85 — Noise to Signal

A week had passed since the cadre had survived their long night, and defeated Delphiné and Jossimer’s plans.

For a time it seemed as if nothing had changed. One Benefactor was dead, another missing, but beyond that, the delegation would continue as it had for centuries. There were other Benefactors, and as Jossimer had said, the organization had weathered rebellions before.

But then, something did change.

It was first noticed by one of Natalie’s informants, and then quickly confirmed.

The Lodge was gone.

Most citizens would never notice. The exterior wall was still present, but it was an empty shell. If looked at from above, which was not impossible to do from several nearby taller buildings, one could see that the shell was hollow.

What was more difficult to see, visible only to one directly above it, was that the hollow space left behind descended into the earth, leaving a cavernous space below it of indiscernible depth.

Whatever secrets the Benefactors held under the structure had been hurried away, along with the lodge itself.

Natalie and Emmett’s networks probed for eyewitnesses and a timeline. It was said that during the small hours of the night, the moon obscured by clouds, the entire dark structure rose into the sky, like an obsidian pillar that seemed to never end. Yet, it did end, and once fully emerged, it moved silently laterally, heading towards the taller mountains to the northwest, where it vanished from view.

Contacts who still had access to delegation business were interviewed, probed, or pressed. None had answers, and Jossimer had still not resurfaced.

Sheam and her family speculated that it was a direct result of their freeing of the Giant.

The theory was that the Benefactors could not imagine that it was truly free, or that it was a thing that could be. They imagined that the cadre had taken full control over it. Why would they imagine otherwise? It was what the Benefactors would do.

The Giant, in the hands of their enemies, posed an existential threat, and so they protected their remaining most precious asset — the lodge, and the machines that lay deep below, which a Benefactor could use to re-manifest old delegates; copies of ones who had come before.

This would change their society, but it had changed before. It had lasted a thousand years, sometimes ruling openly, sometimes manipulating the world from the shadows. It clearly had protocols in place to ensure its own continuance, and this was one.

The delegates assigned to their roles throughout Rivton had apparently received no new instructions. They were to remain in the dark for the time being, and continue their work. 

Beyond Jossimer, the identities of two other Benefactors were known, thanks to Emmett’s long investigations. They were Reginald Coolish, the judge, and Adrien Blanc, the banker. As best as anyone could tell, nothing about their situations had changed. They continued to maintain their cover, both to society and the rest of the delegation. It was possible that they were as in the dark about the lodge and its fate as the rest of the delegation.

There was a fourth known, surviving Benefactor, however.

Grégoire Layne approached Sheam’s office at the far northern tip of The Circle. He held a dossier under one arm which contained information about radio transmission devices. He had been told that his allies wanted to learn more about this kind of technology.

It was late dusk. The Circle did not yet get much foot traffic, but visitors were slowly becoming more common. Normally they would be told of closing time and encouraged to leave, and then the building locked up when it was empty.

Tonight they had been ushered out.

Tonight, in a sublevel, two quiet figures sat in a newly minted command center, listening, observing, with hands on the controls.

Tonight, after Grégoire had passed through the main entry hall, unbeknownst to him, all of the radio locks clicked shut.

Four had gathered within Sheam’s office. The space was not small, but the crowd would give a sense of claustrophobia to any fifth who entered.

There was a terribly large and stunningly muscular woman sitting on the corner of Sheam’s desk, facing the door, arms back behind her, with one leg crossed over the other. She kept her eyes locked on the door, steady — almost like a statue.

Another stood with their back to the door, behind and to the right of the desk, looking through the window as the sky faded from warm purple, to black. Their hands were folded behind a cream jacket, with shoulder-length ginger hair spilling over the back of a pink and gold cravat. They fidgeted, anxiously.

A third was seated in a corner to the desk’s left, in a chair that had been moved there just for him. He leaned forward, both hands resting on the top of his favorite crutch. His eyes were tired, and bore a gravity that encapsulated the room’s heavy atmosphere.

Sheam herself sat exactly where one might expect; at her desk. Tonight however, the desk was clear of work or other business. Rather than pouring over documents or ledgers, she leaned back in her chair, wearing her tophat. Her habit had always been to put it on a rack by the door, so the sight of it on her head within her inner sanctum would likely tip off a visitor that this was no ordinary meeting.

