The OFFICERs Bureau (Sterling x Jess Incognito)

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Frank's demeanor mediated easily between his tired and vigilant personas. It was as close to "normal" as others might have ascribed. His posture was shifted onto one side, his left elbow upon the white, sheer tablecloth. Frank's hand cradled his jaw as he watched Liza consume the fresh meal with ravenous devour.

The confusion must have appeared rude when Liza thanked Frank for the meal. In all his years of service, or so-called private life, he could not recall the last time anyone had ever thanked him for anything. The sole exception was TELEstream, who shored Frank's approved efforts with the assurance of a doting diva. That hardly counted, at least in light of Frank's nascent struggle to define the validity of what his life had become. Liza began eating without a response from the man, which meant she offered her gratitude willingly and genuinely. The woman tore into the dinner of roasted chicken and failed to notice Frank lifting his head from the shelf of his chin, and nodding slightly in acknowledgement to her gratitude. Energy appeared to return to Liza with every bite she took, the vegetables being the next victim of her hunger. The food seemed to banish the sleepiness from Liza, and would for only a short while. Frank wanted for Liza to infiltrate her old residence fully alert so the pilfering could be completed quickly and efficiently.

Another round of confusion that bordered on shock attacked the OFFICER's senses when Liza spun the platter and offered him a chance to eat. The scope of her thoughtful consideration rocked the foundation upon which the tenets of the society was based. For all the rhetoric of achievement and the alleviation of suffering, there is little in the way of true inter-personal happiness and, more importantly, sacrifice. One must never give up, but always take. In another life, Liza would be guilty of voiceless heresy. She was guilty of that crime in that moment, but it paled against the larger chorus of rebellion they both colluded towards. Such a simple thing, Frank considered. In truth, Frank did not think he was hungry and accepted the platter out of good manners, but soon found he was very hungry himself. The OFFICER rarely ate a proper meal, and his sustenance typically consisted of whatever remnant morsels could be found in whichever OFFICER Shelter panties he happened to be assigned for the night. He found he sub-consciously mistrusted TELEstream's"concern" of his health, fearing he would be called to perform observation while in a restaurant when all he wanted was to dine in peace.

"Thank you," Frank said. He flipped the chicken over and took the fork Liza had been using to harvest the tender "oysters" from the bird's backside. Frank closed his eyes at the intensity of the delicious flavor, then consumed some carrots before laying down the fork upon the table. He felt pleasantly disposed toward the young woman, and an broken smile tried to break between his lips. The gesture lasted but a few seconds. Frank thought it awkward and ugly, and had the temerity of a combustion automobile sputtering to life, only to surrender to the inertia from which it came. He returned his gaze to the platter in self-consciousness, and launched upon a new subject.

"No, I don't have any of Mr. Holofeld's photographs. After you retrieve your medicine, I suppose I could bring you to his apartment, if you so desired. Once you've rested, I actually wanted to take you to where he took the photographs." Frank picked up a spear of asparagus with his finger and took a bite. "I hear it's quite lovely."
 
Liza would later not remember exactly how the restaurant was furnished. Only that it was nice. In her memory, there would be only Frank and her and the meal between them. All else became a passing haze. She smiled in return, a lightness flushed through her face temporarily alleviating the dark circles and tired skin.

"I'd like that," she said. Her voice left her lips quietly, floating on the heavy atmosphere of the time and their intentions. If she could see the place Mr. Holofeld spent his time then the photographs didn't matter. She tried to ignore his reminder in the silence that followed. She found herself watching Frank. A stranger in an apartment. Not her apartment, really, just the place she happened to be staying. She wasn't sure she considered it much of an intrusion even then. But here they were, not a few hours later sharing a meal. And there were things they needed to do.

The waitress returned and cleared the meal when they had finished it, a clean plate sparkling in the dim lighting. She asked if they needed anything else, but Liza left the answer to Frank. He was the only legitimate citizen in the room, after all.

"I'm ready," she said when they were left alone again, "Let's go." She didn't move, however, waiting for him to lead the way.
 
The waitress glanced toward the OFFICER as she gathered the dishes. Frank shook his head in decline, eyes glued on the polished surface of the table. He gazed upon Liza's faint reflection, thinking of where he might deposit her once their errand was complete. The chances of evading TELEstream until Liza found what she needed were high, since Frank commanded enormous standing within the OFFICER community. Liza could be sent to dwell with the heretics, or perhaps one of the fringe groups reputed to subsist outside the auspices of the society.

One fact remained certain, Frank would not survive the end of the month. At least, he thought, I can save one person. I can save Liza. The pile of drones and corpses he's created left little room for mercy or the fretting of self-preservation. Frank Harper had sentenced himself for the crimes he'd committed, and the punishment was death.

Frank's eyes met Liza's when she declare herself ready. The OFFICER welcomed not only her statement, but tone. It conveyed an positive attitude to the tasks ahead, an disposition markedly improved from the one in the apartment. Liza would need every ounce of discipline and zeal to overcome the emotional hardship to come, and return to the nest of benign lies from where she originated. Her former parents' home would likely be empty, but even in an empty prison, a former inmate still sees only bars.

The ends of Frank's lips turned upward a fraction, and he scooted himself out and opened the door for Liza. He recalled how she had leaned upon him when they arrived and felt a strange satisfaction that she walked taller, on her own two feet. The hovercar started automatically when the pair approached, and the gull-wings swung upward ready to accept the OFFICER and his ...

Frank cast a side-long glance toward Liza. What was this woman to Frank, he wondered? They were breaching dangerous waters, but he was enabling her deviant curiosity. But, her deviance came from a core, inquisitive impulse that felt more natural with each passing moment. Were they co-conspirators? In a way, that was the most apt description. Frank pondered how easy it was to become non-compliant, and lent credence to validating the deviance, rather than the convoluted society from which one split.

The hovercar dove beneath the melange of traffic to less frequented transit ways. A red blip pulsed upon the console. "We'll arrive at the house in seven minutes." Frank gently foisted the implied decisions upon his passenger. Frank's eyes turned toward Liza softly. "Do you want me to accompany you?"
 
