Ash (21 page)

They seemed to buy it, and I managed to avoid Sol the rest of the school day. When the last class ended, I made a beeline for the door before anyone could stop me to talk. It wasn’t exactly odd that I was racing off to the UV building. I went there regularly after school to do homework. But the last thing I needed was one of my friends inviting themselves along for a study session.

I found myself standing in front of the Records Room with time to spare, wishing Sol would hurry up and arrive. I tried so hard to avoid him at Spectrum and here I was waiting for him to show up already. The air conditioner hummed around me—the UV was always chilly. All things considered, the cool temperature was probably a blessing. It was the only thing keeping me alert. I tightened my cashmere wrap around my shoulders and blinked rapidly to keep the exhaustion at bay. I don’t know how anyone functioned on less than eight hours of sleep a night.

With nothing better to do, I pulled out my plexi and reviewed my class notes from the last week, trying for nonchalance. The last thing I needed was to draw any suspicion from Elba Drewn. She was the receptionist for the minister’s wing of the UV and sat just around the bend from records. The woman had a keen sense for finding out other people’s business, and was not above sharing it if it worked to her advantage.

I checked my tracker. 2:25pm. Sol wasn’t technically late, but he certainly wasn’t early. I couldn’t believe I was stuck waiting for an Ash. Lavendar, Portia, and the rest of the world would have a field day if they ever found out. The thought alone made me consider asking Elba to swipe me into the room, but she’d just offer to find whatever file I needed and put a hologram copy on my desk. There was no way I was confiding in her about what I was looking for. I had no choice but to wait for Sol.

Each second felt like hours. Finally at 2:29 he strode toward me. “Look at this,” he said. “The princess herself, waiting for little old me.”

“Shh,” I said raising my finger to my lips and gesturing my head in the direction of Elba. “Just open the door,” I mouthed.

Sol put his palm up against the sensor then entered a few numbers in the keypad and the door slid open. I pushed past him and walked inside.

I’d never been to the Records Room before. It was emptier than I’d expected. The walls made a perfect circle around me, and looked as though they’d been sculpted from a pane of white glass. The ground was made from a sheet of the same glass, though had a tint of purple shining through. A dull white circle punctuated the middle of the floor.

Sol followed me in and slid the door shut behind us. “Why, thank you, Sol,” he mocked. “Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to do me a
personal
favor. I really appreciate someone as smart and good looking as you helping me out.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re being compensated.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out three hundred ostows.

Sol’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I never thought a Purple would lower themselves to…” his voice grew hushed, “paper money. Least of all you.”

“Well, obviously you don’t know me very well,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. Although, my indignation was for show. Sol was right. I never touched ostows if I could help it. I supposed they were pretty in their own way—slips of paper that gradiated through all of the colors in the rings. But they were also dirty. I much preferred the e-transfer. Just a quick tap on your tracker and you were done. The thought of thousands of hands touching each ostow, spreading germs, was sickening. But it was a necessity today. I wasn’t planning on leaving a digital trail for someone to stumble across. I certainly didn’t need any linkage to Sol Josephson.

“Okay,” Sol said. “So what are we looking for?” he asked.

I ignored the smile that twitched the corners of his mouth. “
We
are not looking for anything.
I’m
looking for some files.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s just—”

“I appreciate your assistance with getting me in, Sol,” I said in my most minister-like tone, “but I’ll take it from here.”

Sol put up his hands in defeat, took a few steps back, and leaned against the door.

My voice came out harsher than I had meant it to, but I was on edge. I was about to find the truth about my mother. And just because Sol helped me get into the Records Room, didn’t mean I wanted him to know I had questions about my family. I hired him for a job—not to learn the secrets of the future Minister of the Seven.

I took a deep, steadying breath, clearing the last remnants of sluggishness from my mind. It was time to get to work. I looked around the room. Where were the records controls to activate the files? I could feel Sol watching my every blink. I grit my teeth in annoyance. I knew I needed to keep control of the situation. Any plan was better than no plan, I decided, and marched to the wall. I grazed my hand over its smooth surface and walked in a circle around the room, hoping I might trigger some sort of sensor to make the files appear. Before today, I’d always gotten any records I needed on my plexi or had Elba take care of it. I had no idea the room was so advanced.

As I passed Sol, he had a smirk on his face.

“Fine,” I said in defeat. “How does it work?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. He was enjoying this.

“Come on, Sol. Just tell me.”

“I thought you were going to take it from here.” He parroted my words back to me.

I could feel my face growing hot. I grasped onto my zone bracelets. I hated asking an Ash for help. Again. Although each ring had its relevance and every person their importance. I knew that. And Sol clearly had knowledge that I needed.

“Are you,” Sol began incredulously, “blushing?” His smirk split into a full-blown grin.

I didn’t know what to say. Or do. I needed his help. “Please, Sol.”

“How could I refuse a damsel in distress?”

I smiled politely, despite my discomfiture. I couldn’t believe I’d actually blushed. And I was hardly in distress.

“What I was trying to say earlier,” he began, “is that the records use state of the art technology—upgraded by yours truly.” He walked to the center of the room and tapped on the white circle with his foot. A hologram of a keyboard instantly popped up in front of him.

I pressed my lips together in annoyance. Not with Sol, but with myself. I should have realized the circle would be the system’s trigger. I joined Sol in front of the hologram.

“You type in what you want here,” he said gesturing to the board. “You can use the entire wall as your monitor. It makes it a lot easier to search when you have this much space.”

