About The Scarlett Kite
Hi! I'm Scarlett Kiteway, I'm 20 years old, a journalism student in Perplex City and this is my blog all about the excitement over the search for the Cube. I'll be keeping track of what the media over there is saying about it, and maybe a little bit about my life as well!
Previous Month
Friday, December 23, 2005
No, I'm not dead
Category: story, 03:48 PMI'm back. Out of Viendenbourg. And everything's OK. Well, sort of. Some things are OK and some aren't at all.
The last time I wrote I was waiting in an office at the Viendenbourg facility to be interviewed. I didn't have to wait long. A few minutes after I sent you that bulletin, the office doord and a woman came in to talk to me. She wasn't at all what I'd expected: short, probably in her mid-fifties, and looking kind of worried. The first thing she said was:
"Miss Kiteway, we're so sorry to have treated you in this way. I'm Commander Fitzgerald. I hope you haven't been made too uncomfortable?"
I blinked. This was not what I'd been expecting either. She offered me a cup of tea, and I just nodded.
After a few moments, I managed to ask:
"How did you know who I am?"
Commander Fitzgerald smiled and winked. Winked!
"Ah well. Your key ident forgeries were quite sophisticated, Ms Metzger, but we managed to crack them. I can't tell you how, of course. Classified."
I nodded.
"Now," Commander Fitzgerald said, "I understand that you've come to fetch Allain?"
"Yes!" I almost shouted, "what have you done to Allain?! Why doesn't he remember me?"
"Ah. Yes, I think I can explain that." She leaned back in her chair. "As I'm sure you're aware, this is a secure military facility. We're conducting research here, research which is, of course, classified. We have certain... protection measures in place around the facility. As far as we can tell, Allain was hiking in the area while wearing a device which was engineered - quite cleverly - to counter the effects of that protection field. I believe you are wearing a similar device. Perhaps you made them together." She smiled again, tipping her head to one side.
"We think that the device Allain was using suddenly overloaded, causing a massive energy surge which, in conjunction with his suddenly coming into contact with our protection field caused the memory problems you've noticed. We don't think they're permanent. In fact, since seeing you last week, his memory seems to have been returning very quickly. We're delighted to see this - until now he hasn't even been able to tell us his name. We found him wandering in the woods near our facility several weeks ago - he was confused and disoriented. We made him as comfortable as we could, but his key had been damaged, and we were unable to find out who he was. Now that we know, of course, we're happy for you to take him home with you. Now," she said, "I've told you what I know. Perhaps you'd like to tell me what you and your friend were doing trying to break into our facility."
I was amazed. I couldn't work out how much she knew, or even whether she was telling me the truth. I'd expected to be interrogated, but instead I was sipping tea. I'd expected to find something out about Viendenbourg, but I could see now that that was stupid; she wasn't going to tell me anything. So I did the only thing I could: I made up a lie. I said that Allain and I were friends. True so far. That we'd been hiking in the woods. Also true. That we'd discovered an anomaly in the area, and we'd rigged up some devices to try to penetrate it. Just because we were curious. That Allain had been the first to try one, and I'd come in afterwards to find him. It wasn't a very good story; there were a lot of things it didn't cover, like how I'd managed to put together a fake identity of Lana Metzger which was so perfectly suitable for getting into the facility. My only hope was that Allain hadn't told them his surname, and that the man I'd spoken to on reception wouldn't have remembered it, so that they wouldn't make the connection with Claire Castille.
Commander Fitzgerald listened to my story silently. She sipped her tea as I spoke. A slight smile played on her lips.
"Ah," she said. "I understand. You've been very clever, Miss Kiteway, and I certainly wouldn't want you to break your cover now. But I think you can let your father know that our security systems are up to scratch, can't you? And I'm sure that next time he comes to inspect the facility he will find the modifications we've made to be extremely satisfactory. Now, let me arrange a transport for you and 'Allain'. Will Regansborg be far enough for you? You can catch the train there."