Liza sat upright in her seat this time. Electricity crackled between neurons. Her legs and arms tensed and when she realized this she forced them to relax, but they rose to tension again in minutes. She was aware only of the movement of the vehicle, not through sight, but feeling. Frank drove swiftly and she felt that she knew each move before he made it. She knew her way home.

She turned her head at the sound of his voice, but not far enough to see him. Only his hands on the controls, the red blip flashing dimly. "No," she responded to his offer, not immediately but not with pause. She said it firmly, "Only a small thing, shouldn't take long." It was late. Her parents would be snoring softly in their beds. She didn't need Frank on her heels and she wanted to be in and out as quickly as possible. No, she thought again, it wouldn't take long.

The hovercar slowed to a stop and lowered to the ground. She waited patiently and then pushed open the door. Once out she turned back to look at Frank as if she had something to say. "Okay," she started, "See you soon." The temporary farewell was awkward, but she shut the door and turned to face the house. These buildings were much different than the city from where they had come. This was the sprawl, where the upper middle class could live if they chose to escape the city and its dirt. In truth it wasn't much cleaner. They resembled homes of the twentieth century somewhat, but were in the end merely copycats of shape. The materials were all wrong, modern and sleek bent over a dusty, mottled form. The houses sat tightly packed together and close to the roadway. In this way the buildings stretched over her, strange beasts crouched around small prey. The darkness hung low because of it.

Liza found herself on the doorstep, lingering for a moment as if she had forgotten the next steps. Her fingers closed around the doorknob and she waited for the faint click that meant she was recognized and the door unlocked. Her fingers stayed pressed to the indents on the knob a second longer than they needed to and the click sounded again. This time she twisted and pushed it forward, staring into the dark room before taking a step. Liza glanced back at Frank, but only saw the tinted windows of the hovercar.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside and she crossed through rooms with familiarity. To say nothing had changed was incorrect unless you meant that new things continued to pop up and replace old things. A new chair sat in the living room, a large mirror in the hallway where a painting used to hang. The Abramson's world hadn't shifted in not knowing anything about their daughter's whereabouts. By the look of their home, things seemed to continue on as normal. A feeling she couldn't name welled up in her abdomen. The sturdy stairs did not creak as she climbed them to the second floor and her steps made no sound on the carpet. She did not feel as if she was breaking in, but she thought she should.

Straight to the bathroom and into the case behind the mirror. There it was, the little white bottle. She grabbed it and put it in her jacket pocket without looking at the label. She knew it was right. Her vitamins, as she had once believed they were. She stuck her head out the door and glanced both ways. Nothing made a sound. If anyone was home, they weren't aware of her presence. She scratched at the door frame with her thumb nail, knowing it would be simple to go right back out in her own footprints. If someone heard her going down the stairs, she would be out the door before they made it into the hall. She went the other way however, down to the end of the hall and pushed open the door there on the right.

In the darkness, she looked around at her old room. It was the same as she left it. She almost wished it had been transformed for another use. In that way, she would know she had been forgotten completely, but it was untouched. In a sudden movement, she went towards the closet and ruffled through the clothes, so many clothes. She threw off her dirty clothes, those she had walked the city in, and left them on the floor for a clean pair. When she left, she didn't bother hiding them or taking them with her. They remained on the floor between the closet and the bed. It occurred to her that she might clean up the evidence of her visit, but she felt as if the moment she stepped out the door she was going someplace far away. The moment she returned to the heavy night air, she was untouchable.

She slammed the front door shut with a bang and did not look back to see if a light turned on in the house. There was a relief in doing such a thing and she walked to the hovercar with a normal pace. "Got it," she said quickly once in the passenger seat, "Let's go."
 
The OFFICER settled into the plush confines of the hovercar's driver's seat. The micro-mesh material pulled against his shifting weight, retracting back in resilience. Frank was nervous. He was not certain what he should be nervous about or why; he was though. Frank's heart pounded in his chest, and his pulse resonated in his eardrums. The OFFICER's eyes followed the young woman without deviance, absorbing her every movement with obsessive intensity. Liza marched up the steps without hesitation. Liza looked to peer around less from concern, but more from a curiosity---the way a bird flits about branches with discursive attention once freed from captivity. Fearlessly, Frank thought.

Soon, Liza disappeared into the darkness of her former home, and the stoop was empty once more.

Extending a finger with robotic precision, Frank flipped a black-stripped switch on his console. The hovercar dampened all of its exterior lights and set its repulsor fields to minimum. Stealth mode was a useful tool when staking out a suspect or situation where pursuit or escape was an option. The isoflex-plutonium fusion engine took ages to fire up, and keeping the vehicle operating was standard procedure. As the world inside Frank's hovercar began to dim, a faint red glow grew from the console. The red glare crawled up Frank's impassive form in the dark of his vehicle.

<<Frank ... we need to talk.>> TELEstream's voice was pointed and brief.

"Your timing is impeccable."

<<As is your service record, which is in jeopardy by helping this asset. I understand Mr. Holofeld was traumatic for you, I'm sorry about that, Frank ... I really am.>>

"But?"

<<But, there may be a point in the future when you'll need to ... terminate the asset.>>

"Her name is Liza," Frank seethed, "and no one will end her life ... Is that clear?"

An awkward silence ensued. <<Frank, if you're not careful, I might become jealous.>> TELEstream's tone transformed into a teasing siren, hinting at a sexual tryst that would never happen. <<It's late ... You should get some sleep.>>

"Taking care of that soon," Frank said.

Frank twisted his head when he heard a sudden slam. His heart froze, and when he saw Liza he released a breathe he did not realize he was holding.

"Harper out."

The gull wing door lifted when Liza revealed herself, and the soft interior glow beckoned. She climbed inside and affirmed that her quarry had been caught. If circumstances were different, Frank would have considered Liza a perfect OFFICER candidate. He gave a lopsided smile without teeth, then shifted the hovercar to motion.

"Time to rest, Liza. We'll arrive at a safe-house in ten minutes."
 