As Grégoire entered the space, he may have noticed the dark specks between the cracks of the floor’s stonework — bits of blood, both Sheam’s and Delphiné’s, that resisted being washed clean.

He looked around, taken aback by the gathering, blinking, adjusting his glasses. “Sheam, I— Oh, hello, Emmett, Nate—” and finally he added, with a nod of deference, “and Kaite.”

“Have a seat, Greg,” Sheam said in a disarmingly casual tone. She indicated the chair across from her desk. It, like the chair Emmett sat in, was a new addition.

Greg sunk into the plush cushions, but continued to glance around at the unexpected gathering. “I was expecting Tony,” he said. His body shifted to the left in the chair, as if trying to put additional space between himself and Kaite, whose crossed leg was very slowly swaying directly to his right.

“We’re keeping this just among delegates,” Sheam said, uncharacteristically. She finally leaned forward, her hands folded neatly before her on the surface of the desk. It, too, had been scrubbed to remove the traces of her blood. “You brought the research?” she asked.

Grégoire seemed to grow at ease at the indication that this was a secret meeting of an in-group, and he was within it. “Yes,” he said quickly, and opened up the folder. He quickly thumbed through several pages of detailed schematics and large blocks of texts. “With this, Tony will be able to improve the com’asks tenfold. Though—”

Sheam raised her eyebrows.

“I do find it peculiar that I am not delivering this information directly to him.”

Grégoire’s face had traces of perspiration. It wasn’t unexpected — the heat of the summer day would last well into the night, but the room was remarkably cool, and he had already dabbed himself dry with a handkerchief before entering.

“Tony can’t be with us just this moment,” Natalie — though Grégoire still only knew them as Nate — said curtly. “But he is able to speak with you. Here.” Natalie turned around, and set a com’ask on the desk. “Put it on, he’s waiting.”

Grégoire blinked and adjusted his glasses, first looking at Natalie, then Sheam, then Emmett, and then daring to look up at Kaite. He saw eyes like charcoal staring steadily back at him. She bore a strange, slight, yet uncharacteristic smile.

“I see,” he said. The way he trembled as he reached for the com’ask betrayed his realization that something was off. He gingerly strapped the mask into place, and spoke. “Hello, Tony? It’s Greg.”

“Hello, Greg,” Tony began, with an odd heaviness to his voice. He then cleared his throat. “Rivton was founded in the year one-eighty-one OWR, though its history stretches back for centuries before that. Originally five different cities, the oldest of which possibly dates back to—”

“What, what is this?” Grégoire asked, confused.

“Shh,” Sheam said, finger to her lips. “Listen — do you hear that odd sound?”

Grégoire stopped, and focused.

He put the meaning of Tony’s words outside of his attention, hearing only the quality of the sound.

Then, he heard it.

“Ah!” Greg said, brightening. “Yes, I do, a sort of noise in the signal — a hissing? A distortion! Oh, goodness, of course — yes, the notes I brought will certainly help you sort that—”

“Hold on,” Sheam said, “Keep listening.”

Grégoire resumed listening to Tony, “— in fact, these original five cities pre-date the forming of Annulia itself as a nation state, which took place far later, in six-hundred-sixty-four OWR. The building you’re standing in—”

Sheam then held out her hand to Emmett. First he leaned back to shift his weight, and then carefully placed his crutch against her open palm. Sheam lifted it, and then handed it to Kaite, who handled it in a way that resembled a riding crop.

Grégoire kept listening, but was clearly distracted by the movements of the crutch before him. Then, in a motion that made his entire body tense up, Kaite slowly lowered the arm-brace of the crutch to the side of Grégoire’s face, centimeters away from the com’ask.

His face lit up as he heard it. “My, word… not a noise in the signal, but a signal in the noise! It’s coming from the—”

Greg’s eyes then went wide, and his face white. Kaite would have been able to hear a small crack as his jaw clenched. He blinked rapidly, glancing between Emmett, and Sheam. He didn’t dare look up at Kaite.

“That crutch was a gift, from you, Greg,” Emmett said, finally breaking his silence.

“Kaite first noticed it while trying to save our lives,” Natalie continued.

“And then Emmett loaned me this crutch while I was recovering,” Sheam added. “I know how a com’ask should sound. I brought the issue to Tony at once.”

