The Circle

Mae.”
    “Sorry. I didn’t hear it right. Now I know who you are.”
    Annie snorted. “What, did you two little girls tell each other all about Francis’s
     big night? He’s been writing Mae’s name in his notebook, surrounded by hearts?”
    Josef inhaled indulgently. “No, he just said he’d met someone very nice, and her name
     was Mae.”
    “That’s so sweet,” Sabine said.
    “He told her he was in security,” Annie said. “Why would he do that, Josef?”
    “That’s not what he said,” Mae insisted. “I told you that.”
    Annie didn’t seem to care. “Well, I guess you could call it security. He’s in child
     safety. He’s basically the core of this whole program to prevent abductions. He actually
     could do it.”
    Sabine, her mouth full again, was nodding vigorously. “Of course he will,” she said,
     spraying fragments of salad and vinaigrette. “It’s a done deal.”
    “What is?” Mae asked. “He’s going to prevent all abductions?”
    “He could,” Josef said. “He’s motivated.”
    Annie’s eyes went wide. “Did he tell you about his sisters?”
    Mae shook her head. “No, he didn’t say he had siblings. What about his sisters?”
    All three Circlers looked at each other, as if to gauge if the story had to be told
     there and then.
    “It’s the worst story,” Annie said. “His parents were such fuckups. I think there
     were like four or five kids in the family, and Francis was youngest or second-youngest,
     and anyway the dad was in jail, and the mom was on drugs, so the kids were sent all
     over the place. I think one went to his aunt and uncle, and his two sisters were sent
     to some foster home, and then they were abducted from there. I guess there was some
     doubt if they were, you know, given or sold to the murderers.”
    “The what?” Mae had gone limp.
    “Oh god, they were raped and kept in closets and their bodies were dropped down some
     kind of abandoned missile silo. I mean, it was the worst story ever. He told a bunch
     of us about it when he was pitching this child safety program. Shit, look at your
     face. I shouldn’t have said all this.”
    Mae couldn’t speak.
    “It’s important that you know,” Josef said. “This is why he’s so passionate. I mean,
     his plan would pretty much eliminate the possibility of anything like this ever happening
     again. Wait. What time is it?”
    Annie checked her phone. “You’re right. We gotta scoot. Bailey’s doing an unveiling.
     We should be in the Great Hall.”
    The Great Hall was in the Enlightenment, and when they entered the venue, a 3,500-seat
     cavern appointed in warm woods and brushed steel, it was loud with anticipation. Mae
     and Annie found one of the last pairs of seats in the second balcony and sat down.
    “Just finished this a few months ago,” Annie said. “Forty-five million dollars. Bailey
     modeled the stripes off the Duomo in Siena. Nice, right?”
    Mae’s attention was pulled to the stage, where a man was walking to a lucite podium,
     amid a roar of applause. He was a tall man of about forty-five, round in the gut but
     not unhealthy, wearing jeans and blue V-neck sweater. There was no discernible microphone,
     but when he began speaking, his voice was amplified and clear.
    “Hello everyone. My name is Eamon Bailey,” he said, to another round of applause that
     he quickly discouraged. “Thank you. I’m so glad to see you all here. A bunch of you
     are new to the company since I last spoke, one whole month ago. Can the newbies stand
     up?” Annie nudged Mae. Mae stood, and looked around the auditorium to see about sixty
     other people standing, most of them her age, all of them seeming shy, all of them
     quietly stylish, together representing every race and ethnicity and, thanks to the
     Circle’s efforts to ease permits for international staffers, a dizzying range of national
     origins. The clapping from the rest of the Circlers was loud, a sprinkling of whoops
     mixed in. She sat down.
    “You’re so cute when you blush,” Annie said.
    Mae sunk into her seat.
    “Newbies,” Bailey said, “you’re in for something special. This is called Dream Friday,
     where we present something we’re working on. Often it’s one of our engineers or designers
     or visionaries, and sometimes it’s just me. And today, for better or for worse, it’s
     just me. For that I apologize in advance.”
    “We love you Eamon!” came a voice from the audience. Laughter followed.
    “Well