The Circle

before?”
    Mae wanted to say, but couldn’t, that she had seen this very room before. “Not remotely,”
     she said.
    Something happened in Bailey’s face at that moment, some twitch that seemed to bring
     the left corner of his eye and the left side of his mouth closer together.
    “Thank you Dontae,” Bailey said.
    Dontae smiled and left, closing the heavy door behind him.
    “So Mae. Tea?” Bailey was standing before an antique tea set, a silver pot emitting
     a narrow corkscrew of steam.
    “Sure,” she said.
    “Green? Black?” he asked, smiling. “Grey?”
    “Green, thanks. But you don’t have to.”
    Bailey was busy with the preparations. “You’ve known our beloved Annie a long time?”
     he asked, pouring carefully.
    “I have. Since sophomore year in college. Five years now.”
    “Five years! That’s, what, thirty percent of your life!”
    Mae knew he was rounding up a bit, but she emitted a tiny laugh. “I guess so. A long
     time.” He handed her a saucer and cup and gestured for her to sit down. There were
     two chairs, both leather and overstuffed.
    Bailey dropped himself into his chair with a loud sigh, and rested his ankle on his
     knee. “Well, Annie is very important to us here, and thus you are, too. She talks
     about you like you could end up being very valuable to this community. Do you believe
     that’s true?”
    “That I could be valuable here?”
    He nodded, then blew on his tea. He looked over his teacup to her, his eyes steady.
     She met his gaze, then, briefly overwhelmed, she looked away, only to find his face
     again, this time in a framed photo on a nearby shelf. It was a formal portrait of
     Bailey’s family in black and white, his three girls standing around their mother and
     Bailey, who were both sitting. Bailey’s son was on his lap, wearing a tracksuit and
     holding an Iron Man action figure.
    “Well, I hope so,” Mae said. “I’ve been trying as hard as I can. I love the Circle,
     and can’t express how much I appreciate the opportunity I’ve been given here.”
    Bailey smiled. “Good, good. So tell me, how are you feeling about what happened last
     night?” He asked the question as if genuinely curious, as if her answer might go in
     any number of directions.
    Mae was on firm ground now. No obfuscation was necessary. “Terrible,”she said. “I barely slept. I’m so ashamed I want to puke.” She wouldn’t have used
     the word when talking to Stenton, but she felt Bailey might appreciate the coarseness.
    He smiled almost imperceptibly and moved on. “Mae, let me ask you a question. Would
     you have behaved differently if you’d known about the SeeChange cameras at the marina?”
    “Yes.”
    Bailey nodded empathetically. “Okay. How?”
    “I wouldn’t have done what I did.”
    “And why not?”
    “Because I would have been caught.”
    Bailey tilted his head. “Is that all?”
    “Well, I wouldn’t want anyone seeing me do that. It wasn’t right. It’s embarrassing.”
    He put his cup on the table next to him and rested his hands on his lap, his palms
     in a gentle embrace. “So in general, would you say you behave differently when you
     know you’re being watched?”
    “Sure. Of course.”
    “And when you’ll be held accountable.”
    “Yes.”
    “And when there will be a historical record. That is, when or if your behavior will
     be permanently accessible. That a video of your behavior, for example, will exist
     forever.”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. And do you remember my talk from earlier in the summer, about the ultimate
     goal of SeeChange?”
    “I know it would eliminate most crime, if there was full saturation.”
    Bailey seemed pleased. “Right. Correct. Everyday citizens, like Gary Katz and Walt
     Lefebvre in this instance, because they took the time to set up their cameras, they
     help keep us all safe. The crime was minor in this case, and there were no victims,
     thank god. You’re alive. Marion’s business, and the kayaking industry generally, lives
     to see another day. But one night of selfishness from you could have risked it all.
     The individual act has reverberations that can be nearly endless. Do you agree?”
    “I do. I know. It’s unconscionable.” And here Mae again had the feeling that she was
     a very short-sighted person, who repeatedly jeopardized all she’d been given by the
     Circle.
    “Mr. Bailey, I can’t believe I did this. And I know you’re wondering if I fit in here.
     I just want you to