I typed in my mother’s name. Documents spread themselves out over the walls of the room. Pictures, articles, videos, sound clips—her entire life and life’s work surrounded me.

“This is where it gets really ultra,” Sol said. “You can narrow down the documents through a word search,” he explained. “Or, if you see a document that you like, just point and swipe.”

He pointed to my parent’s wedding announcement, guided it to a spot on the wall directly in front of us, and with a flick of two fingers expanded it to triple its original size. “You can make it as big or small as you want. And if you want to take a hologram copy with you, just gesture it toward you and it will appear here next to the keyboard.”

I was impressed. “You created all of this?”

“The initial software was there, but I created the motion touch sensor and sorting software.”

“That’s incredible.”

He looked down. “Thanks.”

Maybe there was more to him than I had thought.

“Give it a try,” he said.

I pointed at the document right next to my mom’s marriage document, titled Mila Sumner data sheet. I gestured for it to come to me. And just like Sol promised, it landed neatly beside me.

I picked it up and studied the hologram. It listed all the major facts about my mother. Her married and maiden name, her birthday, the day she died, her destiny, which was ‘to uncover the truth.’ There was no timing listed for when she would do this. Which wasn’t surprising. Time stamps hadn’t been discovered until several years after she was born, and in some way, not having a time stamp of my own made me feel closer to her.

Most of my classmates had a specific time associated with their destiny that told them when their calling would come to fruition. Specialists made a point of making extractions within the first few minutes from birth. The whole procedure had to be performed quickly. An injection, monitoring, tissue extraction, and analysis. But in the end, it ensured a crystal clear future for all. The longer the process took, the blurrier the details, and no one wanted that. Still, not having a time wasn’t the end of the world. I was proof of that. It just added a little more mystery.

I continued looking through my mother’s records. I glanced over her university degree, her employment history. A complete listing of her newspaper articles was available, and I tapped it open to spill the documents over the walls. I noticed some of the same articles that had been restricted from my plexi. Nothing here was flagged, I realized with relief. Although, I wasn’t about to read through them in front of Sol.

“Is there a way I can take these with me?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said. “Drag everything you want over here and I can download it for you.”

I closed the articles and moved them all to the spot Sol had indicated. If he thought this was odd, he didn’t push it. Fortunately.

I glanced back at my mother’s primary record. It even included information about her marriage to my father and, of course, my own birth and destiny.

I pulled the hologram closer. That was strange. Next to my destiny was a time stamp. It was for this year on December eleventh at 5:30pm. But that was impossible. The Specialist hadn’t extracted my destiny early enough to get a date, let alone the hour and minute. An error had obviously been made. Sol must have seen the shocked look on my face because he gave me his own quizzical look in response.

“You okay?”

“Of course,” I answered. There had to be a simple answer. It was probably just a data entry issue.

“You sure?” he asked. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” I assured him. “I bet people file things incorrectly all the time in here, don’t they?”

“Not really, it’s computerized,” he answered. “Not much room for human error. The computer reads the name on a document and puts it in the corresponding folder. I guess a mistake could happen, but it’d be pretty unlikely.”

“But what about the documents themselves?” I pressed. “Someone could input the wrong data?”

“Yeah, that could happen,” he agreed.

I let out a small sigh of relief. It was a clerical error, just as I’d imagined. My relief was followed with a flare of outrage. I couldn’t believe someone would mess up when it came to destiny. Especially the destiny of a future Minister of the Seven. Having a time and not knowing it would have been huge—especially if it came out too late. It would have caused chaos. My minister inauguration was scheduled for right after graduation when Minister Og stepped down—not this December. If I missed my destiny time, every non-believer would have used it as proof the system didn’t work—that destiny could be changed, controlled. I shook my head. “People who input the incorrect destiny information should be fired instantly.”

“No one ever messes that up,” he said.

“What?” I felt my stomach drop.

“The Destiny Specialists input the information three separate times. Once on the baby’s file and once on each parent’s file. If there’s no parent of record, they put that information on a separate sheet and input the destiny and time stamp again there. If any of the data varies an alert is sent out. Then a second Specialist looks over the records and signs off on them.”

I readjusted my wrap around my shoulder as a shiver crept over my body. I could handle this. It wasn’t the end of the world. If the records were accurate, then I had a destiny time after all. It was actually excellent news. It just meant that I’d need to push my inauguration date up and advance my studies. It was all doable. In fact, it was probably destiny that brought me to check out my mother’s data sheet in the first place. That way I’d successfully complete my calling when I was supposed to. It was an incredible story, if you thought about it. I’d tell Link when we spoke next. It was just the sort of personal anecdote to help remind him why our system worked.

I looked at the hologram again. It was strange seeing a time stamp there. And then I looked at the smaller print. My time of birth read 6:52am. The destiny extraction—7:46. For a minute, I thought my heart stopped. Fifty-four minutes for extraction. That couldn’t be right. After thirty minutes it was impossible to extract a time stamp. An hour after birth you couldn’t even extract a destiny. At that point it was too far-gone into the recesses of the brain. Something was obviously wrong here.

“Pull up my file, please,” I said through quick breaths. “I want my data sheet. My father’s too.”

Sol did as requested and handed them over.

These were different. They matched what I’d always been told—that my extraction had happened too late for a time stamp. Then why was my mother’s file different? Somehow, someone had made a mistake. They must have. And I was going to get to the bottom of it.