“That,” Grégoire began, though he seemed to be struggling for breath. “Explains why the troops and police were able to get to the trolley station so quickly. A signal like this… it can be tracked from considerable distance.”

“Not just quickly — before us,” Kaite corrected.

Greg swallowed hard.

“It also explains how they discovered the Cantina,” Natalie said in the type of calm, even tone that one only manages through great effort.

“You— you don’t think I intentionally—?” Greg said quickly in a raised voice.

Emmett began, in their usual warm tone and cadence. “Greg, the documents you brought will prove that you could have created a radio signaling device small enough to fit into the workings of my crutch, but I could have told them all of that without the proof. Tony could have. What I want to know is, what’s it doing in there?”

Greg’s face was in his hands. He continued to try to shift left, away from Kaite. “I did not — I did not mean to betray you all. I had no idea they would know—”

“Greg, why’s that tracker in my crutch?” Emmett repeated, far less warmly.

“I just wanted to be able to look after you!” he insisted, pleading. “I did it ages ago, you remember — I gave you this what, six, seven years ago? It was so I’d be able to know where you were — get a sense if you were in trouble — do something!”

“Without telling me?” Emmett asked, tilting his head.

“I knew you would have—”

“Said no.”

Greg took a long breath. He was shaking as he removed the com’ask. “But it was important. I wanted to keep you safe.”

Emmett leaned forward. “And yet, in the end…”

Kaite’s foot lightly tapped Greg’s shoulder. He reluctantly looked up at her. She was silent, just looking into his eyes while wearing that odd smile. She held the gaze for a moment. Greg didn’t dare look away. It was as if she was peering into his very soul.

“In the end,” Natalie continued, “Well, do any of us need to finish that sentence? Did it not occur to you that others may have access to this resource? How do you imagine Jossimer’s forces were interfacing with the Giant’s control platform? The same way we did, clearly. That means they have radio technology. That means at short enough ranges they can track com’asks. That also means…”

“A signal like the one broadcasted by the crutch can be tracked across the span of the entire city,” Greg said with his head held in shame. “I promise, I swear, I did not do this on purpose. You have to—!”

“You never did fire that pistol you collected,” Natalie said, their eyes harsh.

“How could I! Those men in uniform were only doing their duty!”

“So why pick it up at all?” Natalie asked, voice raised.

“I… I don’t know! I wanted to help!”

“Easy, Nat,” Emmett cautioned. “One inquisition at a time.”

“Are you an entourage?” Natalie then asked, ignoring Emmett’s urging. Everyone in the room seemed surprised at the question. Even Sheam blinked. This had clearly not been a topic any of them had discussed beforehand.

“I… what? No! How could you ask that? Why?”

“You can’t manifest one. That would make sense if there was another Greg out there somewhere manifesting you — or someone else figured out how to make a mirror copy of Greg good enough to fool Emmett.”

“Nat, that’s—” Emmett began,

“Me giving the real Greg, your old friend, the benefit of the doubt,” Natalie replied quickly.

“I… I am telling the truth,” he pleaded. “I am not a projection. I am myself. I’ve lost the ability. It… it happened slowly, over the years. It just got harder and hard to focus, to think clearly and with intention. The more I tried, the more hazy and distorted they became, until I found I could barely project a shadow.

“Sheam, you remember, that’s why I wanted to see Randall’s journal! I thought maybe it would contain something of assistance. It… it did not. In fact the more I tried to study, the more convinced I became that my ability was simply lost.”

Sheam’s expression softened.

“I don’t smell entourage,” Kaite said, twisting her head to look back at Natalie.

“It can be masked, by an expert,” Natalie observed, eyes locked with Kaite’s.

“I have only ever wanted to help!” Grégoire cried. “With the pistol, with— Sheam, you remember, as soon as I knew Emmett was safe, I rushed here, right behind Kaite. I wanted to plead and reason with Delphiné! Years ago, Tony’s expedition — I knew you were curious about real ancient discoveries, not the stolen treasures of rival nations. I wanted to help! Emmett—”

Emmett’s eyes were hard, which stopped Grégoire in his tracks. Emmett signaled to keep going.

“I only wanted to keep you safe. Please, everyone, you have to believe me. I only ever wanted to help. I am here because I want to fight alongside you. I am on your side. I truly am an ally, you have to believe me!”

“I believe him,” Kaite said suddenly, glancing to Sheam, a sunny disposition appearing on her features.

