than whatever else you can find. I’m sure of it.”
“Why not someone with more experience? Why me?”
Lana looked away. “We’ve researched the best students and free adults. And we like you.”
“How do I get in touch with you?” Susan asked.
“It’s a chance to work with animals. A chance to do what you love. And the people are all amazing. I promise.”
They—Lana—wanted her to decide now. Susan closed her eyes and let herself feel. That’s how she worked with animals—instinct and feeling put together with her training. She felt her circumstances, her loneliness. Whatever she did, she was going to have to move, start over with new people. Most of her friends from school had gone on to jobs or gone home already. She had neither.
“Do you have the NDA?”
“We’ll provide it to you when you meet us.”
There was an opportunity here. A real one. She could see it in Lana’s eyes. In spite of the fact she wasn’t sure she should, she liked Lana. Besides, she’d always been one to try for adventures when they came up. “Can I change my mind?”
“Of course. I’m convinced you won’t.”
Even though her practical side hated her for the movement, she held out her hand to Lana.
Lana took her hand and shook it, relief flashing for a moment across her face before the professional smile returned. “Be ready to leave in two days. We’ll send you information.”
Susan nodded, letting the decision sit inside her gut, trying to decide if it was festering or if it was good.
Lana stood and looked down at Susan. “Welcome aboard. I’ll see you in a few days.”
With that she was gone, leaving Susan to stare at the sculpture hanging over the park and watch the wind draw ripples in its netted sides.
*
The Star of Humanity surprised Tanya three days later with another invitation. It happened while she was packing up. She’d come to the realization that if she went now, she could afford to keep her belongings in storage here and take Tom and her car and head south, try to find a job in Portland or San Francisco. She knew people in both places and had arranged for crash space in exchange for cash in Portland, and found work as a housesitter in San Francisco. If neither of those cities had teaching jobs, she’d apply in some of the shrinking towns in-between.
Somebody must need a good teacher.
She would be good. She knew it. Never mind that the fall rosters were all filled up and the Seattle school district had a waiting list.
It spooked her when she opened her phone to find a message that she suspected came from Peter, as if they knew she was almost packed, almost mobile.
She stared at it.
Meet me at Pike Place Market? Near the falafel vendor? Be ready to travel.
As usual, there was no way to reply. Just the white background and the blue border.
She pocketed the phone and started folding the coats in her hall closet and putting them in the last box. In an hour she had everything in her car, some of the boxes squished up against the window as she closed the door, and no place for Tom but on her lap. Surprisingly, he didn’t protest at all as she clipped a thin lead to the collar and then held him too tight for him to squeeze out of her arms, locked her door with one hand, bent to slide the key under the mat, and got settled in the car. Tom usually hated the lead. This time, he curled on her lap so she had to push the seat back a bit to get the steering wheel to turn. “We’re off,” she said. “Ready for an adventure?”
He purred.
Three hours to get ready to travel. Who the hell did Peter think he was? It took another hour to unload the boxes she was leaving behind—physical books, dishes and coffee cups, clothes, an old computer she still needed to clear off before she could recycle it. She signed the storage contract, paid for three months, and put the key on her chain.
There was room in the car for Tom to sit somewhere else but he insisted on staying on her lap. So Tanya drove to the freeway with the cat on her lap, chewing on her bottom lip and swearing to herself that she was going to Portland.
Not that lunch would be bad. The dishes had been packed last night and all she’d had today was the back end of a box of stale crackers.
Which is how she found herself holding one fat yellow cat snuggled in her arms and walking through the tourist crowds to order a falafel. The market smelled of spices and cut fruit and stale coffee. An old busker with a long beard played a scratched up guitar so loud that she had to work to keep Tom from clawing her.
Peter came up from behind like a surprise and started walking beside her. Even though she’d been expecting him, she flinched. He looked just as good as he had in the coffee house, slightly better dressed than most of the people around, slightly better groomed.
Since he looked happy to see her, she relaxed a little. He didn’t feel like someone looking to recruit girls for a street harem or push drugs or anything. He looked like a successful tech guy, like someone from Microsoft or Amazon or Nintendo or anyplace else like that.
She stopped in front of the falafel storefront. Her plan was to eat, hear Peter out, and then leave for Portland. She’d only paid for an hour on the parking meter. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re not certain yet. I understand.”
They stopped and he bought her a falafel. To her surprise, Tom went willingly into his arms, freeing her so she could eat. It raised Peter two notches: one that Tom would go to him, and another that he’d accept a sure fight between cat hair and his expensive clothes.
The bad news was that he kept walking. They went down the stairs by the fountain and headed into a parking garage. She took her last two bites in a hurry, wanting her hands free in case she was reading the situation wrong. He led her to an elevator and up three floors. She found herself in a round room with tables. Curtains covered what must be a beautiful view of Puget Sound. There were about ten people there. At least half of them wore blue shirts of one kind or another. Like Peter. She sat down at an empty table, cat and all, and looked around. The room was pretty bare, although a pile of boxes lined one wall.
A red-haired woman with a slight tan and a splash of freckles came over and sat down beside her, holding one hand out toward Tom, who gave it a sniff and settled deeper onto Tanya’s lap. “He’s pretty. What’s his name?”
“Tom. And I’m Tanya.”
“Susan.”
Probably a Star of Humanity person. Although she was dressed in green and had goose-bumps on her arms in spite of the reasonably warm room. “You’re not from here, are you?” Tanya asked.
The woman shook her head. “Are you a vet?”
“A teacher.” She blushed. “Well, I want to be. I have my certificate. But no job.”
“I’m from Phoenix. And maybe this is a job.”
Tanya swallowed. That explained the tan on someone so fair. “Maybe it is. But I thought they wanted teachers.”
Before Susan had a chance to answer her, a thin man with a ghost of a beard came by and set two pages and a pen down in front of each of them. How quaint. Paper.
At the front of the room, a young woman with dark hair cleared her throat and started staring down the room, demanding silence with her sense of presence.
“That’s Lana,” Susan whispered.
There were only five people in the room with papers in front of them.
The woman’s voice suggested she was used to talking to crowds. “Good morning. I’m Lana. We’re glad you have chosen to trust us this far, to consider joining us. I know you’re looking for more information, and I promise to provide it. First, let me explain why we are keeping a secret. Then, we’ll go over the documents on the tables in front of you. Those are non-disclosure agreements. If you choose to sign them, we’ll share information with you and then you can decide whether or not to join us.” She paused, as if for effect, and smiled, adding, “And we hope that you
will
want to know more about what we are doing.”
Tanya expected them to introduce people next, but Lana just kept talking. “There are some dreams that are bigger than the current social structure can support. There are problems that we have not been able to address, some that we will not be able to correct in time, in spite of heroic efforts by many individuals, and by some NGOs, companies and countries. In fact, the Star of Humanity was born out of companies doing the hard work to create sustainability, to solve hunger and disease and change our energy usage patterns.” She paused, pacing the room and looking at the possible recruits. “Efforts to find a sane balance inside of the geo-political situation we all find ourselves in will continue.”