She stood up and walked towards the door. I sat in stunned silence. All I could do was nod.
-------------------------------------------
That was a week ago, and Allain and I are still in Regansborg, a small town in the mountains. We've decided to stay here for a while. By the time I saw him again, his memory had come back enough for him to recognise me, and know who I was, but neither of us are sure what we want to do next. I don't want to talk to my father. And some of the information my key managed to pull from the Viendenbourg systems has made us unsure about whether we want to contact his grandfather either. But I can't go into all that now. I'm so tired, we both are, we just want to rest. So, I won't be in touch for a couple of weeks. I've celebrated winter solstice here, the first time I've been away from my family for it. And I'll miss the PCAG, and the Academy ball. But the only thing that's clear to me now is that I can't go home.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Ambush
Category: story, 04:13 PMI spent a lot of time thinking, after I sent you that message last week, thinking about what to do, what could possibly have happened to Allain, thinking over what I'd seen.
I've ticked off the points in my mind. He didn't seem to be in pain, or to have been injured. That's good. He didn't seem frightened, or incoherent. That's also good. He was in what looked like a pretty comfortable small apartment, with no one supervising him, writing something with books on the table around him. That's good too. He didn't remember who I was. That's not good. Admittedly, we haven't known each other that long, but we spent several weeks together, we shared some intense times. Can the people at Viendenbourg have wiped his memory? If they have, why? If they know who he is, if they're concealing what happened to his mother, if they don't want him to know, why haven't they just killed him? None of it made any sense.
But, over the week, I worked out a plan. Major Castille had given me, in amongst my supplies, a little bit of Neuroceptin - it's a prescription medication for people who are overly aggressive and violent. Given to normal people it makes them woozy, docile and biddable. Major Castille thought I might need it if I had to slip past a guard or evade capture. It's in a spray canister - just spray it on any exposed area of skin and it's absorbed within three seconds. So my plan, such as it was, was to go into Viendenbourg, just as I had done before, spray Allain with the Neuroceptin, and walk him out of the compound, maybe take him a couple of days journey from Viendenbourg, then call Major Castille. It didn't quite work out like that.
I walked into the compound just as before, passing the guard, taking my key-card straight to room 12F. I flashed the card in front of the door. The light turned green, the door unlocked. I turned the handle. The room looked empty. I'd thought this might happen. I'd decided that if Allain wasn't in his room, I'd just wait until he came back. I walked into the room. And, suddenly, I was grabbed from behind.
Two people, one on either side of me, practically lifted me off the ground. Before I knew what had happened, someone had wrenched my arms back behind me and cuffed my hands together. I turned my head. Three people - two men and a woman - dressed in military uniform were standing around me, with weapons pointed at me. They'd been waiting in the darkness of the room, clearly. One of the men motioned with his weapon, and said:
"Miss, turn around. Slowly."
I did exactly what he said. Looking around I saw that soldiers were waiting at the bottom of the staircase I'd just walked up, at the end of the passage I'd just walked down, in the square central area I'd just walked through. Evidently they'd known I was coming. Probably they'd known since I entered the compound.
With two armed men at my back, I walked down the staircase, and onto the back of a troop transport waiting there for me. Two of the men exchanged words as I climbed up into the back of the transport. I couldn't catch what they said, though. I found that my legs were shaking. I tried to ask where they were taking me, but didn't get any reply.
It's not what I thought, though. They've locked me in an office. An office. It's weird - somehow I imagined they'd have a holding cell or a dungeon or something. The soldier who brought me in here unbound my wrists and told me to wait, that "someone" would be along to see me shortly. In this office. I guess they really didn't expect any curious visitors. In any case, I've wasted no time. Using the key Major Castille doctored, I've logged on to the networks here, and have downloaded any document with "Claire Castille" in it. I'm no hacker - although I do have her personal passwords, and a few of the most up-to-date hacking programmes installed on my key, thanks to the Major - if any information's deeply buried I won't have found it. But, like most offices, not everything's deeply buried. I haven't had a chance to read what I've found yet, but my key seems to have turned up a few things. And if I get out of here, I'll be able to read them. If I get out of here.
