Fault Line

9 SADLY ETERNAL

Alex got to the office at six o'clock the next morning. He hadn't slept well, but at least he'd come up with a course of action. The first step was to check in with the Patent and Trademark Office. The group director of Technology Center 2130-the PTO examination group responsible for computer cryptography and security-was a Stanford grad named Hank Shiffman, whom Alex had been friendly with when they were students. Having a friend like Hank inside was huge-he was smart enough to really get what Obsidian was about, and he knew all the bizarre inner workings of the patent office, too. Hank and 2130 hadn't officially received the application yet, but Hank had been keeping Alex unofficially apprised of its progress since it had first arrived at the Office of Initial Patent Examination. The last Alex had heard, the application had been forwarded to the Department of Defense for national security review. A security review was routine for an invention dealing with cryptography, and unless the DoD decided to issue a secrecy order-a huge pain in the neck but, thank God, highly unlikely-the application would soon pass muster and be assigned to a formal examiner in Hank's group.

It was nine o'clock in Virginia, where the PTO was located. Alex called Hank and got his voice mail.

Damn. Hank was always at his desk early. Well, maybe he was in the bathroom or something.

The message said to press zero to speak to an operator. Alex did. A moment later, a woman asked, “How may I direct your call?”

“I'm trying to reach Hank Shiffman.”

There was a pause. The woman said, “Ah, could you hold on for just a moment?”

Alex waited, wondering why the woman had sounded so uncertain about something so mundane.

A moment later, another woman's voice came on, throatier than the first, the tone more businesslike. “Hello, this is Director Jane Hamsher, Computer Architecture, Software, and Information Security. May I ask to whom I'm speaking?”

Alex thought for a moment. The information Hank had been feeding him was back-channel. He didn't want to create a problem for his friend.

“This is Alex Treven,” he said. “I'm a friend of Hank's from Stanford.”

There was a pause, then the woman said, “I see. Then I'm sorry to be the one to tell you that Hank passed away yesterday.”

Alex had one long moment during which he was certain he had heard wrong. He replayed the woman's words in his head, trying to arrive at a construction that made sense. Nothing did.

Finally he managed to blurt out, “What… what happened? How?”

“Apparently, it was a heart attack.”

Alex thought of Hank, a vegetarian and a demon on the squash court. “But… Hank was totally healthy. I mean, I don't think I've ever known anyone that healthy.”

“I know, it's been quite a shock to all of us. It seems it was something congenital, but they're still trying to work it out. We ‘re all going to miss Hank. He was a good man and very capable.”

She was easing away. Alex thought, Well, nothing to protect him from if he's dead, and said, “The thing is, Hank was… advising me on a cryptography application on behalf of a client. I wonder if there's someone else there who could give me an update?”

There was a pause. “Hank was the examiner?” the woman asked, her tone doubtful.

“No, it hadn't been assigned to a group yet. As far as I know, it's still at OIPE, and subject to Defense Department review-”

“Well, as soon as it's cleared the review, OIPE will assign it to a technology group, probably 2130 from your description. We'll be in touch at that point.”

Damn, not quite the sympathetic reaction he'd been hoping a bereaved friend would rate. “Right,” Alex said. “Thank you.”

“Not at all. And again, my condolences.”

He hung up. Time for a Plan B. Trouble was, with Hilzoy dead, he was already at Plan B. And it didn't seem to be going well.

First Hilzoy, then Hank. Unbelievable. It was like Obsidian was cursed.

He thought about what to do next. He still needed to find out who stood to inherit the rights to the patent if-when-it was issued. Also to roll up his sleeves and thoroughly assess the technology-the benefits, the limitations, all possible applications in various potential markets. Up until now, Hilzoy had been the best pitchman for Obsidian as something you could build a company around. With Hilzoy gone, Alex would need to be able to talk that talk.

He went through Hilzoy's file and was unsurprised to find no information on family. All right, he'd put Alisa on this. Contact the ex-wife and figure out who were the closest relatives-the likely beneficiaries under a will, or the most likely to inherit if Hilzoy died intestate.

