The Circle

dipping to 98, and though
     she sent multiple follow-ups to these three, she got no satisfaction. She knew she’d
     have to get twenty-two or so 100s to average the 98 up to 100 overall; she checked
     the clock. It was 12:44. She had plenty of time. Another message came from Helena,
     asking about jobs at the Circle. Mae offered her usual advice, and sent her the email
     address of the HR department.
Can you put in a good word for me?
Helena asked. Mae said she would do as much as she could, given they had never met.
But you know me pretty well by now!
Helena said, and then directed her to her own profile page. She encouragedMae to read her essays about wildlife preservation, and the essay she used to get
     into college, which she said was still relevant. Mae said she would try to read them
     when she could. Wildlife and New Mexico brought Mercer to mind. That self-righteous
     waste. Where was that man who made love to her on the edge of the Grand Canyon? They
     had both been so comfortably lost then, when he picked her up from college and they
     drove through the Southeast with no schedule, no itineary, never with any idea of
     where they’d stay that night. They passed through New Mexico in a blizzard and then
     to Arizona where they parked, and found a cliff overlooking the canyon, with no fences,
     and there under a noonday sun he undressed her, a four-thousand-foot drop behind her.
     He held her and she had no doubts because he was strong then. He was young then, he
     had vision then. Now he was old and acted older. She looked up the profile page she’d
     set up for him, and found it blank. She made an inquiry to tech and found he’d been
     trying to take it down. She sent him a zing and got no answer. She looked up his business
     page but it had been taken down, too; there was only a message saying he was now running
     an analog-only business. Another message came through from Helena:
What did you think?
Mae told her she hadn’t had time to read anything yet, and the next message was from
     Edward, Helena’s father:
It sure would mean a lot if you were to recommend Helena for a job there at the Circle.
     No pressure but we’re counting on you!
Mae told them, again, that she’d do her best. A notice came through her second screen
     about a Circle campaign to eradicate smallpox in West Africa. She signed her name,
     sent a smile, pledged fifty dollars, and sent a zing about it. She saw immediately
     that Helena and Edward rezinged the message.
We’re doing
our
part!
Edward wrote.
Quid pro quo?
It was 1:11 when the blackness sweptthrough her. Her mouth tasted acidic. She closed her eyes and saw the tear, now filled
     with light. She opened her eyes again. She took a swallow of water but it only seemed
     to heighten her panic. She checked her watchers; there were only 23,010, but she didn’t
     want to show them her eyes, fearing they would betray her anxiety. She closed them
     again, which she felt would seem natural enough for a minute, after so many hours
     in front of the screen.
Just resting the eyes
, she typed and sent. But when she closed them again, she saw the tear, clearer now,
     louder now. What was the sound she was hearing? It was a scream muffled by fathomless
     waters, that high-pitched scream of a million drowned voices. She opened her eyes.
     She called her parents. No answer. She wrote to them, nothing. She called Annie. No
     answer. She wrote to her, nothing. She looked her up in the CircleSearch but she wasn’t
     on campus. She went to Annie’s profile page, scrolled through a few hundred photos,
     most of them from her Europe-China trip, and, feeling her eyes burn, she closed them
     again. And again she saw the rip, the light trying to get through, the underwater
     screams. She opened her eyes. Another message came through from Edward.
Mae? You out there? Sure would be nice to know if you can help out. Do write back
. Could Mercer really disappear like this? She was determined to find him. She searched
     for him, for messages he might have sent to others. Nothing. She called him, but his
     number had been disconnected. Such an aggressive move, to change your number and leave
     no new one. What had she seen in him? His disgusting fat back, those terrible patches
     of hair on his shoulders. Jesus, where was he? There was something very wrong when
     you couldn’t find someone you were trying to find. It was 1:32.
Mae? Edward again. Can you reassure Helena that you’ll look at her