Vicious Circle

J.J.’s eyebrows rose. I knew they did because I saw the crease appear and then fade again on her forehead. The eyebrows themselves were gray, like the hair on her head, and pencil-sliver thin so they couldn’t be seen unless you were right up close.

“I’ll add you to the roster,” she said, mildly.

“I meant tonight.”

J.J. smiled a tight, pained smile. “That would be more difficult to arrange. We have a formal booking system now, and the time slots for tonight are entirely filled. Probably the earliest I could fit you in would be in about three or four days’ time.”

“I just need a couple of minutes. Couldn’t you squeeze me in as someone else is clocking off?”

She shook her head with an expression on her face that was indistinguishable from genuine regret. “No, I’m afraid not, Felix,” she said. “Everything goes through one of the oversight boards, and I can’t preempt their decision. Even for a friend.” She paused, frowned for a moment in thought, and I waited for the other shoe to drop. “For a colleague, though,” she said, “it would be different. If you had an active and current attachment to the unit, I mean. I could stretch a point then, and be reasonably sure that the board wouldn’t smack my hand for it afterwards.”

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but then again if all she wanted was a promise I could be every bit as radiantly insincere as she could. “Well, I’m pretty busy right now,” I said, “but when I’ve got an opening, I could maybe come over and do some chores for you.”

Jenna-Jane nodded enthusiastically. “Excellent,” she said. “There’s one thing I’d love to have you do for us.”

“What’s that?” I was already standing, trying to hustle her on to the next stage in the proceedings, but when it comes to immovable objects and irresistible forces, J.J. can play both ends against the middle.

“You can persuade your friend Rafael Ditko to sign himself into our care.”

My face froze, and so did I, halfway between sitting down and standing up. In the end I went for standing up, because it got me a bit of distance from her.

“Sorry,” I said. “That one’s not on the table.”

“Isn’t it?” She was all innocent inquiry. “I had a call from Dr. Webb a couple of days ago. He seemed to feel that it might be better for Mr. Ditko to be in an environment that’s more directly and intentionally geared towards dealing with the kind of problem that he faces.”

“J.J., no offense, but in here Rafi would be the problem. You don’t distinguish between the carrier wave and the signal.”

Jenna-Jane seemed hurt. “That’s a rather opaque metaphor, Felix. And it’s very far from the truth. I’m aware that Ditko and the demon inside him are two distinct entities. I’m probably more cognizant of what that means than you are, and better able to understand the mechanism by which it works. I would never confuse your friend with the passenger he has the misfortune to carry.”

“No? So you wouldn’t, for the sake of argument, be tempted to try stabbing Rafi with a pitchfork to see if Asmodeus bleeds?”

Jenna-Jane’s disguise is close to being perfect, so there was no sign of anger or frustration on her face. She just shook her head, as if that harsh remark were the latest proof that she was never meant to live in a world as cruel and unfeeling as this.

“My first concern would be Ditko’s well-being,” she said, solemnly.

“It’s not negotiable, Jenna-Jane.”

“Then neither is Rosie, Felix. I’ll add you to the roster, and you’ll get a call within the next few days. Unless, of course, someone on the oversight board has any doubts about your suitability.”

“And are you on the oversight board, Jenna-Jane?” I asked.

“Yes. Of course. I’m one of four faculty members, balanced by three—”

I raised my hand to stop the flow. “Thanks,” I said. “I get the picture. Give my regards to any of the old gang you still see.”

“Of course.”

“And fall downstairs and break your neck while you’re doing it. The next time I drop in, I’d love to see you in a persistently vegetative state.”

“Felix!” I walked out on that tone of reproach—identical to the one I’d walked in on. I didn’t want to see the expression that went with it.

What I did see, on my way back to the guard post, was one of those alarm points with its sternly worded notice. It gave me an idea that was hard to resist. I smashed the glass with my elbow and hit the button. A deep, two-tone whoop sounded from all sides at once. I kept moving, dredging up my memories of the unit’s floor plan. There ought to be a corridor off on my right somewhere up ahead.

There was. Turning into it, I saw a whole lot of people running toward me, some of them in the dark blue uniforms of the security staff. I braced myself, but they ran on past me without giving me so much as a glance. A second wave followed a hundred yards farther on, and then I turned into a short side corridor with just the one door at the end of it.