So now I'm waiting for "someone" to come and talk to me. Don't worry about me, and please don't tell my family what's going on here. As the Major said, I'm Scarlett Kiteway, no one in a military facility is going to hurt me. I've set my key to call my father immediately if I give it a signal or say any one of about 10 keywords. I'll be fine. I just have to know what's going on here.
Friday, December 9, 2005
Lana Metzger
Category: story, 02:42 PMI've been sitting here, in the woods, by my small campfire for 24 hours trying to work out what to tell you. Trying to work out what just happened. It's not that I'm confused. The device in my key is still working, the confusion field protecting Viendenbourg hasn't got to me. I've tested myself, just in case, listing the names of the seven founders of the Academy and their dates, running through my multiplication tables. I'm fine. I'm healthy. I'm not injured. I even found Allain. But it didn't go like I expected. Perhaps I should start from the beginning.
Like I said last week, I spent a few days watching the comings and goings at Viendenbourg, to get an idea of what the best time to get in would be. I also carefully scouted around the perimeter, after dark, and staying in the cover of clumps of trees or rocky outcroppings. The place is large, about 2 miles all the way round, with many more buildings in it than I thought. There's the main building, the long, low grey one. It's huge, probably at least 150,000 square metres. That's the building which the noise of drilling comes from about 14 hours a day. There are also other buildings though; offices and houses, what look like dorm rooms and even a few stores. The more I watched, the more lax their security systems seemed. The gates areall the time; people walk in and out easily, not even showing their ID to the guard. They even come out to go running! A couple of them have come scarily close to my campsite; they seem to be convinced that no one could have got through their confusion field.
So, the whole thing was in one way really simple. Yesterday at lunchtime, when there's a lot of milling around anyway, I changed into a smart business suit I'd bought in Tanraga Town, made a bundle of some papers and a file, and just walked through the gates like I knew where I was going. I've seen my sister Violet do this kind of thing loads of times, it's her special skill. She always says she "doesn't like dealing with receptionists", so she just walks straight through as if the place belongs to her. I've always thought it was kind of cheating; like, if you were supposed to be somewhere you should be able to get in by asking, but it's certainly a useful thing to be able to do.
Anyway, I did know where I was heading. As I walked through the gates, purposefully, I was heading for the small cluster of office-looking buildings to the west side of the complex. You might wonder why I didn't go for the long grey building, I guess. It just seemed to me that that was where something important was going on, and therefore the last place they'd be likely to keep a dangerous prisoner. So I headed for the offices. I had my plan all worked out. It was really simple.
Inside, the building looked like any municipal facility; inoffensive cream walls and thick beige carpet, a man and a woman sitting behind the desk. I know Violet doesn't like talking to them, but it was part of my plan.
"Hello," I said, in my best crisp, I'm-so-bored-with-this voice. "I'm here to see Allain Castille. I'm Lana Metzger, I've been brought in to evaluate him."
I thought that, whatever they'd done to Allain, he would need to be "evaluated".
The man tapped at his key, and looked up: "I'm sorry, there's no one of that name here."
I hadn't expected this, but thought quickly.
"You know, the young man who was found in the woods," I pretended to check my notes, "nine weeks ago."
The man blinked at me. I tried to make my face into a stern I-don't-have-time-for-this expression.
"Oh," he said, "*that* guy. You've found out his name have you?"
I nodded. He smiled.
"Great. I guess you had to get it eventually, huh? After all the stuff they've been doing to him. He's in building 12, observation room F."
He handed me a key-card and even pointed which direction I should be heading in.
I couldn't quite trust it was going to be this easy. If Allain had been held here all this time, why hadn't he just been able to escape, the same way I'd got in? I didn't like to think what that "stuff they've been doing to him" could have been.
