Episode 1 - The Beam

of a small group in his office at District Zero’s Enterprise building. His shoulders were straight, his hands clenched behind his back. He had a sculpted, handsome jaw and steely eyes that were technically brown but that sometimes seemed closer to silver. He had a carefree, unassuming haircut with nary a hair out of place, and wore his trim blue suit and silk band tie as if he’d been poured into them.
    The group was as elite as its tiny size suggested. There was nothing especially difficult about its current mission, but this mission above all others required trust and clearance. It was the kind of mission that nobody could know about, because it would make the Enterprise seem two-faced and unsettled. And of course, that was exactly the impression they wanted people to have about the Directorate.
    “We were stationed around the Aphora’s crowd,” said a thin black man named Eams. “Bernie started with the boos, like you saw on the Beam feed. The tomatoes — the first ones, anyway — came from Gloria. Her idea, by the way.”
    “High five, Gloria,” said Micah, showing a few teeth in a friendly smile. He held out a hand. Gloria was nowhere near him, but she raised her own, and air-clapped toward him.
    “I still think we shouldn’t throw shit that isn’t natural to carry. Why would anyone would bring tomatoes to a concert?” said an agent with a surfer’s swept-back blonde hair. He was dressed immaculately now, but Micah had seen the feed from his sister-in-law’s concert and had managed to pick out Craig, with his surfer’s hair. He’d worn a shabby 2060’s vintage tux and had looked as absurd as the rest of the attending Directorates.
    Gloria started to answer, but Micah, pacing, beat her to it. “It doesn’t matter. You’d bring tomatoes if you knew in advance that you wanted to throw them, same as you’d bring a bouquet of flowers. Throwing things at Natasha Ryan’s feet is an NAU pastime. So if they aren’t running a search at the door, we’re allowed to bring whatever. It’s fine. Upset Directorate would bring tomatoes to throw.”
    “But why would they attend at all?”
    Micah locked his eyes (charming, not threatening) on the agent with the surfer’s hair. “To cause unrest, Craig. To unsettle the populace. To riot. What is it you don’t understand?”
    “It just seems like it’d be a waste for them. Most of the people have to buy their way into places like the Aphora. Do you know how many credits it costs?”
    “Yes, of course I do. I authorized the tickets. It would have been nice to win tickets like the rest of the raff in the back, but it seemed a smarter use of our resources to order them rather than trying to win them one at a time.”
    Several agents snickered. A few looked toward Micah as they did, hungry for their leader’s approval, dying for him to know they got his joke and thought it funny.
    “Look,” said Micah, still pacing, his voice taking on a lecturing tone, “you’ve seen the feed. The boos start at the edges and then bleed through the room. The things you threw came from everywhere. But the rear and middle were open seating, and the tickets there are priced so that lower-ranking Directorate can still theoretically afford them if they don’t mind blowing a ton of credits for a special occasion. But you can win tickets for all of those areas, so nobody would assume that rioters paid through the nose in order to come in and make trouble. Have you seen the reactions from people who don’t know we planted you there? It comes off as a genuine riot caused by Directorate malcontents. At an affair like a Ryan concert, party lines are sharply drawn. It’s almost all rich Enterprise, then a few high-ranking Directorate who actually allow themselves to enjoy art, then a small group of raff who won their tickets somewhere. So just put yourself in the shoes of a Directorate contest winner: you’re barely scraping by, living on a credit dole that hasn’t risen in years, despite inflation. Maybe you’ve picked up an extra job — one that’s held off automation specifically so you can do it, like a pity job. Either way you’re edging it, barely feeding your family and never going on vacation. You’ve had almost six years in your current situation, and it’s terrible, but you can’t blame the party because you know that deep down, when Shift comes, you’ll stay Directorate. You’re not equipped for Enterprise. I mean, what would you do if the government