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The vehicle she lowered herself into felt more familiar than her childhood home and Frank somehow friendlier than the figures that rose angrily from their beds in that same home now. She blinked sideways at his casual smile, chin lowered into her chest from looking at her hands. This thing they were doing still didn't have a name. Their relationship with one another was more intangible than even that in her mind. He had convinced her to trust him, that was all she could say certainly and perhaps only for the time being. Packed tightly into the warm hover car with him, all was taken care of. She feared only the morning and what sense it would bring.

Liza clicked her nails together by pressing two thumbs tip to tip and slowly pushing one beneath the other. A layer of broken dirt lined the underside and she tried to scrape it out with another nail. She looked up absently at the scene moving along past them. The lateness did not affect the traffic flow. She reached a hand into her pocket, pulling the bottle of medication into her lap without tearing her eyes from the world beyond the windshield. It turned in her fingers and she felt the smoothness of the plastic and then the paper label. She got it open, looking after shaking the contents into the palm of her hand. Three. Three small, pink pills.

Liza resisted the urge to look over to Frank. He drove in silence, focused on the path ahead. He had facilitated everything thus far. She felt suddenly the pang of burden. The pills slid quietly back into the bottle when she pushed it down into her flesh. It was capped and returned to her pocket. In the morning, she thought, in the morning she would say something.

"Mr. Harper," she said almost inaudibly, wondering about where they were going. She wondered about what they would do next and she wanted to know the truths. It was a childish will that almost made her ask for all of it in that moment. They were both tired. Her eyelids grew heavy once more, no longer fueled by their late-night meal. It could wait. "Nevermind," she decided after a moment of silence, somehow quieter. Liza laid her head back on the seat so that she only saw the ceiling and a strip of the windshield. She focused on the simple details to stop herself from sleeping. Where the soft ceiling met glass, the visual texture of it. Maybe if she weren't so tired she would reach out and feel it, too.
 
The need for sleep harried the OFFICER as Frank sped Liza from the house into the future that awaited them. He drove fast and hard, forcing the hovercar into an acceleration that sunk Liza into the soft confines of her seat. The road they followed soon became aerial, veering off and up like a stray filament. Massive anti-gravity circles prefaced the route ahead, and the hovercar shot along the roadway that threaded each levitating shape like a lofty ribbon through grommets. The interior of the circles glared with bright, white light that flooded the hovercar interior in episodic flashes. The UV-coating on the windshield deflected the harsh effects of the strobe at bay, and it was then that Liza addressed the OFFICER. The call of his name came softly and eluded his attention.

"Nevermind."

The OFFICER squinted his eyes in absolute concentration. Frank thought Liza had spoken, and he eventually offered the slight twist of his head as a sign of acknowledgement. His attention probed for a question that was absent. He yawned as the track-road ended and they arrived at the series of low barracks atop a mountainous commercial-industrial structure.

The buildings were few in number, and spread apart in a perfect grid formation, and each structure rose two levels above the nano-steel and concrete environment. Near each building, a vehicle could be seen powered down and settled for the night. Frank craned his head, as if searching for something known, finally pulling the hovercar alongside a barrack deeper within the complex. A warning-cone—a hollow, triangular prism—glowed an ominous shade of yellow-orange near an electrical data outlet attached to the side of the building. The OFFICER hopped out with purpose with his Prompter in hand. Frank swayed the device near the outlet, and it took on a pale yellow glow with broken bands of red. Satisfied, Frank stood and sheathed the Prompter in his jacket.

The gull-wing door next to Liza lifted as the hovercar powered down, sulking toward the ground slowly. The faint whirl of the hovercar's dying repulsor fields accompanied the pair as they entered the building. The metal cladding of the interior defined the main hallways, and bands of off-white ushered them toward a hallway lined with a series of rooms. Each room contained two sets of bunk beds—the crisp linens and fluffed pillow allured as each bed retained a distinct, chamber-like glow.

Frank inspected each room to verify they were alone. When he returned, a calm washed over the tired man. One that could have been mistaken for sadness. "We're free from TELEstream here. You may speak and act as you please. Down there are the bathrooms and showers." Quite absentmindedly, his hand rested upon Liza's shoulder. He surprised himself with the gesture, and found her shoulder bony and her frame frail. Liza's physical reality caught the OFFICER off-guard. He thought for a moment before continuing softly. "I'm staying in the end unit ... Habit, I suppose." His words came hesitantly at first, then intensified with quiet ardor.

"You're free, Liza. Your Choice belongs to you now. You may sleep wherever you wish. Good night."

Frank gently squeezed Liza's shoulder before retiring to the end room, portal wide open, spilling light into the hallway.
 
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Liza and Frank stood together in the corridor for what seemed a long while. His hand rested on her shoulder, not gentle or fleeting as a stranger's, but heavy as he allowed himself for a moment to rest on her as a comfortable familiar. She looked up at him while he spoke and watched as he walked away. It wasn't before he walked halfway down the corridor that she echoed his last words, "Good night."

Liza remained, feet planted just in front of the threshold, feeling the echo of the pressure of his hand since removed. The metal clinging to the walls felt stark and unfriendly. A tired repulsion to the cold, impenetrable surroundings moved her forward slowly. The light pooled in the doorway of Frank's room welcomed her more than the darkness of the one adjacent, but she chose it anyway out of propriety. She sat on the long edge of a lower bunk in the darkness as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. Her exhaustion, even with the opportunity to sleep, felt incurable.

After a few minutes, she took off her shoes. Her fingers wrapped around the heel and pulled each off slowly. The slowness with which she took off her shoes and jacket, bundling them up neatly near the leg of the bed, became ritual. For the time it took, these actions became more restful than the prospect of sleeping. She pulled up the neatly spread cover and slipped under. A thin row of clerestory windows hung from the ceiling and through them she could see only a deep blue that was the sky. It must have been smoggy or cloudy or both, because she couldn't see anything but a haze.

