Free Burn by Monica Hesse Page B

there any particular records you had in mind?” The girl finally made eye contact. She had a large chest, painted fingernails. There was something in her voice that reminded Lona of Genevieve. The standoffishness. The coolness – like she was waiting to be impressed. Lona handed her the index card that she’d carefully filled out, using the instructions on the government website.
    â€œWhich records do you want?” The girl moved the computer’s mouse lazily over the keypad. On her lap, underneath the desk, Lona spotted an opened comic book. The girl dutifully poised her fingers over her keyboard. Her nails were painted the same deep red color as her lips.
    â€œThe
Julian Path
records.” She resisted the urge to poke at where the information was printed in capital letters on her index card. “I filled that in on box four, right under my name and address. I’m trying to find all of the employees of the Julian Path. Especially any of them who worked in the lab.”
    â€œI
know
that. But
which
Julian Path?”
    â€œWhat do you mean, which Julian Path?”
    The girl rolled her eyes. “A couple of years after the paperwork was filed for the Julian Path, a bunch of other patents and copyrights and paperwork were also filed, using the same codes.” She pivoted her computer screen so Lona could see – a spreadsheet filled with letter and number combinations – and skimmed her index finger down one of the columns with exaggerated patience.
    â€œSee? These are all the same. They’re all filed under the umbrella grouping of Julian Path documentation, but some of them are labeled ‘Julian Side Path’, or this one is labeled ‘Julian Alternate Route’. And if I click on
this
one, it takes me to a grouping of records about Julian Path Expansion, which was apparently a proposed initiative to bring the music portion of Julian’s education to schools where arts funding had been cut. And if I click on
this
one, it takes me to the documents for the visioneer technology that was licensed out to the entertainment industry. And this one is called ‘The Julian Compact’. And if I click on
it
—”
    â€œI under
stand
.”
    The girl frowned, clicking again on whatever link she was trying to open, but apparently failing. “Well,” she said finally. “If I click on ‘The Julian Compact’, I apparently just get an ‘access denied’ notification.” She looked irritated by the firewall, though Lona couldn’t tell whether it was because her access had been denied, or because her smug rant to Lona had been interrupted.
    â€œBut you see what I’m saying. Unless you can be more specific about which set of records you’re looking for, I’ll have to click through each of these individually, and I really don’t—”
    â€œThe original one,” Lona blurted out. It had to be the original one she wanted, didn’t it? Because that one was the one Warren had developed. “Can you just give me the employment records for the plain, original Julian Path?”
    â€œKind of a purist, huh?”
    â€œA purist?”
    The girl looked down pointedly toward Lona’s feet. “Your shoes. I saw your shoes when you came in. I knew some costume shops sold Path slippers this Halloween, but yours are the most realistic ones I’ve seen.”
    They looked realistic because they were real. When Lona left the house this morning, her boots were still wet from the night before, so she’d grabbed what was closest – the thin, flexible slippers designed to be worn while living in pods.
    â€œThese aren’t from a costume shop,” she replied automatically, but luckily, the girl wasn’t paying attention.
    â€œWhich years do you want?” the girl interrupted. “And which sector?”
    â€œAll of them?”
    â€œ
All
of them?”
    She didn’t know how to narrow