Finally, the technology itself. Hilzoy always left a backup DVD of the latest version with Alisa when he visited the office. Alex went out and retrieved it, then popped it into the bay of his laptop. When the program booted, Alex was surprised to hear music coming from the laptop's tiny speakers. He didn't recognize the tune-something instrumental. He listened for a minute, then found a command to turn it off. It was creepy, imagining Hilzoy listening to it while he worked on Obsidian. Maybe it was one of his favorites.

He started performing the various applications, describing them as he worked, pretending he was talking to a VC. “Did you see how fast Obsidian encrypted a five-gigabyte video file? Well, it scales, too. We've tested it up to five terabytes, and we think it can go further. And not just video, of course not. Any data. Any platform. And the decrypt process is just as quick. Watch this…”

He kept at it for an hour, immersed, lost to the outside world. He had to be able to do this. He had to.

There was a knock on his door. He called out, “Yeah.”

The door opened and Sarah walked in. “Hey,” she said, her tone and accompanying expression suggesting she was not entirely pleased.

“What is it?” Alex asked, startled to see her, his mind still more than half occupied by Obsidian.

She sat down and looked at him. “Has it not occurred to you that other people might be concerned about what happened to Hilzoy?”

Alex frowned. Why couldn't she just act like a first-year associate was supposed to? She couldn't just barge in here, plop down in a seat like his office was her second home, and start interrogating him.

“Look-” he started to say.

She leaned forward, her elbows on his desk. “You blew out of here and went to the police station yesterday. What was that all about?”

Alex forced himself not to glance down at the alluring bit of décolletage he sensed in his peripheral vision. All right, maybe she had a point. “He was murdered,” he said.

Suddenly her expression was soft again. “Oh my God, I can't believe it.”

He thought he should just tell her he was busy. Convey his displeasure with her failure to show him the appropriate deference. He'd always been deferential when he was a first-year. What was wrong with her?

Instead, he said, “There was a bunch of heroin in the trunk of his car. Some kind of drug deal, they think.”

“Heroin? Hilzoy? Come on, he was a geek. That doesn't make sense.”

“I guess you can never tell.”

She leaned back as though she intended to stay awhile. “The police called you because… they thought you might know something?”

For a moment Alex hesitated, and then he surrendered. Hilzoy, then Hank… it was so weird, he just needed to talk to someone. He told her about the cell phone connection that led the police to him, about the Q &A at headquarters, even about the DNA test. He hadn't been planning to say so much; in fact, he hadn't planned on saying anything. He sensed that in doing so now he was taking a chance, the risks of which he didn't fully understand and certainly couldn't control. The feeling made him feel slightly dizzy, almost nauseated.

“Have you told Osborne?” she asked, when he was done.

“No. He's in Bangkok until tomorrow. I'll tell him then.”

“Won't he want to know right away? You could send him an e-mail.”

Alex laughed. “If it's not his client, Osborne could give a shit, believe me.”

The moment the words were out, he wished he hadn't said it. He always knew to be tight-lipped about that kind of thing-you never knew how something innocuous could get distorted and amplified in the retelling. He hated that she could have this effect on him.

But Sarah only smiled sympathetically. “So, what's going to happen to the patent?”

Alex ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I'm trying to find out.”

She glanced at his laptop. “Is that what you're doing there?”

“A little, yeah. Taking Obsidian for a test drive. Trying to see how it does without Hilzoy behind the wheel.”

She nodded. “Well, if you want a copilot, just ask me.”

He looked at her, trying to read her expression. What did the offer mean, exactly? Was it just about work, or…

He felt himself blushing. Goddamn it.

“Thanks,” he said. “I'll let you know.”

She smiled and stood. “Sorry I barged in on you. I was just really curious, you know?”

Alex nodded and forced himself to stay in his seat. He wasn't going to see her off as though she were a damned partner.

