I Am Margaret (25 page)

“
I doubt it is,” I said wryly, but I cuddled up to him and obligingly placed my head in the requested position. I found his hands and they
were
icy, so I chaffed them briskly.

“Any joy?” I asked, once his fingers were tucked up to warm between us.

“Plenty.” Now his immediate discomfort was easing, the satisfaction in his voice was plain. “In fact, I think I got it all.”

I rubbed sleepy eyes and tried to come fully awake.

“I’m listening.”

“Right. The cameras are rolling at night—and recording—but there’s no one watching them. No point, we’re all shut up in our dorms. They don’t check the footage unless something happens—which is never—nice Sally joked they’d need to find an instruction manual. Apparently what they’re watching for in the daytime is people detaching themselves from the group while in transit—or pulling a stunt like yours, earlier.”

“Yeah, they noticed that pretty quickly. That’s what was worrying me.”

“Well, there’s no one in the camera room at night, that’s definite.”

“What about the camera over the parking area?”

“
The cameras
all
go to the camera room. Outside, it’s the human eyes you need to worry about. Facilities don’t tend to get hit very often, but the Resistance have that charming habit of killing pretty much any EuroGov employee they lay their hands on, which makes the guards jumpy. Anyway, you know the score outside. Floodlit yards, floodlit killing zone, all watched.”

“Umm. Did you find out if the card will work?”

“
Yep,” he sounded smug. “I did the indignant boyfriend bit, wanting to know how filthy Finchley was being punished—I think it would’ve looked more suspicious if I
hadn’t
asked. Seems the Captain’s put him on extra duty as punishment and the Major’s taking the cost of a new card out of his pay. Sounds like they haven’t told him how Finchley lost it. But—this is the important bit—it’s not too expensive because the Major literally had to take one out of a safe, put it in a card printer and hand it to him.”

“They’re all the same!” I whispered triumphantly.

“
Yes. They’re all exactly the same. The Major was pretty pissed off with him, even so. Losing a card is a serious offense, apparently. If it had actually been lost—rather than safely destroyed,
as they think
—he’d get the sack, ‘cause they’d all have to have new cards. Nice Sally thinks he
should’ve
been sacked, of course.”

“Well, he should be. But if they haven’t even told the Major… It won’t happen, anyway. Even with the good rates of pay, Facility guards are too hard to find.”

“Yeah, well, six month shifts, watching reAssignees come in intact and leave in little bags. I can see why they’re lining up for the job.”

“Did you find out anything else?”

“No… wait, yes, I know why laptops are forbidden.”

“
You
what?
That was the next thing I wanted to know!”

“The opportunity was just there. When we were talking about how they can watch stuff on a monitor in the guardroom all night, I said, well, can’t you play computer games on your laptops and stuff—I mean, they’re paid enough to afford them, surely—and she said they’re not allowed them.”

“Why?”

“The cameras. The whole security system hinges on the cameras. Laptops—any computers—communicate wirelessly with each other, right? Well, apparently someone with a computer and the right knowledge could hack into the camera system and mess with the feeds, so security-wise they’re a complete no-no.”

“
But… they wouldn’t be able to
tell
you had one, would they?”

He shook his head again.

“Sorry, Margo. They can. Apparently a few years back there was a girl from a rather rich family—though not quite rich enough to afford the sort of bribe necessary to save her from failing Sorting—and she wasn’t prepared to be parted from her laptop. So she smuggled it in—sealed it in a plastic bag, coated it in chocolate and put a wrapper around it—quite clever. But the moment she switched it on, an alarm went off in the camera room and they searched the whole place until they found it.”

My heart was sinking. So much for a laptop to type my hundred thousand words.

Jon went on, “The system is designed to sense any strange wireless device, you see. AudioPlayers and bookReaders don’t have wireless—they’re very simple, so they’re allowed. But no computers for anyone. Except possibly the Major and the Captain; nice Sally wasn’t sure about that.”

“Well,” I murmured heavily. “That’s awkward.”

“You were going to get Bane to get a laptop to you, were you?”

“I was hoping.”

“Perhaps he could get the wireless parts of it disabled.”

“He doesn’t know how to do that. I certainly don’t. Do you?”

“No. But I’d have thought some of his Resistance friends might know.”

“
No,” I said flatly. “I don’t want him getting in their debt. I don’t want him having
anything to do
with them. I’ll have to think of something else.”

“
You do need
something
, though, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“
I bet his friends
could
sort something out.”

“Drop it, Jon!” I snapped. He was quiet for a long moment.

“Good night, Margo.” I felt a gentle pressure as his lips touched the top of my head.

“Good night, Jon,” I whispered guiltily. After a moment I said, “Jon?”

“Umm?”

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” He snugged me closer.

“You don’t think she’ll be suspicious?”

“Nice Sally? Trust me, she was far too busy staring at my chest to remember exactly what she said. She’ll just know we talked about how boring it must be being on guard all night and how inadequately Finchley’s being punished. Totally innocuous.”

“How do you know she was staring at you?”

I felt rather than saw his soundless laugh.

“I knew.”

We lay without speaking for a few moments, then I realized something.

“Jon?”

“Umm?” He sounded sleepy.