She lay restless. The cover, so neatly made up before, twisted between her legs and around her waist. In a half sleep, she couldn't quite figure out how to unwrap herself. She may have fallen asleep for periods of time, how long she didn't know, but woke between the intervals and saw the blue haze outside the window. She thought it seemed brighter each time than before. After some time she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and felt the coolness of the floor on her bare feet. The blanket untwisted when she stood and she held it over her shoulders like a cloak and gathered the small bundle at the foot of the bed. In the darkness, eyes struggling to open, Liza found her way to the adjacent room. She took one look from the open doorway at the bed Frank slept in before creeping over to the other bunk to set down her things. With both blankets over top, she settled into the mattress and stared at the dark lump that was Frank across the small room. For a long time, perhaps, but at some point before she realized, she finally slept.
 
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Betty Harper knocked again upon the bedroom door. It was the fourth time today, the twenty-third time this month. "Frankie?" she asked. Her muffled voice found her son's ears through the ribbed, metal door. The nine year old boy sat upon a patterned carpet, playing with a construction set as the door rolled upward. His mother entered with a pained look, one made more poignant by her son's glare. "Frankie ... I'm ... seeing someone in a few minutes," she said quietly.

"You need me to stay in my room again?" The question came laced with a mature sense of duty typically found in a soldier.

"I do," she said softly. She crossed her arms and entered Frankie's room, taking a seat next to him upon the finely-knit carpet. "Frankie, I know you miss daddy. But, ... the men who come to visit want to be helpful. Can you understand that?" Her hand reached out, and dragged across Frankie's back with infinite tenderness.

"I suppose mother. I just don't ..." Frankie's mind snared in an awkward hesitancy, a torrid cyclone of feelings he failed to comprehend and refused to accept.

"What is it, son?"

"I don't understand why they need to hurt you. I don't want them ... I don't want anybody to hurt you!" The boy's cry was defiant and charged with an intensity of emotions matched only by his deceased father. The recollective scene flushed Betty's complexion ruddy, and tears rimmed her blue eyes.

"No ... No one's hurting mommy," she said.

"Why can't it just be you and me? We don't need anyone else ... don't you love me?"

The doorbell echoed within the apartment rooms, more hollow than before. Betty wiped her bleary eyes with the length of her sleeve, choking back a sob that threatened to crack her facade she propped for the gentleman waiting outside. "Of course, I do, Frankie!" She looked quickly as the doorbell came again with impatience. "Everything you need is in the cooler." She kissed the top of his head and departed, closing the ribbed door behind her. Muffled talking could be heard as Frankie returned to his construction set. The boy displayed an unusual propensity to merge items that were not manufactured to be compatible, and always executed interesting items in accord with his own designs. His latest invention fit in the palm of his hand with a mounted cylinder. Like a weapon, but more so—a multi-faceted utility gun. Frankie looked up as the ribbed door shot open once more.

"Hey, Tike! How's my little man? Remember me?" The well-dressed man squatted down, his shimmering blue, iridescent tie hanging straight down. Frankie saw an inverted noose.

"Charles." The boy spoke with knowing authority. The man blinked in surprise. "Why, yes. Charles ... aren't you a bright one?" The man looked down at the bricolage creation in the boy's hand, and Frankie only saw thinly-veiled distain. "That's so ... interesting. You realize you can have your mother buy you components that are supposed to go together?"

Frankie tilted his head at Charles. Even at a young age, Frankie knew Charles was an insufferable idiot. Frankie endured the overtones of non-compliance for as long as he could, knowing once the charade ended, the man would retire with his mother to her bedroom. As if on psychic cue, Charles presented a box from a hidden bag. Frankie accepted the box with a half-smile. "Thank you, Sir."

Satisfied he'd fulfilled the required modicum of affection, Charles ruffled Frankie's hair, then led his mother into her room. Frankie remained on the floor, legs growing numb. He tried to rise, tossing the box into a darkened closet containing twenty-two similar gifts from various men. His mother's bed began creaking sooner than usual; most times, there was some talking before the lewd moans and cries ensued. The raunchy rhythms masked the sound of Frankie leaving his room, creation in hand. The fanciful weapon lifted before him, and he imagined Charles standing before him as he pulled the trigger.

.................................................​

The OFFICER woke with a start. He sat up and quietly rubbed his eyes against the unbearable light of the morning. He glanced at the neighboring bunk to find Liza still asleep. Her choice of sleeping locale was not lost on the OFFICER, and he gathered his still-warm blanket and laid it over Liza's deeply breathing form. The room harbored a chill that infiltrated one's very bones. Frank rubbed his arms briskly, then sat down in a mesh chair. The dream was still fresh in his mind. He was surprised he still remembered Charles.

When young, the naive Frank Harper could not understand why the various men paraded through his mother's bedroom and realized, only later in life, that the men were suitors. Single individuals consumed far less than couples, exponentially so, and TELEstream meant to correct this imbalance. Males of technical compatibility were invited by the AI to visit his mother and encouraged to consider matrimony. Eligible bachelors shamelessly abused the system, and simply conducted a series of wild romps as they went from bedroom to bedroom. That was considered acceptable, and Frank wondered if his beloved mother ever felt like a whore. But, he could never bring himself to blame her. The voice in his mother's ear-piece was the sound of her own mother; it nagged, reminding Betty that capturing the attention of a wealthy man was the best way to love her dear son. Ya worthless doll, how else are ya gonna put food in that kid's mouth? Frank hated remembering those days and the concerted degree of base manipulation. Fucking TELEstream, Frank seethed.

Frank remained for sometime in the mesh chair, allowing the optimal time to shower come and go without concern. He lowered his head into the cradle of his hands, elbows set on planted knees. He knew his actions that day would push TELEstream over the limit of its patience protocols. Frank quietly stood and headed to the shower down the hall, the water not quite washing the film of shame and self-hatred that coated the OFFICER. It never did. Frank returned to the bunk room more quickly than he departed, and breathed easier at the sight of Liza still asleep. Once dressed, he returned to the mess chair and his eyes shifted to Liza for sometime.