She flashed him that beautiful smile again and left, closing the door behind her. Alex expelled a long breath. After a minute, he opened the laptop and returned to experimenting with Obsidian. But he couldn't get his focus back. This whole situation… it was just stirring up memories.

Alex had been a freshman at Menlo Atherton High School the night Katie died. He was sleeping, and was stirred to partial wakefulness by the sound of the phone ringing. He wondered vaguely why someone would be calling so late, then started to drift off again, knowing that whatever it was, his parents would take care of it. And then, a moment later, he was shocked to full consciousness by the most terrible sound he'd ever heard. It wasn't a loud sound, but it made him sit bolt upright anyway, his hands shaking, all the warmth suddenly gone from his body.

The sound was his mother. Six syllables, all in a quavering, unnaturally high voice, the words themselves eclipsed and irrelevant beside the naked terror in her tone.

“Oh no. Oh please God no.”

Alex sat frozen in his bed, holding the covers close, more frightened than he'd ever been in his life. What could make his mother sound that way? Who was on the phone?

A moment later, his father appeared at his door. He flicked on the light and in a quiet, commanding voice Alex had never heard before said, “Alex, get dressed. We have to go to the hospital.”

Alex shook his head, not understanding. The hospital? Who was sick?

“Dad-”

“Now!” his father said.

They piled into his dad's car, his mother in the passenger seat, Alex confused and afraid in back, and screeched backward out of the driveway. The moment they hit the street his dad spun the wheel and locked up the brakes and Alex was thrown forward. He didn't even have his seat belt on yet. Then his dad floored it and he was thrown back again. He got his seat belt on with shaking hands just as his dad fishtailed right at the end of the street, nearly slamming Alex up against the door.

His dad kept driving like a madman, and his mother, who was never shy about opining on his dad's driving, especially when she deemed it unsafe, didn't say a word. Alex was suddenly aware he needed to take a leak. He'd been so frightened, and they'd left in such a hurry, he hadn't even realized.

“It's Katie,” his father said as though remembering for the first time that Alex didn't even know what the hell was going on. He slowed at a red light and swiveled his head to check for traffic, then rocketed through. “She was in an accident.”

Alex felt tears well up and forced them back. He heard an echo of his mother's voice in his mind and knew all at once the sound would reverberate inside him forever.

Oh no. Oh please God no.

“I don't understand,” his mother said, and Alex could hear she was crying. “Where's Ben? I thought you were going to tell him-”

“I did tell him,” Alex's father said. “He was supposed to drive Katie home. I told him specifically.”

Alex tried to understand what this was about. Earlier that day the whole family had returned from two days at the California State Wrestling Championships in Bakersfield, where Ben had won the 171-pound weight class. Ben had been ecstatic, so happy he had even surprised Alex by hugging him in front of everyone in the stands. Some kids were throwing Ben a party that night. It was for seniors and juniors, so Ben and Katie were going. No one had told Alex more than that. They never did.

“Maybe Wally drove her,” Alex said in a small voice, trying to be helpful. Wally Farquhar was Katie's boyfriend. He was a senior and had a fancy black Mustang. He never gave any sign of even knowing Alex existed, and Alex didn't like him much. He had the sense his parents weren't so crazy about Wally either.

There was a long silence, and Alex wondered if he had said something wrong. After a moment, his father spoke, his voice unrecognizably grim. “Wally was driving.”

No one said anything the rest of the way. It was as though the fact Wally had been driving had decided something, something both awful and permanent.

Alex wanted to know more, but he was afraid to ask. Katie was in a car accident… but she would be okay, wouldn't she? And why wasn't Ben driving her? His parents said he was supposed to. He wasn't able to articulate the feeling, but he sensed strongly that Ben had done something wrong, and that whatever it was, if Ben hadn't done it, none of this would be happening.

But maybe it wasn't happening. Maybe he was still asleep at home. Maybe the ache in his bladder, his dad's crazy driving, the sound his mother had made, this whole sickening lurch in their lives, maybe it was all just a terrible dream.

