At first it was as if she had excised the incident from her memory; she had not allowed her thoughts to dwell on New York and Bilal, had not even discussed the incident with Kapil.
Then, shortly after the birth of her son, all that had changed; it was as if she had reached a place of safety from which she could look back with impunity and consider what had happened all those years ago.
And, surprising herself, she found that she did not hate Bilal for what he had tried to do. Despite the hurt that she still felt, she pitied him. He had been driven by motives unknown to her, motives imparted no doubt by the organisation for which he worked. Slowly the idea of tracking him down and confronting him had taken root and grown, to be dismissed at first and then, latterly, to be considered as a very real option if she wished to move on. She wanted to put the incident behind her, find out just why he had done what he had done, and perhaps learn if he’d had time to regret his actions. She thought that that would be unlikely, but she was curious to find out nevertheless.
She was curious, too, about how the Serene might have censored, or even punished, her brother. He had committed a crime directly opposed to the Serene’s regime on Earth, had sided with the Obterek, and she wondered what punishment, if any, the Serene might have seen fit to mete out to Bilal.
She finished her mocha and realised that the anguish she thought she might experience here, a recapitulation of the confusion and fear she had gone through ten years ago, had failed to transpire. Smiling to herself, she left the café and walked south towards the rearing skyscraper where the Morwell organisation had its headquarters.
She strolled in the sunlight with crowds of smiling New Yorkers. There was a carnival atmosphere in the air, and she might have been forgiven for thinking that there was some special event towards which the citizens were heading, a concert or arts festival.
She stared around her at the smiling faces. Many people here were so young that they had never known a world without the influence of the Serene; others were old enough to recall the old times, and to cherish the new.
As she turned along the street on which the Morwell tower stood, she thought back to what Nina Ricci had told them at the Allen’s party. It was odd, but she had never really questioned the motives of the Serene; she had seen the beneficial effect of their intervention in the affairs of humankind, and felt disinclined to ascribe any motive other than altruism. So she had no idea exactly what she and thousands of other human representatives did in the obelisks, but so what? And as for what the Serene were doing on the outer edges of the solar system…? Again, she felt disinclined to enquire; she trusted the Serene, and left it at that.
But, she wondered now, shouldn’t she feel just the slightest curiosity?
She recalled an argument she’d had with the prickly Nina Ricci. Ricci had just been elected to the legislative assembly of Mars and was understandably full of herself. They had been at one of the Allens’ monthly parties, and Ana had said something about the effect of the Serene being wholly good. Nina, whose clinical intelligence and thick skin inured her to the criticism of her peers, had turned on Ana and snapped, “What an ill-considered statement, Ana. How can you say that when you are not in full command of all the facts?”
Ana had blinked, surprised at the vitriol in the Italian’s tone. “But I’m basing the statement on what I have experienced of society and how it’s been affected by the arrival of the Serene. Anyway, what facts might I possess that would make me think otherwise?”
Nina had smiled her insufferably self-satisfied smile and said, “Until we understand the motivations of the Serene, we can only make partial and ill-formed judgements. Stating that the effect of the Serene has been wholly good is dangerous.”
Others at this point had entered the argument, and Ana had taken the opportunity to slip away from the group.
Since then, she had wondered increasingly at the motives of the Serene — but for the life of her could only discern the benefits of their intervention.
She stopped on the sidewalk and craned her head to take in the enormity of the tower before her. It rose dizzyingly, and she experienced a kind of vertigo as she strained to see to the very summit of the glass-enclosed needle. At the top, tiny at this distance, was the rotating Morwell Organisation symbol, an entwined MO surrounded by laurel leaves — a touch which Ana thought either crass or ironic.
She wondered if she would find her brother unchanged in ten years; would he still be the same brash, materialistic, Serene-hating businessman she had encountered last time? Or might the intervening years and his experience of the Serene have worked to mellow him?
She stepped through the sliding glass doors and crossed an atrium the size of an arboretum — which it resembled, with its overabundance of potted palms and leafy ferns.
She found the reception desk and approached a smiling, uniformed woman in her twenties with the beauty and hauteur of a catwalk model.
“I wonder if you might be able to help me? I’d like to make an appointment to meet Bilal Devi, Mr James Morwell’s –”
Smiling the woman interrupted, “I’m afraid that James Morwell is no longer associated with the Morwell Organisation.”
Ana blinked. “And his personal assistant, Bilal Devi?”
“One moment, please…” She turned to a softscreen on her desktop and played long fingers across its surface.
She looked up, her smiled fixed, and said, “My records show that Mr Devi left the Organisation almost nine years ago.”
The information surprised Ana. “He left? Ah… do you have any idea where he might be found?”
The receptionist’s smile became sympathetic. “I’m sorry, no, Ms…?”
“Devi. Ana Devi. You see, Bilal Devi is my brother and I am trying to find him.”
The woman appeared sympathetic. “Perhaps…” She glanced at her screen again. “What I can do is refer you to Personnel. There is a chance that they might be able to help.”
Ana thanked the woman who stroked her screen, tapped her fingers in a blur, then looked up at Ana and said, “If you go to the Personnel office on the fiftieth floor, Helena Lopez will see you at once.”
She thanked the receptionist again and made her way to the elevator pods.
On her ascent to the fiftieth floor, Ana wondered why Bilal had left the Morwell Organisation. It was too much to hope that he had seen the error of his ways, she thought; more likely that he had been sacked — a demotion organised by the Serene?
The head of Personnel turned out to be a motherly woman in her sixties who listened to Ana’s story with a sympathetic smile, then referred to a softscreen.
“Here we are… Bilal Devi. He resigned his post as James Morwell’s PA in August 2037, just after James made an attempt to kill himself.”
“Do you have any record of where my brother went, or might be now?”
“That kind of information is not kept on our records… But I know someone who knew Bilal around the time of his resignation. If you would care to wait while I…?”
“Of course.”
The woman murmured something into a throat-mic, waited for a reply, then smiled across at Ana. “Ben will be down shortly. Can I get you a coffee?”