“I haven’t actually said my prayers yet.”

“Neither have I, actually.” But the following silence was punctuated by the sound of him drawing a long breath... “Margo?”

“Umm-hmm.”

“Can I make a suggestion? As, kind of, your prayer buddy?”

“I’m listening.”

“Why don’t you stop trying the Act of Acceptance for a bit? Just for... a month, perhaps. Stop flogging an open wound and allow it to start healing. Because… no offense… perseverance clearly isn’t working.”

I didn’t answer. I hated to give up. But…

“Margo? Are you angry?”

“No, I’m not angry. Just thinking. I don’t like to stop trying, but… the open wound analogy has some truth in it...” I sighed. “All right. It’s the thirty-first of March tomorrow. I’ll leave it until the thirtieth of April, then I’ll try again.”

“Good. I know I’m not a priest or spiritual director or psychologist or anything but… I really do think it’ll help.”

“Nah, admit it, you’re just fed up of being used as a giant handkerchief.”

The soft peep of my alarm, set on minimum, woke me. Time to amend my letter. I’d brought everything I needed down to Jon’s bunk the night before, in the hope I might know what to write and catch the Tuesday post.

In the early morning light streaming through a crack at the end of the curtain, I re-read the most important passage I’d already written to Bane.

I expect you’ll be glad to hear I had an unexpectedly wonderful weekend, mostly due to having my absolute favorite meal. I ought to thank the chef
and
the waiter!

Have you seen any eagles in unexpected places recently? I forgot to mention that in my last letter. They can be quite inflexible in their habits, so sometimes the native crows drive them out and make them roost with gentler birds—you might’ve spotted one already.

Bane might not know that the symbol of Saint John was an eagle, but if the letter got as far as Father Mark he soon would. It didn’t really matter, anyway. Jon had been standing right beside me on the battlements, Bane must’ve seen him.

I squeezed my second orange segment into the little jar—it was half dried up but there was enough juice—and placed letter and notebook on Jon’s chest in lieu of a table.

“Should I stay still?” he yawned.

“Please.”

Bane, I don’t like asking you this when my short story is so unlikely to win, but if I can’t have a novel ready I might as well not have entered. I can’t write a novel in two months by hand so I was hoping you might smuggle our laptop to me, but that’s not going to work, you understand?
I cannot have a laptop, they can detect their wireless and they’re absolutely forbidden
.

But I have to have something to type on and the only thing I can think of is an antique device from the 1900s called a ‘typewriter’. It’s a sort of mechanical device for typing text. I’m afraid I don’t have any idea where you can find one, let alone one in working order, nor how you can get it to me. I think they’re quite big and I’d need paper as well. I’m sorry to be so hopeless and so demanding, but I’ll have to leave it all up to your ingenuity.

I re-read what I’d written and chewed the end of the empty fountain pen for a while as the drying lines disappeared from sight.

“Good morning, girls and boy,” called nice Sally, opening the door. Light flooded the dorm and everyone began to stir. I dipped the nib again, hesitated one last time and added:

I’ve acquired the means to move around the compound at night.

Collecting my letter from home at breakfast, I carried it eagerly back to the dorm.

Dear Margo, thanks for the story, I think it was absolutely perfect and easily the most horrible thing you’ve ever written in your life. Sue’s accepted the story all as requested, so that’s fine.

I hope you had a nice weekend, I went bird watching at last and had a great time, I took your little lion with me. I spotted that gorgeous bird and I was a rather naughty bird-watcher ‘cause I fed it, but I don’t think it did any harm. I saw an eagle near my beautiful bird, which was very unexpected. Any ideas on why the two species would be sharing territory?

Shame about Harriet’s hair straightener—I know how much she liked it. The letter before last was the best you’ve sent me and I’m still re-reading it all the time. I’m getting a lot out of it.

I slid down from my bunk, letter in hand, and climbed in to sit beside Jon.

“Okay, this is the important bit.”

I read the paragraphs to Jon.

“So the story’s gone in,” he murmured, “he spotted me on the wall with you so he knows I’m here and he’s studying the plan.”

“That’s about it, yes. Looks like he’ll understand my eagle reference, anyway.”

“So what now?”

“So now I get on with planning this novel, and we wait for Bane to produce something for me to type it on.”

“Which he’ll get to you how?”

“I’ve no idea. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

But I knew. I knew what he’d have to do. But I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t
suggest
it.

“Exercise,” called Watkins, opening the door, so we all got up and filed out. Watkins nodded cheerfully to Jon and me despite his own still slightly swollen lip. Finchley, the second guard, waited in the corridor, but he stood with his head down, not looking at any of us. A large dressing covered one entire cheek.

“Has someone cut himself shaving?” sang out Jane mockingly. Watkins let out an unusually harsh guffaw but Finchley shot me a hate-filled look—me, not Jane—and went back to glowering at the floor.

At Jon’s “Huh?” I filled him in. He snorted.

“Or one of the other guards has slugged him one,” he muttered.

“D’you think they would?”

“
Watkins might’ve, don’t you think? I mean, if he was younger...”

True. Well, it was clear no one felt sorry for Finchley, including me. So he’d got a hurt cheek. He’d live.