The Circle

the number of artists recommended to her: 3,408. There
     was the number of images in her library, 33,002, and number of images recommended
     to her, 100,038. There was the temperature inside the building, 70, and the temperature
     outside, 71. There was the number of staffers on campus that day, 10,981, and number
     of visitors to campus that day, 248. Mae had news alerts set for 45 names and subjects,
     and each time any one of them was mentioned by any of the news feeds she favored,
     she received a notice. That day there were 187. She could see how many people had
     viewed her profile that day, 210, and how much time on average they spent: 1.3 minutes.
     If she wanted, of course, she could go deeper, and see precisely what each person
     had viewed. Her health stats added a few dozen more numbers, each of them giving her
     a sense of great calm and control. She knew her heart rate and knew it was right.
     She knew her step count, almost 8,200 that day, and knew that she could get to 10,000
     with ease. She knew she was properly hydrated and that her caloric intake that day
     was within accepted norms for someone of her body-mass index. It occurred to her,
     in a moment of sudden clarity, that what had always caused her anxiety, or stress,
     or worry, was not any one force, nothing independent and external—it wasn’t danger
     to herself or the constant calamity of other people and their problems. It was internal:
     it was subjective: it was
not knowing
. It wasn’t that she had an argument with a friend or was called on the carpet by
     Josiah and Denise: it was not knowing what it meant, not knowing their plans, not
     knowing the consequences, the future. If she knew these, there would be calm. She
     knew, with some degree of certainty, where her parents were: home, as always. Shecould see, with her CircleSearch, where Annie was: in her office, probably still working,
     too. But where was Kalden? It had been two weeks since she’d seen or heard from him.
     She texted Annie.
    You awake?
    Always
.
    Still haven’t heard from Kalden
.
    The old man? Maybe he died. He had a good long life
.
    You really think he was just some interloper?
    I think you dodged a bullet. I’m glad he hasn’t come back. I was worried about the
     espionage possibilities
.
    He wasn’t a spy
.
    Then he was just old. Maybe some Circler’s grandfather came to visit and got lost?
     It’s just as well. You were too young to be a widow
.
    Mae thought of his hands. His hands had ruined her. All she wanted at that moment
     was his hands upon her again. His hand on her sacrum, pulling her close. Could her
     desires be so simple? And where in the hell had he gone? He had no right to disappear
     like this. She checked CircleSearch again; she’d looked for him a hundred times this
     way, with no success. But she had a right to know where he was. To at least know where
     he was, who he was. This was the unnecessary, and antiquated, burden of uncertainty.
     She could know, instantly, the temperature in Jakarta, but she couldn’t find one man
     on a campus like this? Where is that man who touched you a certain way? If she could
     eliminate this kind of uncertainty—when and by whom would you be touched a certain
     way again—you would eliminate most of the stressors of the world, and maybe, too,
     the wave of despair that was gathering in Mae’s chest. She’d been feeling this, this
     black rip, this loud tear, within her, a few times a week. It didn’t usually last
     long,but when she closed her eyes she saw a tiny tear in what seemed to be black cloth,
     and through this tiny tear she heard the screams of millions of invisible souls. It
     was a very strange thing, she realized, and it wasn’t anything she’d mentioned to
     anyone. She might have described it to Annie, but didn’t want to worry her so soon
     into her time at the Circle. But what was this feeling? Who was screaming through
     the tear in the cloth? She’d found the best way to get past it was to redouble her
     focus, to stay busy, to give more. She had a brief, silly thought that she might find
     Kalden on LuvLuv. She checked, and felt stupid when her doubts were confirmed. The
     tear was opening up inside her, a blackness overtaking her. She closed her eyes and
     heard underwater screams. Mae cursed the not-knowing, and knew she needed someone
     who could be known. Who could be located.
    The knock on the door was low and tentative.
    “It’s open,” Mae said.
    Francis