His father screeched to a stop in front of the Stanford Medical Center emergency room entrance and cut the engine. His parents jumped out, slamming the doors behind them, and Alex realized they weren't going to a parking lot, they were leaving the car right here. How was he supposed to know that? No one had even said anything to him, and it felt like they were just leaving him.

He got out. The night was cold and quiet and he could see his breath fogging, could see swirling cones of vapor under the sodium lights in front of the building. The façade of the hospital seemed to glow in the darkness around it, the building's edges indistinct. His sense that this could be a dream deepened.

He ran inside and pulled up next to his parents. His father was talking to a black woman in a window, a nurse or a receptionist. Katie Treven, he was saying. We're her parents. Where is she?

The woman looked at some paperwork in front of her, then at Alex's father. “She's in surgery, sir.”

Surgery. Alex's mind was flooded with visions of masked doctors in bloody gowns, white-hot operating room lights, trays of gleaming metal instruments, and the thought of Katie at the center of it all, right here, right now…

“We need to see her,” Alex's mom said, her voice equally frightened and firm. “Where is she?”

The woman looked at Alex's mother, and though her expression wasn't without compassion, Alex recognized something unmovable in it. He could sense how many times the woman had danced these steps, how accustomed she was to dealing with this situation.

“Ma'am,” she said, “I understand how upset you are. But you're not permitted into surgery. It's a sterile environment, and if you went in it could only hurt your daughter, not help her. Please, just have a seat in the waiting room. The doctor will be out shortly.”

Alex watched his parents’ shoulders slump, and they all shuffled off, meek and scared and dejected. He wondered for a moment how he could have known about the nurse. The nature of the insight felt new to him, and not entirely welcome.

There was something sadly eternal about the small rectangular waiting room, with its smell of antiseptic and rows of upholstered chairs and television flickering in the corner. The television was playing too quietly to be heard and Alex wondered what was the point, and then he realized: it was to remind people that this room wasn't the whole world, that whatever horror had summoned them here, there was still life outside. He was struck by the thought, by the newfound adultness of it, as he had been by his insight into the nurse, and for some reason the fact that he could suddenly understand such a thing frightened him.

They found three adjacent chairs and sat. Alex looked around. A dozen or so people were in there already. None paid Alex and his family the slightest attention. A Latina cradled a little girl's head in her lap, cooing softly. A little boy Alex supposed was the woman's son slumped against her shoulder, asleep. An old man in a flannel shirt moaned to himself, clutching a bloody rag against his arm. They all looked like they'd been there forever, and Alex wondered briefly if his family now looked the same.

He wanted to take his mother's hand but saw that she and his father weren't touching, so maybe that meant he wasn't supposed to. “I have to… I need to go to the bathroom,” Alex said. His mother offered only a tiny nod in response, and Alex felt guilty that he had to do something for his own comfort.

When he returned, his father had gotten up and was pacing. His mother sat so still she might have been carved from marble. Certainly her face was white enough.

Alex sat and stared at the swinging doors he assumed led deeper into the hospital. He tried not to think about Katie, about how they were operating on her. They must have given her anesthesia, right? At least she wasn't in pain.

Every twenty minutes or so his father would go to a pay phone in the corridor and call home. After the fourth such foray, he came back and said, “I got Ben. He's on the way.”

His mother looked up. “Where was he?”

His father shook his head. “I don't know. I didn't want to get into a discussion. I just wanted to get him over here.”

Less than ten minutes later, Ben burst into the waiting room, and Alex felt a wave of reassurance at the sight of his tough, broad-shouldered big brother. At least they were all together now. It could be hard to talk to Ben, and Alex knew Ben didn't exactly like him, but his brother had always protected him. Alex felt he would protect him now, too, protect all of them.

“What happened?” Ben said. “How's Katie?”

“Where were you?” his mom said, coming to her feet and closing on him. “You were supposed to drive her!”

“What?” Ben said.

His father stepped in and grabbed Ben by the arm. “I told you, you were supposed to drive her home from the party.”

“You did not,” Ben said, shaking his head. “You said I should have Katie home by midnight.”

