Jane Actually
night, Mary.”
“’Night Jane.”
Mary stood for a minute with the door open and then allowed it to close and returned to her room.
Jane travelled the hallway and into the lobby. Naturally the night receptionist didn’t look up when she entered. She suddenly realized that she could not leave the lobby without someone to open the front doors.
I haven’t made a mistake like this in some time
, she thought.
I’ve become too accustomed to having a living companion.
She now regretted her earlier self congratulation about checking the exits, but as she walked toward the reception desk, she caught an AfterNet field and realized it was her way to communicate to the receptionist. A cheerful “Welcome to the Park International Hotel” message was immediately triggered, followed by another message that said, “The following information is meant for the site developer for debugging purposes. Error Occurred While Processing Request. Corrupt table.”
Then she noticed the sign on the front desk that said, “Oops, our AfterNet server is down. The nearest public terminal is in the Sainsbury’s.” 1
No matter. Surely someone will leave or arrive and I can escape.
But she waited fifteen minutes before the front doors opened to admit a returning hotel guest. She raced for the opening and just missed being caught as the doors closed behind her. She found herself on the sidewalk and glided in the direction of the Gloucester Road tube station.
Traffic was still busy on the Cromwell Road but of course for Jane it was all silence. She could imagine the sounds of the people as they walked by but she could not imagine what motorized traffic must sound like. She could only guess that cars and trucks must be louder than the carriages she knew. She had never actually heard a self-powered mechanical device such as a steam engine, which she thought would be the closest equivalent in her time.
She moved quickly for she knew that because of planned disruptions—she did have the sense earlier to check the Transport for London website—service on the Circle and District lines would end about a quarter to eleven.
She thought she made it to the Gloucester Road station in good time but still worried, so she flew through the turnstiles and down the stairs to the platform and luckily found a District Line train just arriving. Only a handful of people left the train and only three people got on, and none into the car she had chosen. She marvelled at the lack of crowding, which she could only attribute to it being Monday.
The train remained still almost a full minute, however, with the doors still open. She began to worry that service had ended when finally the doors closed and the train began to move.
Her car contained only five passengers and so she had plenty of room to herself and could ride in comfort to Westminster station. She was able to exit without difficulty. Even riding up the escalators was easy.
Because of her recent efforts at writing something fresh, she thought of the young woman she’d followed to the Cabinet War Rooms all those years ago and wondered if it were possible to visit the attraction.
Mary lay in bed, wondering how much trouble Jane might get in. It’s true she could have refused to open the door, but Mary worked for Jane, not Melody. She was more frightened of Melody, but Jane was the one who could fire her.
Although good luck getting an avatar by tomorrow. And say goodbye to all the publicity photos we’ve taken. I guess I have a little more leverage than I thought. Damn, I shouldn’t have let her go out on her own. But it’s not like I could have tailed her. Ah crap, I should have put my foot down.
The real reason she was upset had nothing to do with being blamed. She was just worried about Jane on her own. There were always stories about the disembodied going missing or being trapped in a closet or a bathroom for days or weeks—or in a storage room for months or years.
She’s survived on her own without my help for a very long time. She’ll be fine.
She got up from the bed and retrieved the remote from the little writing desk. Despite Jane’s disparagement, the hotel on Cromwell Road was quite nice. It was actually three merged Georgian row houses. She thought it looked very grand and imposing from the outside, but inside their room was miniscule. Jane joked it must have been servants’ quarters, although as it was on the British first floor, that was unlikely. The bed was so large
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