Free Silent Symmetry (The Embodied trilogy) by JB Dutton Page B

office with a bunch of cubicles and computers.”
    “I don’t care, I just want to know what to picture when I’m imagining you sitting at your desk.”
    That was the best I could come up wit h, and it wasn’t very good. My real motive was that I thought maybe I could unearth some information about the Temple of Truth while I was there. Noon was in my thoughts like you wouldn't believe, and I had to find out more about his sketchy religion.
    “Would you rather take me on a workday?” I asked. “I could come after school.”
    She thought about this for a second as the pilot started playing that cheesy Frank Sinatra song over our headphones.
    “No, best not, honey. Look, I’m kind of bushed now, but we’ll go tomorrow morning.”
    “ Perfect! It’ll keep your mind off the date with Bob.”
    She shook her head and rolled her eyes at me, smiling. I could tell that she was excited about this potential man in her life and it made me really happy to see her acting a bit like a teen ager for a change, rather than a responsible bread-winner and parent. We were so caught up in the romance of it all that neither Mom nor I thought to ask ourselves this question: if Bob had lived in New York for years, what was he doing visiting the Statue of Liberty?
     
    * * * * *
     
    Late the next morning we took the subway up from Chelsea to the 40-story office tower where Mom worked. She flashed her keycard at the bored-looking security guard in the gleaming lobby.
    “What about her?” he asked, gesturing with a half-eaten sugared doughnut . “Does she have a pass?”
    “Oh,” said Mom, surprised. “She’s my daughter.”
    “Well, I gotta see some ID and she’s gotta sign in.”
    “No problem,” I answered for Mom.
    The last thing I wanted was to be denied access. I showed him my student ID and he frowned at it, rubbing crumbs off his bristly mustache.
    “She’s only sixteen,” implored Mom. “She just wants to see where I work.”
    He sighed and grabbed the clipboard with the sign-in sheet. After noting my student ID number he handed it to me with a bored, “Sign here.”
    “Thanks,” said Mom, though she didn’t seem all that grateful.
    There was a bank of five elevators, all waiting with doors open on the ground floor. I guess no one was working on a sunny Sunday afternoon. We stepped inside the middle one and were soon whisked up to the 8 th floor.
    We exited in front of a glass door engraved with the same Temple of Truth logo I’d seen at the entrance to The Warrington. Mom swiped her keycard and the door unlocked. I was apprehensive as we entered the office. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I was quickly disappointed by its blandness. There was a large open space with a reception desk and rows of cubicles. Nothing weird. Nothing suspicious.
    “So. Here we are,” announced Mom. “Most of these guys are on my team. You know – programmers and researchers.”
    “Cool, cool,” I responded, looking around. Kiddie photos on desks, memos pinned to cubicle walls, yellow notes stuck on computer monitors... it could hardly have been more typical. Snore...
    “And my office is over here,” she continued, striding toward the back of the room.
    I followed her, taking in every scrap of information I could and checking out every object that caught my eye, but none of it was the slightest bit unusual. She opened a door marked “Emily Marriner – Chief Software Engineer” and entered the spacious corner office. Even though we weren’t particularly high up, she had a great view of Columbus Circle and the entrance to the park.
    “Pretty neat, eh?” said Mom proudly. And you know what – she was right to be proud. She’d done super well for herself and totally deserved some props (as well as the salary that went with a job like hers).
    “It’s awesome, Mom!” I congratulated her.
    Her office was actually kinda bare. No bookshelf, no filing cabinet. I guess when you work in software, there’s not much call