Greg blinked. “You… you do?” he stammered.

With an almost audible pop, Kaite suddenly shrunk down to what could have been mistaken for half her size. Her black hair vanished into her scalp. A golden ring appeared in her septum. 

“Hi,” Flo said with a little wave.

The real Kaite, in the sublevel with Tony, listening in and keeping an eye on the radio locks, cackled with amusement.

Flo smiled. “Sorry for the lying, but, Kaite is a lot scarier than me.”

Below, Kaite flicked on the intercom connecting the two rooms, and said, “Don’t sell yourself short, babe. You can be plenty terrifying when you want to be.”

“Thanks babe! She’s downstairs. She had to run security, in case you were actually a traitor and any fuck-heads appeared to rescue you. Also, yeah, I can do this now. Cool, right? Just with Kaite so far, though. I am really, really familiar with what Kaite looks like. But no, I don’t think you’re a traitor. I think you mean everything you say. I think you’re just a bad communicator and a bad friend to Emmett.”

“I—” Grégoire stammered, eyes now red, “I am so sorry, Emmett, for betraying your trust…”

Emmett was silent.

“I also believe him,” Natalie said, filling the gap in the air. “I do not believe that Grégoire acted maliciously. Foolishly, yes. With an irrational need to insert themselves into situations that do not call for them, and into which they can render no true benefit — yes. So, very typical for a member of the delegation, but not treacherous, no.”

“You can’t just invent a way to help in situations where no-one asked for it,” Sheam said gravely. “You can ask how you can help. You can listen when someone says they need help, and give it in the way they are asking. That happened, remember? You did do that, here in the Circle. Have you forgotten?”

Grégoire nodded. “Yes, you called, and I answered.”

“And because of you, we were able to take control of the Giant away from Jossimer and those like him.”

Grégoire took a long breath. “Yes, I see.”

Emmett remained quiet for a long moment — a silence that seemed to fill the room. Grégoire seemed to understand that it was best to allow Emmett a moment. They had, after all, been friends for a very long time.

“You understand,” Emmett finally said, “That you put the tracker in my crutch for yourself, not for me, don’t you?”

Grégoire continued his silence.

“That’s another thing you need to understand when you tell yourself you’re desperate to help. Who are you actually trying to help? Who does your help serve? The other person, or your own feelings?”

“But how do I know how to—?”

“Ask, Greg. Ask before you do it.”

He nodded, eyes downcast.

“I think,” Emmett resumed, “you and I are going to have to have a very long talk about consent and boundaries. Once that’s done, we can see what our friendship looks like, and take that one step at a time. Think you can handle that, Greg?” At that, Emmett finally smiled.

“Yes, and again, I am so sor—”

“We heard you the first six times,” Natalie cut in. “I will be curious to see how you show it.”

“So will there be a punishment?” Grégoire asked suddenly, eyes moving to Sheam.

Sheam’s face seemed surprised by the question at first, but then creased with the gravity of the situation. She kept her eyes on Grégoire for a moment, hesitating. Finally, she closed them and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. She remained silent, thinking, even after a long breath.

Emmett also kept his eyes on Grégoire, but appeared far less conflicted. Still, he seemed to hesitate.

Flo, to everyone's surprise, was the first to answer. “Yes! We sentence you to always asking if anyone needs anything! Like, every day. Each of us. Jaegré too. It will be good practice. Unless one of us asks you to stop — then you stop.”

“I wouldn’t mind that assistance in improving the com’asks you offered,” Tony chimed in, who was still listening in. “And a way to mask its signal so they can’t be tracked. This time they noticed the crutch. It’s only a matter of time before they learn how to track these comparatively smaller signals.”

Greg nodded. “Well, small isn’t the right word. You see there’s frequency and amplitude. So, it’s more…” He then saw four pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly. “Yes, understood. Ask if help is needed, and render it if asked for. I can certainly do both.” He seemed resolute, and more himself.

Sheam finally spoke. “Also, and I think you will understand this prudence — information is going to have to flow in one direction for a while. We may ask you for information about the delegation, but we won’t be sharing with you our plans concerning them until you re-earn our trust. That may take time.”

“And if we sense that you’re attempting to gain information about our plans…” Natalie began gravely, but didn’t finish. They didn’t need to.