The contraption Frank made as a boy was in his hands then, but it was not a toy. It was a real weapon. Black-handled under a cylinder of stainless steel, the engineered weapon was the exclusive armament of Frank Harper. TELEstream tried many times to convince Frank to surrender the design for mass production, even promising ample financial rewards. Frank refused.

The OFFICER calmly sat, weapon out, vigilantly watching the doorway until Liza woke.
 
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Liza woke, eyes on Frank's empty bunk. It took her a moment to find him. She lay very still, watching him for a few minutes. Some mornings, Liza used to wake not quite ready to face the day. Sometimes she needed to pull her eyes open with her own fingers. Today, in the OFFICER's safehouse, her eyes went wide and stayed without effort. Free of exhaustion and hunger, she saw Frank for the first time. His focus was intent on the doorway she remembered somewhere past the head of her bunk.

"Frank," she said, still not having moved an inch. Her eyes rested on his, but in her peripheral the weapon he held was plain. "How long have you been waiting?" Sleep for her had been necessary, but she had no sense of the time lost in it. Frank did not seem alarmed or tense, but the need to be armed was real to Liza. She hadn't paid attention to where they were or what the building was, but this being the first she saw of it in daylight, she understood they wouldn't be able to stay for long. He could have woken her, she wanted to say, but it didn't make much difference now.

For the first time she remembered, she wasn't thinking about having this, that or doing anything. She didn't know their agenda for the day so just in that moment, she didn't have to worry about it. There would be time. She knew the feeling would soon escape her.

Liza sat up slowly, pushing the pile of blankets back. She looked back at the doorway, staring for an extended minute. Frank expected someone, or at least did not want to be surprised if someone did show up in that doorway. "Where do we go from here?" she asked, watching him. She relinquished the atmosphere of freedom by admitting there was much to do. The morning felt slow. She spoke and there was a pause between them, during which they were both contained in themselves and also wholly with one another. Neither fidgeted in boredom or pulled at hair absentmindedly, rearranged their shirts or let their eyes wander. Between the two of them, even back in her apartment, it seemed it was alright to watch and make no excuses for the curiosity. Her eyes glinted a flecked, warm brown in the sunlight streaming in at a strange angle through the small windows and she tried not to blink at it.
 
The OFFICER cocked his head, sweeping his gaze of warm gray eyes to where Liza had awoken. Their eyes met. The ends of his lips upturned, then leveled in a fit of automatic self-censorship. Frank felt his heart beating when Liza asked how long she'd been asleep. "It doesn't matter," he answered, Because I would guard your slumber for an eternity. Frank paused then, and puzzled at the intensity of his own thoughts. A nervous swallow betrayed nothing he could fathom, and he was grateful when Liza asked about the day.

"After you ... shower and we eat, we'll be searching for your parents. I expect we may find them later today or tomorrow. It may be optimistic, but I have my suspicions of where we might find them ... and finding people is what I do well." Frank paused again. "We can stop at the Wilderness on the way there. The location where Mr. Holofeld watched and photographed his birds." In truth, Frank had been looking forward to seeing the GreenSpace since mentioning it Liza the day before. The open span of nature had not entered into Frank's thoughts while pursuing the elusive Mr. Holofeld. Now, Frank wanted to visit the open wilderness as a tribute to the man who gave his life rather than be captured; the man who chose to die free, rather than live enslaved.

The light dimmed in Frank's eyes and he stood, returning his weapon to a holster at his back. The mesh chair was in his hand and Frank set it near the bed with soft strength, as if afraid the noise from setting the chair down might disturb her. He sat, lifting his fingers into steeple and sighed. "Liza ... after we find your parents, I need to find a sanctuary for you. There are many outlying populaces known to OFFICERs, but never broken up. We can establish you in a more distant one where you won't be bothered by TELEstream again. It won't be an easy life, but it will be one that is free. I promise to see you safe before we part."
 
Liza noted the intensity in his eyes and listened quietly as he spoke of their next steps. When he grew quiet, she nodded slowly. "Alright," she said, her admission of the plan. She did quite want to see the birds. In all her life, she suddenly realized she had spent very little time outside the city. Forms ended harshly at lines and the ground below always clicked at her steps. The softness of the sunsets she watched the days before did not belong in such a place.

..before we part, he said. She didn't know why, but his words struck her. The thought of their separation had not come to mind before then. She felt there was too much ahead of them to consider after, but now thought that may be due only to the vagueness of her own future. Frank, perhaps, had much in mind beyond her. She felt guilty for thinking, in any small form, that he hadn't.

Liza rose and gathered her small bundle. "I won't be long," she said before disappearing from the doorway. Down the hall, she showered quickly with no urge to stand and enjoy the warmth of the spray for long, as she normally did. When she turned the knob, the water stalled to a trickle, falling silently into the drain and its void. In new skin, covered with goose pimples from the cold, she stepped out. A small mirror mounted to the wall above the sink was just enough to reflect her head and shoulders. Droplets still clung to her cheeks and nose. The lighting filled the small room with a dingy whiteness and made her dark eyes pools of void like the drain. The woman staring back at her appeared strange and foreign. Pores, peach fuzz, eyelashes curved so slightly upward, one mislaid on her cheek. She didn't swipe it away. It was stranger to be so interested in her own appearance.

Liza tore her gaze away, not certain how long she had been looking. She pulled the bottle of pills from her jacket pocket. As she had always done, she popped one in her mouth and swallowed without water. Taking it felt dutiful. Liza wanted to feel anything but, and yet this condition tied her to duty and responsibility and in that, society. TELEstream had always delivered the medicine on time. She looked at the bottle and the two pills remaining, dark shadows though the curved plastic.

The bottle safely back in its pocket, Liza returned to the room and stood just inside the doorway.

She hesitated to ask, "Where will you go?" After, she meant. Her hands hung in the pockets of her jacket feeling cold and bony.
 