“What did you think I meant?” his father said, his voice rising. “You were supposed to drive her!”

Alex looked around from his seat. The previously stupefied denizens of the waiting room had stirred to partial awareness and were watching this drama unfold.

“I thought… you know, she was supposed to be home at a certain time,” Ben said. “She's younger. Wally said he would drive her, so I thought-”

The room was silent.

Ben asked, “Where's Wally?”

His father said, “Wally was driving. He's dead.”

Alex felt a rush of fear at those two last words, at their stark finality. He understood that whoever had called must have told his parents. But… how could Wally be dead? Alex had just seen him, what, three days ago?

Ben looked like he'd been hit in the stomach. “Katie… Katie said it was okay.”

His father's voice got louder. “I think I made it perfectly clear that you were supposed to drive your sister home, Ben! You!”

Ben shook his arm loose and stepped back. He looked at his father, then his mother. “What are you, blaming me for this? This is my fault?”

“She wasn't supposed to be in Wally's car!” his mom said, and burst into tears.

They all stood that way for a long, frozen moment. Ben turned and walked out.

“Ben!” his father called, but Ben didn't even glance back. “Ben!”

His father started to go after him. Alex heard the swinging doors open and looked up to see a guy in green surgical scrubs coming through. The guy said, “Katie Treven's family?”

Alex's parents rushed over to him. Ben turned and came back in the room. Alex, terrified, forced himself to stand.

“We're Katie's parents,” Alex's father said, his voice low, his jaw hardly moving. “How is she?”

“She's in post-op,” the guy in scrubs said, and Alex's mom's hands flew to her mouth, stifling a sob. She sagged against his dad. His dad was breathing in and out like a locomotive. Tears were suddenly running down his face.

“I'm Dr. Rosen,” the guy in scrubs said. “Let's go somewhere we can talk.”

Dr. Rosen led them to a small room off the waiting room. There were chairs, but no one sat.

“Your daughter sustained severe trauma to the head,” Dr. Rosen said. “There was bleeding, and we had to operate to relieve the pressure.”

Alex's mom had a fist pressed so tightly to her mouth her arm was shaking.

“Is she…” Alex's dad asked, but he couldn't finish.

“We've done everything we could,” Dr. Rosen said. “But I have to caution you, at this point I'm not optimistic about Katie's chances. You have to prepare yourself for the worst.”

A sound escaped from Alex's mom's throat, high-pitched, something like a hiccup. She twisted her fist savagely against her lips.

Alex felt the tears well up again and this time he couldn't stop them. He glanced at Ben. His brother's mouth was a thin pale line. Of the four of them, he was the only one not crying.

“Can we see her?” his dad whispered.

Dr. Rosen nodded. “Of course. She isn't conscious, though. She's bandaged and there's a lot of bruising. She's also intubated-a tube in her mouth.”

Alex understood that Dr. Rosen was telling them all this to prepare them. He was glad for the warning. He wanted to be strong. Maybe he couldn't be as strong as Ben, but he wanted to try and he knew he needed every advantage.

Dr. Rosen led them down a corridor and into a private room. Ben was behind their parents. Alex, frightened and unsure of himself, brought up the rear.

For a second, Alex thought there had been a mistake, Dr. Rosen had taken them to the wrong room. The person in the hospital bed was unrecognizable-the head wrapped with bandages, the mouth agape around tape and a plastic tube, the eyelids shot purple and swollen shut.

And then, through the bandages and bruises and battered flesh, he recognized Katie. Katie. The tears didn't just well this time, they spilled from his eyes in a hot rush.

His mother dropped to her knees next to the bed and took Katie's hand. “Oh baby,” she whispered. “My sweet baby. My baby.”

His father moved around to the far side of the bed and took Katie's other hand. He didn't speak. Katie didn't stir.

Alex felt himself sweating. Why did they keep the room so hot? And his breath was coming very fast. He couldn't seem to slow it down.

Ben turned and looked at him. He put an arm around Alex's shoulders and gently led him out of the room.