Grégoire nodded rapidly. “Your business is yours. If I am asked, I will answer.”

Sheam and Natalie exchanged glances. They hadn’t relaxed, but they seemed satisfied, at least for now.

Emmett spoke up. “Greg, would you mind walking me home, after I’ve had a private chat with Sheam?” I’ll need an arm to lean on, seeing as that crutch isn’t going anywhere with me anymore.

Greg nodded silently.

“Come on, Greg,” Flo said, hopping off the desk. “I know where I want to put the counter where we’ll make coffee in the community wing. I bet you can figure out how best to get water and power to that spot.”

“I… yes, I am sure I can offer some input.”

Greg and Flo left the room, and I leaned back in my chair, both arms folded up, with my hands on the back of my neck, taking as big and long a breath as I could manage. “That could have gone worse,” I said.

Nat smiled slightly, and reached to grasp one of my hands, squeezing it tightly. “We shall have to patent the Florence Starshine lie detection system,” they said jokingly.

I laughed and squeezed their hand back. “Are you off?”

“Yes,” they said, nodding and gathering up the dossier that Grégoire had left. “Tony will want to pour over these immediately. I'm afraid my recommendation is to still avoid com’ask use in our pursuit of Jossimer. I'm sure we can develop other means. Meanwhile, I have Emmett’s report of all of his recent movements. I fear some of our other allies have been compromised.”

I nodded. “Right, Jossimer pretty much has a map of Emmett’s movements stretching back years. That’s a big problem.”

“Thank you for the assist with that, Nat,” Emmett said with his usual warmth. “I’d do it myself but—”

“But you also need your recovery period,” Natalie said sternly. “Not that I have been particularly good at holding Sheam to hers.” At that, they removed my top-hat, and gave the top of my head a little kiss.

“I’ll meet you at the exit, Nat,” Tony said through the room’s speaker.

“Kaite,” I said, into the room’s microphone. “Things still look good?”

“All quiet,” she reported. "I’d like to keep watch a bit longer if you don’t mind — actually I’d like to walk you home, too. There’s no telling how long Flo and Greg will be talking renovations. Just let me know when you’re ready. You two need privacy?”

I looked at Emmett.

“Nothing you can’t hear, Kaite, but considering my relationship with surveillance recently, I admit I wouldn’t mind knowing that the room’s microphone was turned off.”

I nodded. “I’ll meet you downstairs, Kaite.”

“Not with that bad leg you won’t,” she said quickly. “Just plug the mic back in when you’re done and call down. I’ll come to you.”

I smiled. “Thanks, babe.”

“Any time, captain.”

At that. I unplugged the microphone, coiled up the cable, and set it down where Emmett could see it.

Emmett took a long breath, and rubbed his temples.

“Thoughts, feelings?” I asked him.

“Was about to ask you the same,” He said with a laugh. “Mine will be complicated. This all fits into a very long context for me.”

“I am… honestly,” I said, turning the crutch over in my hands. “Mostly glad that none of us overreacted or lashed out. I feel like the paranoia has passed. This could have easily set us back. Gotten us pointing fingers. Next thing you know, we’d all be back in hiding, not sure which one of our own we could trust anymore. It could have broken us.”

Emmett nodded, that same smile growing thoughtful. “Feels like this little group of ours passed a kind of test, doesn’t it?”

I nodded. “Thanks to Flo. I admit, for a moment there… but, no. How we treat our own matters. I think, as long as there's no clear danger that needs to be addressed swiftly, it doesn’t matter how badly they’ve fucked up. We look at it, we ask them to look at it, we give them a chance to understand, and move forward.” Sheam took another long breath. “Yeah. Yeah this is how it should be. It says something about the kind of society we want to build.”

“Very fair, and I couldn’t agree more.” Emmett’s cheeks then grew as he continued to smile. “So, you think of Greg as one of your own?”

“Yeah, a bit backwards in his views, a bit prone to foolishness due to imagining he knows what’s best for everyone, but… we’re all flawed. Take Flo, for example. She snores. I do not know how something so loud can come out of someone so small.”

Emmett leaned back as he laughed, hand on his chest.

“So, same time tomorrow, bright and early?” I asked, grinning. “We have a general to root out.”

“Sheam, you know we’re both supposed to be resting and healing up,” Emmett replied mischievously.

I shot a similar smile back. “May they try to stop us.”