The lithe woman departed to the shower, and Frank considered their situation in the tacitly tactical manner for which he excelled. Visiting the Green to observe the plenitude of bird was more of a lark. Am I becoming funny? the OFFICER mused wryly. Frank sat, bemused, for some minutes, having temporarily returned to his accustomed condition of abject solitude. He stared at the open portal, the memory of Liza's silhouette burned into his retinas. Part of Frank Harper wanted to be rid of the woman; he could feel himself unraveling in profound ways, ways he could not fully describe or understand. But, another more powerful part of his resolve had been engaged, and Frank would literally perish to provide Liza with every answer she desired and protect her from harm. Soft footsteps announced Liza's return and roused Frank from his thoughts. He managed a smile. The character of his gesture could have been misidentified as insipid, but it was the most genuine feeling Frank had mustered since knowing the woman. That smile, however, quickly faded before Liza's pointed question.

"Where will you go?"

The more pertinent question would have been "Where can you go?" To rebuff the auspices of TELEstream was a matter of curiosity when the errant was a citizen. However, when an OFFICER decided to deviate from the path of societal service, the message was more than discourtesy, it was a declaration of rejection, akin to all out war. With knowledge came volition; a citizen was simply misguided, but an OFFICER intentionally forsook their responsibilities and role as the mechanism that perpetuated society. Without OFFICERs, the world of distracted consumption would crumble with the inevitability of caked mud eventually blasted away by the evening rain. Precisely what happened to non-conforming OFFICERs was something of a mystery, but Frank heard of fates too gruesome to openly recall.

He swallowed nervously.

"I ... I don't know, Liza." The OFFICER spoke the truth, not revealing that he expected to be dead by weeks end. But, that was a fate he had earned, the one he deserved. Frank Harper did not matter, and had expended any reasonable claim to life for his role in perpetuating the dominance of TELEstream. However, the tone in Liza's voice touched Frank, as did the shine in her eye that she tried not very hard to disguise. The incrimination she hinted at ripped Frank's heart in places that TELEstream's emotional-affection sub-routines had failed to reach after decades of calculation. Frank closed his mouth, unable to speak, finding himself suddenly aware of Liza's gaze upon him. A faint dizziness blurred the OFFICERs conscious mind for a moment, and he began to collect his remaining articles in a quietly desperate need to distract himself.

"We should be going. Gather your belongings."
 
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Liza stood frozen, in the halfway space between room and hallway. She saw every beat in him. Frank's answer was short, but her question had not settled right on him. His words, his eyes, perhaps his aura if such a thing exists, seeped with black thoughts. That momentary leak planted in her a feeling of sorrow. Strangely enough - sorrow.

Frank she almost said, almost stepping forward into the room by some urge to offer him something she and most of their society never offered anyone. Liza did not know the name of this feeling, but what she felt was empathy and what she would give was compassion. She didn't say anything, however, stopping before a sound crept from her open mouth. He spoke first and the gust flew past without her. An aftertaste remained, but the inspiration left her where she stood.

Liza complied with his order silently, finally moving into the room to scoop up her small bag. That was all she owned now. No sounds reached them in the small box that was their safe house. The air was devoid both of nature and of man. No wind and no rumblings, either. In the quiet, their footsteps should have echoed in pops and clacks, but that, too, sounded faint as they made their way down the hall. Outside the light blinded her, more so because of the pristine concrete environment which enclosed them. The night before, in her exhaustion, she hadn't noticed the numerous buildings, exact copies of the one they had just exited, dotting the space. Refreshed and awake, today she would pay more attention.

She walked behind Frank and a bit to the side, watching the three quarters profile of his features for those black thoughts again. He had shifted gears or pretended to very well.

She stopped around the passenger side of the hovercar, tucked into the shade of the building. She looked up at its second story, squinting still from the reflecting sun all around them. She decided she didn't like this place. The bare openness, buildings spread across like dice on a tabletop then perfectly arranged by a careful thumb and forefinger. Something there felt disconcerting to Liza. Her eyes travelled down the bare exterior of their unit to Frank on the other side of the vehicle. She knew as soon as he turned on the car, TELEstream would enter their company and Frank would have to speak with it as he had the night before. It had been easier to ignore, exhausted and starving.

Liza wanted badly to say something, but no words came. "Frank, I should tell you," she started, remembering something, "The medicine was only three days worth, and I took one this morning." That mission seemed as if for nothing, very nearly nothing. She knew they couldn't stand outside as they were for much longer, so when the door swept open, she didn't hesitate to climb in.
 
Withholding the truth about his fate gripped Frank with an unexpected disgust. He was being deceitful to Liza, ostensibly for her own good, and what should have been an endearing gesture of self-sacrifice left a patronizing taste in the OFFICER's mouth. But, his newfound shame was only the beginning of Frank Harper's tribulations that morning. The entity known as TELEstream fired the dashboard an angry shade of red-orange discontent. Frank wasted no time fishing the headset for the telepathic conversation to come, dialing up the communications suite as he activated the hovercar. It silently rose to a meter levitation.

<<FRANK! Where the hell have you been?!?! Your pøng signature vanished from all of my sensors at 11:36pm last night. I thought something happened to you.>> The eroticism of Frank's version of TELEstream was replaced with a dire urgency and concern that may very well have been genuine.

I'm fine, I'm fine. Liza and I stayed in an OFFICER's quarters ... now that it's daylight, it appears that the connection relay was damaged. Frank pulled the sleek vehicle out into a wide track of expressway. I recommend you send someone to repair it immediately.

<<Is the woman still with you?>>

Yes. Liza is with me. Which reminds me, we're going to need another regime of her prescribed heart medicine.

Silence was the initial reply. A tension, charged with a million petty nuances, lingered before the first tactical move was set into motion. <<No.>>

What did you just say?

<<Frank ...>> The female voice drove into Frank's mind less husky than brawny. <<I've tolerated this project of yours long enough. I'm doing this for your own good. This ... woman ... is having a negative effect upon you. No further medicine will be provided. She can either perish from a heart attack or you can end her life yourself ... I'll leave that decision to you.>>

Frank slammed on the deceleration fields, and the internal servos whined furiously in protest. Frank veered the vehicle off the moderately busy transit avenue into a restricted alcove. His disgruntled face became steely and his heart beat with the rhythm of sequential artillery. Lines of musculature exploded along Frank's jaw as he clenched his teeth to contain an escalating rage. Hands shook, curled with friction upon the steering wheel with unmistakable grievance as his eyes narrowed to a decision.

