Chapter 7

The elevator doors opened up onto floor 13, and Ezra walked into his new life.

The air had the same stale smell, but the atmosphere was somehow heavier. He couldn't tell if the decor was different, or if it just felt that way. His shoes made the slightest sound on a carpet that was softer than downstairs, having had fewer feet tread over it. It was still no match for 27.

There were no cubicles here, they had opted for an open floor plan. Fewer people. Less frenetic. The tapping of keyboards was sharper, clearer. While it felt like each stroke poked the inside of his ears, it was less overwhelming.

The administrative assistant glanced up as he approached.

"Good morning," she said with a half smile that refused to disclose its sincerity. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, Ezra Calloway. I'm looking for my new office here."

"Of course, Mr. Calloway. Right this way."

She got up from behind the reception desk and began walking past the collective of coworkers. Ringed around the open center was a series of small offices. She stopped at the third such one and gestured for him to enter.

The plaque on the door simply read, Department 4-F.

Stepping inside, he took a look around. It looked small, but felt immense compared to the compactness of floor 5.

"Thank you," he said, placing his satchel on the cheap pressed particle board desk, next to a folder marked Access Credentials.

"Of course, Mr. Calloway. If you need help gathering supplies, let me know. The closet is just on the other side there," she replied, pointing across the room. "Would you like me to close the door?"

"Please."

He walked over to look out at the office building across the street. He couldn't see in the windows, their treatment bouncing back swirls of purple and green and black. He craned his neck to try and see the street below, but there was no angle for him to get a clear view. He lowered the mesh shade, reducing the brightness just enough to not distract him.

He sat down behind the desk and booted up the machine. The familiar startup tone punctured the silence. The welcome screen had all the same components, but something was off. It was stretched, or warped. Like the images hadn't been calibrated to account for a wider screen.

He opened the folder to find a list of internal systems and his clearance level beside each. A few had been highlighted, but one was completely redacted. They used a heavy black marker which left ripples in the paper from the ink bleeding through. Why even print the line, he wondered.

A figure flew past the glass pane in the door. Too quick for him to see who.

His inbox was empty, not even a welcome message, so he started to click through the admin panel. The structure of the system was the same, only different options in the dropdowns. Searching through them, he found the command he was looking for, fresh batch import.

The first few files were routine. Storm damage, petty theft, a burst pipe in a house with a zip code he didn't recognize. All processed by different adjusters. All within the past six months.

He flagged one to look closer, Doll Auto Leasing. He double clicked the file, and in an instant he thought he saw the green light of his webcam blink.

He returned his attention to the claim, searching for something he wasn't sure even existed. The file was for a fire, a total loss. The firm representing the client was Maxwell Impera LLP. The report felt mechanical, each word appeared to predict the next in a string that managed to read coherently.

His hand instinctively reached for a mug that wasn't there.

He stood up, walked over to the door and into the main office. A couple faces looked up and turned back down quickly. There was less background to hide behind here. Into the kitchenette, and one by one he opened the cabinets searching for the stash of mugs.

A young lady walked in. "Second from the end," she said.

Ezra looked over to thank her, but her eyes had already darted away from him. She poured the last of the pot into her mug.

"I'll put some fresh stuff on," she said. "You don't mind waiting?"

"No, that's fine. I could stand to give my eyes a break."

She gave a polite smile as she gripped the edges of the wet filter with the tips of her well manicured nails.

"I'm Ezra, I just moved up here from Claims on five."

"Yes, we were told you'd be coming."

"What do you do here?"

"Oh.. you know…"

She was too busy concentrating on counting the scoops to give him an answer.

"Actually, I don't know. I barely know what I'm doing here."

"You'll figure it out," she said, flipping the switch back on.

"Thanks," Ezra said as she walked away.

He didn't wait for it to finish before pouring his cup. A little stronger didn't bother him.

Ezra walked to his office and sat back down at his desk. The folder laid open off to the side. He ran his fingers across the blacked out line, still damp.

A second of staring, of feeling. He shook himself free and returned to the screen.

Cerebrum Cars. He opened the file.

The green light flashed again, and Ezra locked his eyes on it. Waiting for nothing.

This report had the same feel as the first. It wanted to read as though it were written by a human. Apparently a tornado blew through this small town in Iowa, leaving the dealership in shambles. Another total loss, another claimant represented by Maxwell Impera LLP.

Tommy Hodge's words rang in his ears, a whole network...

He scrolled through the list, looking for another dealership. There it was, Vic Sage Motors.

Click, flash.

Everything matched the first two, the tone, the law firm, the total loss. This one was newer than the others, just a couple weeks ago. At the bottom of the notes was the line, "internal assessment pending."

The adjuster on the claim was a name he didn't recognize, with an employee code that was one character short of complete.

He picked up the receiver, dialed #1138 for the receptionist.

Mr. Calloway?

"Sorry to bother you, but could you come here for a second?"

What seems to be the problem?

"It's the computer." He was unsure how to try to explain his feeling. "I think there's something wrong with it."

Of course.

He hung up the receiver and stared at the small centered circle of the camera.

The quiet knock of her arrival caught him off guard.

"Is there a reason the webcam light would be turning on when I open a file?" He asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Here, take a look," he said.

She walked over, placed one hand on the corner of his desk, the other on the backside of his chair. She leaned in slightly, and Ezra could feel the warmth of her body, smell her perfume.

"Watch," he said as he clicked on a file for Quick Stop Groceries. "See, nothing happens. Now watch this."

He scanned until he found PreDict Auto Group and opened it up.

"I didn't see anything, Mr. Calloway."

His phone vibrated and they both looked down to see a text from Arlo appear.

Sorry I've been busy. Coffee tomorrow? 7:30 Fitler's Square?

"I'm sure it has something to do with the new surv-" she caught herself and cleared her throat. "New security protocols."

They stared at each other for a second, their faces inches away from each other.

"I'll contact IT for you," she said as she straightened up and walked out of his office.