They stood in the hallway, not speaking. Alex realized he was hyperventilating and he couldn't stop crying.

Ben eyes were still dry. He tousled Alex's hair. “You going to be okay?”

Alex nodded, but the compassion in his brother's gesture and voice made him cry harder. After a couple of minutes he had it mostly under control. The trick was to not think of how Katie had looked in that bed. How diminished and hurt and vulnerable. How… vacant.

Alex wiped his face against his sleeve. “Why didn't you drive her?” he asked. It was all he could think to say.

And suddenly Ben was right up in his face.

“I… didn't… do… anything… wrong!” he said, his voice rising to a shout.

Alex started crying again. Ben stalked off.

A little while later an alarm sounded from Katie's room. A whole team of doctors and nurses converged, and Alex's parents had to go out. Alex was too scared to ask what was happening. He thought he knew anyway and didn't want anyone to tell him he was right.

Ben came back. They all paced wordlessly.

Alex wanted someone to touch him the way Ben had when he led him from the room, but it seemed like everyone was keeping away from everyone else. His father kept trailing his fingers back and forth along the wall, as though trying to anchor himself to something. His mother had her knuckles knotted into her hair and looked like she was about to pull out fistfuls. Sometimes a shoe would squeak on the linoleum floor, but other than that the corridor was horribly silent.

Alex lost track of time. After a while, Dr. Rosen came out. Alex saw his face and instantly knew-another newfound, unpleasant adult realization.

“I'm very sorry,” Dr. Rosen said. “We did everything we could. I'm sorry.”

Alex saw the tension just go out of his mother's legs, and Ben leaped forward to support her. His dad was saying, Oh God, no. Oh my Christ, no. Dr. Rosen was telling them something about donating organs, and he was so sorry to press but Katie could give the gift of life to others, and they had to decide quickly. Alex tried not to think about what it meant that they might take Katie's organs, but he couldn't help imagining.

His parents went back into the room to say good-bye. Ben lingered for a moment, and Alex thought maybe he didn't want to leave Alex behind. But then he turned his back on Alex and followed his parents in. Alex wondered whether it was because he was mad at what Alex had said. But why hadn't he driven Katie? He was supposed to, his dad had said so. Why?

Alex stayed outside. He couldn't go in there again. He just couldn't. He didn't want to see his sister dead. He wished he hadn't gone in before. He couldn't get the image out of his mind.

Alex's recollections of the rest of the night were mercifully unclear. He remembered his parents fighting about Katie's organs. His father saying it's what Katie would have wanted, and how would they feel if it were Katie who needed the transplant? His mother shouting that they weren't going to cut up her little girl. In the end, they didn't sign the forms. Alex was secretly relieved.

There were more fights in the days after, and although they mostly happened from behind his parents’ closed bedroom door, Alex could hear plenty. Funeral arrangements. Where Katie should be buried. More about the organs, even though it must have been too late for that. Most of all, it was about Ben not driving her and whether Alex's dad had told him to.

Alex had never heard his parents fight this way, and it scared him. He wondered if it was possible they could even get divorced. He had friends whose parents were divorced, but he'd never thought it could happen to him. His parents had always seemed to love each other.

There was a funeral at Ladera Community Church, a burial at Alta Mesa Memorial Park in Palo Alto. Over five hundred people came to the funeral-teachers, neighbors, Ben's friends, Alex's friends, the entire junior class. Everyone loved Katie.

Come on, he thought. Drop it. Focus.

But it was hard to focus. The truth was, bad memories never died. No, at best they were quiescent, just waiting for the right circumstances to pop up like an evil jack-in-the-box and say, Miss me? Don't worry, I'm still here! And I'm not going anywhere, either. Never, ever.

He wondered whether it was like this for other people. Did everyone grapple with shit like this when they were stressed?

He wondered for a moment about Ben, about whether he was ever bothered by any of it. Yeah, right. The irony was stunning-the guy who caused all of it, including what happened afterward, probably slept like a baby at night.