The driver's-side door swung up and Frank darted out. The front of the car split open, like a metallic book, to reveal the engine and internal wiring. Frank dove into the myriad wires and electronic components. He reached in, and yanked hard three times. Liza could feel the hovercar lurch forward with every pull until a wretched breaking sound came from under the hood. Frank stood tall and casually discarded a metal cylindrical onto the side of the road. When he returned to his seat, he turned to Liza and opened his mouth, as if to begin speaking. He ceased the feeble attempt, taking a short comfort in the attempt.

"We should arrive at the Green in ten minutes." The hovercar returned onto the expressway only to peel away for good onto an artery road, uninhabited by other vehicles.
 
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Frank said nothing and Liza waited until he had gotten in the vehicle himself before following. She was looking for some sort of response. His silence felt strange, though it was not as if she could claim it was unusual. She couldn't know that much about a man she had met less than twenty-four hours ago. He melted into his own world and drove calmly for awhile. Liza sunk into the cushion of the seat and watched scenery fly past. She let Frank have his time, knowing he was talking with his TELEscreen. She ignored it for as long as she could.

The hovercar's velocity shifted sharply. Liza put her arm out on the rest and sat up forward and straight. She looked over at Frank, trying to stifle the alarm on her face, but he saw only the path ahead under colors of anger. Her weight rested on one elbow and her fingers gripped the armrest, skin stretched tight between white knuckles. She forced herself to relax. She wanted to trust the man driving. Once at a stop, Liza sunk back into the seat. She couldn't see what Frank did under the hood, but after her confusion she thought she could guess.

Her eyes followed him when he reappeared on the side again, calm and composed. His eyes turned and met hers. Brow creased and eyes wide, she waited for his explanation, but it no sound escaped his parted lips. He returned them to the expressway, returned himself to motion and their path, but Liza didn't look away from him. She waited, hanging in the moment he had left behind. His words floated past her and away before she could decipher them.

She lifted her hand to rest on his shoulder across the cabin, thumb feeling the hardness of collarbone and fingers on the meat connecting arm to back. "If anyone else had come, I -" she broke off. She spoke of the OFFICERs. If any other had responded to her dissent, she would be either dead or unliving. "I'm thankful it was you and I owe you for whatever comes after," she whispered, "Even if -" Even if it was only death in the end. She did not register their surroundings, hadn't noticed that they had arrived in the Green. Her heart beat strongly in her chest, but it was not an alarming thump, only a certainty.
 
The breath in Frank's lungs froze the first instant of Liza's touch, but then immediately thawed into an easy, regular cadence. The feel of her squeeze on his shoulder felt natural; it felt human. The anger from TELEstream's ultimatum bleed away to a calm, resolute serenity as a final deep breath expelled the last remnants of his umbrage. Frank's head swiveled to regard Liza's brown eyes, which bore into him with deep compassion and gratitude. A hand floated from the steering wheel to gently grasp the one on his shoulder, and he brought it between them. Frank felt Liza's touch, her warmth, and the texture of her skin. It was in that moment that Frank surrendered himself to his highest state —the inevitable, emotional maturation that began the moment he laid eyes upon Liza— and finally, after decades, relaxed.

The Green spread wide before them, and composed a fitting backdrop to the psychology of the former OFFICER. A verdant plain of placid grass spread out in gentle curvature of controlled pastoral grace. The Green was a perfect, 1km diameter circle of turf, cropped impossibly short, upon a geologic plateau. A forested ring of trees and shrubbery skirted the uninhabited perimeter and danced with rustled life in the slightest breeze. The fringe of that forest continued level, like The Green, then the groundplane grew uneven and craggy. Erratic boulders and outcroppings defined the outer limits of the mountain slopes as they descended below the terraces of traffic and building dedicated to an assigned purpose of greater import.

The hovercar had traversed a wobbled, spiral road up the mountain-side, through the forested edge as it came to a paved clearing. Frank set the vehicle in park and leaned back. He surveyed the stillness about them for signs of other people, but found none. The Green was meant to be a museum piece, an exhibit to distract the more romantic notions in the culture of the masses. The genius of TELEstream detected that parts of the human spirit could be piqued, then summarily assuaged, by brief contact with the natural world. Though the preservation posed no threats, humans seemed to thrive on a deluded, adversarial relationship with nature. Waterproof jackets must be worn, headgear wth telescopic and infrared capabilities must be donned, and the latest in ballistic firearms must be carried—all problems which TELEstream eagerly remedied with manufactured solutions.

Frank did not feel threatened by The Green as he sat holding Liza's hand. He had cause for worry about actual dangers being mobilized against him at that moment by TELEstream, but chose to ignore the stress. Frank's fingers activated in a kneading motion, tenderly massaging Liza's hand, almost trying to decide if she was real. His gray eyes broke from their joined hands and he gazed at her with a mixed look of trepidation and longing.

"Liza ... We're both fugitives from TELEstream now. I'm no longer an OFFICER, and whatever auspices we enjoyed are now gone. I had hoped to delay this ... inevitability until we had made more progress finding your real parents, but some things can't be helped. So, we're similar, yet very different. TELEstream will search for you, but will hunt for me. My fate is sealed, and I can't stand the thought of you being harmed or caught because of me. "

Genuine words from the heart rarely came from Frank Harper, and had not seen the light of day since he death of his mother. Fingers grazed the skin of Liza's cheek, and Frank was surprised to find they were his own. "I'm glad I found you, also. I need you as much as you need me ... perhaps more so. I promise to protect you, even if to the last thing I do."
 
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Liza breathed deeply to stretch the tightness across her chest. Each word between them penetrated the great silence in low, steady syllables. His fingers grazed her cheek, curling gingerly across her skin. There was something in Frank's face which she hadn't seen before. As if she had never truly looked. His features, though unchanged physically, maintained a different quality. This feeling of true acknowledgement of a person, she had experienced only once before in her mother the day she questioned her about the found trespasses. There she discovered an indifference, though it had been present always, was never noticed. In Frank she found a man living.