As I walked up the steps of building 12, I could hear my heels clicking very loudly on the concrete. My heart was thumping. The building was laid out with separate front doors to each set of rooms; as if he were their guest, instead of their prisoner. Room F was on the upper level. I walked round to it, but the curtains were drawn and I couldn't see anything through them. I waved the key-card in front of the reader; the light flashed from red to green. And Id the door and there was Allain, sitting at a desk, writing.
I couldn't believe it. It had been so long since I'd last seen him, but he looked just the same.
He looked up as I walked in, surprise and bewilderment on his face.
"Come on," I said, "let's go! Quickly!"
He looked hard at my face and said: "Who are you?"
I stood there for a few moments, just staring at him. There was no recognition in his eyes. And so I apologised, said I had the wrong room and walked, confidently, slowly, off the compound. And I've been here for the past day trying to work out what to do now. I can get into the compound any time I like, but I don't know what to do with that. And I don't know what to tell Major Castille. What have they done to Allain?
Friday, December 2, 2005
Now I'm on my own
Category: story, 02:18 PMIt was weird, this week, travelling on the train by myself. I kept remembering how last time I made this trip I was with my friends, how Margot and I used to play Pyramid late in the evenings, with the countryside flashing by outside the windows, just dark shadows of trees and mountains. I miss my friends. They're back in the city now, back in school. Sanj sent me a long mail about what's going on at Marmalejo; the Wheel team's won a game against Besley South, the Column is back in production, the school is gearing up for all the plays and celebrations at Restitution. It's all going on without me. I'm trying not to think about it too much.
I've been busy anyway, reviewing a lot of material Major Castille's given me about the history of the city. There's a lot to read about the war, a lot we didn't learn in school because they think it's better that schoolchildren not be exposed to horrible stories from our past. I'm grateful, in a way. I think maybe I was better off not knowing that my ancestors probably murdered millions of innocent people. It makes me feel even more jealous of the guys back home, of Margot and Brede and Sanj, who don't know about this stuff, who might never know about it. I wish I didn't know about it.
Major Castille has given me a couple of books: Roger Portson's "Last Days of Anjsbourg" and Imelda Monting's "Remembering the fallen". They piece together as much as they can of the story of the war; it's not much. So many records were lost, and that period was so confused, with agreements and counter-agreements, hopeful years when it seemed like the war was over, never to return, tense years of threats and posturing, and desperate years when it seemed that everyone in the world could be obliterated. It's horrible; I can't even imagine what it would be like to live through something like that. Portson's book is particularly sad - he combed through what records were available andto-access of people who had actually been to Anjsbourg, before the war. He has pages and pages of people describing the cobbled streets, the curved buildings with sloping pointed roofs. Little details are the ones that stick with you, like a merchant talking about how Anjsbourg produced the finest leather goods she'd ever seen, and how she'd bought one for her little son, a leather horse. Knowing that makes them seem, I don't know... real.
Anyway, since I left the train I haven't had much time for brooding. I've been hiking long distances every day, keeping out of the way of the major trails and making good time, keeping to the plan. It's beautiful here, and quite often I just get lost in enjoying the walk, the scenery. It's not as easy to do a trip like this alone as in a big group, but it means I always have things to do. In the past day, I've entered the area where Major Castille thought the "confusion field" would be operating, but I don't feel any different. I can see that the device he fitted to my key is working, keeping me sharp.
And, as we'd calculated, this afternoon just before sunset, I came in sight of Viendenbourg. There really is a Viendenbourg, and I've seen it, from the top of a high ridge where I've camped. It's like seeing in real life a place I've only ever seen in a dream before; a low-slung grey building, much larger than I'd thought, extending back a long way. People are always going in and out through thegates and, yes, there's a hum of machinery. But now that I'm here I can tell what that hum really is: it's the sound of drilling.
I'm planning to wait here for a couple of days, to observe the comings and goings, to see when would be the best time to go down. But I don't think it'll be too tricky; I expect they think the confusion field is impregnable, because the gates seem to be leftall the time. So this is it. I'm going into Viendenbourg.