The Circle

lost themselves for hours and passed out.
    She called Annie. “We consummated.”
    “Who did? You and the old man?”
    “He’s not old.”
    “He didn’t have a musty smell? Did he mention his pacemaker or diapers? Don’t tell
     me he died on you.”
    “He’s not even thirty.”
    “Did you get his last name this time?”
    “No, but he gave me a number where I can call him.”
    “Oh, that’s classy. And have you tried it?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Not yet?”
    Mae’s stomach tightened. Annie exhaled loudly.
    “You know I’m worried about him being some kind of spy or stalker. Did you confirm
     that he’s legit?”
    “I did. He works at the Circle. He said he knew you, and he had access to lots of
     places. He’s normal. Maybe a little eccentric.”
    “Access to places? What do you mean?” Annie’s tone took on a new edge.
    At that moment, Mae knew she would begin lying to Annie. Mae wanted to be with Kalden
     again, wanted to throw herself around him at that moment, and she didn’t want Annie
     to do anything to jeopardize her access to him, and his broad shoulders, his elegant
     silhouette.
    “I just mean he knew his way around,” Mae said. There was a part of her that thought
     he might indeed be there illegally, that he was some interloper, and, in a sudden
     revelation, she realized he might be living in that strange underground lair. He might
     represent some force opposed to the Circle. Maybe he worked for Senator Williamson
     in some capacity, or some would-be competitor to the Circle. Maybe he was a simple
     nobody blogger-stalker who wanted to get closer to the machine at the center of the
     world.
    “So you consummated where? In your dorm?”
    “Yup,” Mae said. It was not so difficult to lie this way.
    “And he slept over?”
    “No, he had to get home.” And, realizing that the longer she spent talking to Annie
     the more lies she would tell, Mae concocted a reason to hang up. “I’m supposed to
     get hooked up for the CircleSurvey today,” she said. Which was more or less true.
    “Call me later. And you have to get his name.”
    “Okay.”
    “Mae, I’m not your boss. I don’t want to be your supervisor or anything. But the company
     needs to know who this guy is. Company security’s something we have to take seriously.
     Let’s get him nailed down today, okay?” Annie’s voice had changed; she sounded like
     a displeased superior. Mae held her anger and hung up.
    Mae called the number Kalden had given her. But when she did, the phone rang without
     end. There was no voicemail. And again Mae realized she had no way to get in touch
     with him. Intermittently, throughout the night, she’d thought to ask him his last
     name, for any other kind of information, but the time was never right, and he hadn’t
     asked for hers, and she assumed that when they left each other, they would exchange
     information. But then they’d forgotten. She, at least, had forgotten. How had they
     parted, after all? He walked her to the dorms, and kissed her again, there, under
     the doorway. Or maybe not. Mae thought again, and remembered he’d done what he did
     before: he’d pulled her aside, out of the light of the doorway, and he’d kissed her
     four times, on her forehead, her chin, each cheek, the sign of the cross. Then he
     spun away from her, disappearing into the shadows near the waterfall, the one where
     Francis found the wine.
    During lunch Mae made her way to the Cultural Revolution, where, at the behest of
     Jared and Josiah and Denise, she would be outfitted to answer CircleSurveys. She had
     been assured this was a reward, an honor, and an enjoyable one—to be one of the Circlers
     asked abouther tastes, her preferences, her buying habits and plans, for use by the Circle’s
     clients.
    “This is really the right next step for you,” Josiah had said.
    Denise had nodded. “I think you’ll love it.”
    Pete Ramirez was a blandly handsome man a few years older than Mae, whose office seemed
     to have no desk, no chairs, no right angles. It was round, and when Mae entered, he
     was standing, talking on a headset, swinging a baseball bat, and looking out the window.
     He waved her in and finished his call. He was still holding the bat with his left
     hand when he shook her hand with his right.
    “Mae Holland. So good to have you. I know you’re on lunch, so we’ll be quick. You’ll
     be out in seven minutes if you forgive my brusqueness,