"It won't be the last," she said, hanging on those words in the following silence. She wrapped her fingers around his against her cheek. Her head rocked back and forth almost imperceptibly. Thick lashes rested against the dark skin beneath her eyes when she closed them. She imagined this venture only as triumphant for the both of them. She wanted very much to believe her imagination, but in truth the way forward remained dark to her. Any words came only from a stubborn resolve.

"Come on," she said steadier, opening her eyes to him, "I want to see the birds." She let go of him to climb out of the vehicle. The Green space took her in the wind and surrounded her. Never in her life, did she stand in a space so wide. The city with all its twists and turns, expressway laced through buildings and layers of traffic could not sustain such a place. Though her world had always been made of color in all its fluorescence, neon, and glow, she hadn't realized how synthetic it was until she saw now.

She could not go far before meeting rail and an edge that turned steeply into mottled landscape. She didn't think. Her shoes left the pavement, one at a time as she climbed the waist-high barrier. Earth cracked beneath the soles of her shoes as she stepped down on the short space between concrete and cliff. She wrapped an arm around a thin birch whose roots poked out, claiming what earth they could. From here, there stood only the beyond and nothing between. The beyond retained no name and no descriptor capable of encapsulating all that happened there. It did not extend forever, she knew, but all the same she felt that it could be no less than everything.

In that same minute, a flock of starlings rose from the trees below. They were not many by the standards of birds in flock, but Liza couldn't know that. They danced together in a tight form, waving figure eight like a flag led on a rod. She didn't see the large birds of many colors Frank had described from the dead man's photos. From here the starlings were grey forms, but their organized dance exceeded the beauty of each alone.

Liza glanced over her shoulder to see if Frank had found them, too.
 
Liza's footsteps could be heard trailing off across the road, snapping twigs and crunching leaves with every footfall. Those sounds became fainter as Frank tried to pull himself from the vastness of The Green. He stood alone, swallowed by the enormity of the verdant spatial void, which stretch with the sublime power the heretical Leviathan.

No, not Leviathan ... Levisthan's that tyrannical bitch, TELEstream. What am I thinking of?

A moment of burning hatred consumed Frank over the manipulative AI that, until recently, was his lifeline to reality, as well as his own sanity. The Green sprawled with the span of an oceanic horizon, and ate away at those unspoken limits within the former OFFICER. His mind gave way to an awareness of TELEstream's reluctance of wisdoms beyond the purview of its hegemony, those proscribed tenets that threatened the docile mind of the masses. Leviathan—a monster from the depth of antiquity; yet, still another aquatic reference swam in the sea of Frank's callow knowledge of the heretic's Bible. There was a man ... Jonah, and the whale that consumed him for three days and three nights. Liza only has three day to live.

A pulse both enervating and motivational rippled Frank into action. He spun, turning from the ocean of grass and headed into the forest. "Liza?" Frank called out in a tone of mild worry. His companion was nowhere in sight. "LIZA?" He called louder then, blood pumping hard —whipped on by a rush of adrenaline— nearly disabled his mental faculties. Frank's hands began to shake as his legs fell into the lush spurge about his feet. The hem of his gray coat snagged on various branches of smaller trees of graceful structure and dappled effect, pulling Frank, yanking him from his charge. The trees, the wind, the birds he'd come to see, all seemed to conspire against his search for Liza, blaring their cacophony of natural rustling and song.

Frank stood upon a rock outcrop, tall even among the mountain's geologic denizens, and found her. Liza had climbed over a guard that looked out of place in the natural milieu, and stood at a steep precipice, pondering. Frank gasped, then shut his teeth, watching her intently. She hadn't noticed him, in spite of his inelegant scampering. Liza was safe, possessed in her moment of transgression, and that assuaged Frank's worry. He sat down quietly upon the outcrop, and became silent, melding into the moment.

The chitter of the forest did not distract Frank any longer; those sounds distilled and enlivened the man, reducing his natural stress to a state of resolute peace. Frank turned immobile, as a statue hewn from the very stone he sat upon, turning his attention away from Liza to the theater surrounding him. Frank watched as nature recovered from the wake of his intrusion and leaned back. He was patience. Soon, his gray eyes spotted birds returning to their play around him. Vibrant and colorful, they darted in cross-cross fashion between the trees of oak and hickory. They wheeled and danced. Frank understood then, about Mr. Holofeld—Frank realized the distraction that Holofeld sought was qualitatively divergent, and generated feeling in his soul that could never be controlled. Marveling at the avian menagerie incurred a self-investment and awakening that TELEstream could never touch.

Frank began to understand how it felt to be free.
 
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Liza stood in a world beyond reach. She heard nothing but the wind in her ears and saw nothing but the birds in the sky. Soon they returned to their roosts in the trees and the entire scene fell asleep. It released her and she drew breath as if she had been holding it the entire time she spent looking.

She turned and found Frank. She wouldn't have noticed if it had been a bear and not a man. She made her way to him, careful to disturb little by her steps. She squatted next to him, arms clasped around her knees, ankles together.

"It makes me feel like I never was," she said quietly, "Like I wouldn't be missed if I didn't exist. But," and she cocked her head, pausing. A squirrel cried in the distance; a sound like a distressed cat, but less discordant. "But not in a frightening way." Liza still feared death. She was young and wanted to live. Yet, this land would continue on whether man trampled through or no. Despite that, it was this land which held the last true drop of man. She sat back, rolling off her heels and detangling her legs from beneath her.

She glanced at Frank, barely turning her head, and knew that he felt something, too. A smile crept over her features at their shared wonderment, however fleeting it might ultimately be.

Somewhere, an animal screeched and the birds rose from the trees unsettled. A different air filled in around them, somehow ominous. It set her thoughts to grimmer subjects. "I don't think we should stay much longer," she said, anxious thoughts apparent in her words. As quickly as it had come, Liza's moment of clarity and admiration vanished.
 
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