"Monitoring used criminals?"
Zan was looking distracted, but nodded. "Or children considered at risk."
Or conscripted strays, I thought. In a way I’m almost glad, because every time I start to think about being heroically self-sacrificing, the words "second level monitoring" are going to help me immensely.
I looked up as Maze put a tray on the table next to me and sat down, his mouth set. I was willing to bet he was the reason Zan had been distracted, that they’d been having a silent conversation about what I’d asked and how she’d answered.
"Do Tare have saying here," I asked, before he could say anything, "Who watches watchers?"
He blinked, then gave me one of those tired, super-nice smiles: "I think I’ve heard some variation of that. But the restrictions on monitoring are very tight."
"Is ever likely be less monitored?"
"I don’t know. Perhaps if we gain a proper understanding of your talent set. And you stop nearly dying."
I felt like arguing, demanding that I be taken off, but I could see by the way he was steeling himself that there was no hope so I held my tongue. "When everyone talk using surnames, that when official recording, right?"
"Usually. Or habit. Formality is a discipline." He glanced across at Zan, who was being super quiet and proper while she finished her dinner. "Unnecessary, I suppose, but the competitive atmosphere fosters it."
"During rotation, consistent naming is common sense," Zan said. She paused, then stood up, lifting her tray. "Good luck today, Cassandra." With a nod to Maze she left.
A first time for everything. And she’d pronounced it correctly. Pleased, I made myself forget about starring in my own reality show, and concentrate on eating my breakfast. And toyed with the idea of asking Maze if he knew or cared that half the younger Setari had the hots for him. Or why they bullied Zan. But it would be unfair, since Zan was really bothered by Maze, to go talking about her with him.
After we’d eaten, Maze gave me a lesson on extra equipment we would take while on a mission. A little food and water, a very tiny medical pack, and the breather, in case we encountered a flooded zone. Zee joined us, and reminded me practically to go to the bathroom, and then we went down and met the others at another of the sealed-up gates. I could tell by the way Zee was watching me that she and Maze had discussed second level monitoring before she arrived, but by that time I’d moved through annoyed to resigned, and switched back to being worried about gallivanting through the Ena killing monsters.
"Is all spaces okay atmosphere?" I asked, making a pocket for my breather.
"Usually," Ketzaren said. "Sometimes the air is not very pleasant, but we’ve yet to encounter one which was toxic. The theory is that only certain atmosphere types create a truly living world. Or that we are not truly breathing."
"Why this easy rotation?"
"Because it’s short, there’s nothing smart, and it never changes," Lohn said, grimacing in the middle of some slow stretches. "And it leads to Unara, as at least a quarter of all rotations do, so there’s usually not much going on in near-space either."
Maze took over talking, in captain-mode. "In addition to Tare’s near-space, we will be travelling through four spaces. The first is always bare. The second will be insects – small, and in swarms. We are not likely to allow any to get close to us, but if one strikes you, the antidote to their poison is in your medpack. After the second space we will return to Tare’s near-space and search for any Ionoth which have reached it from neighbouring spaces. The first space on the return trip is only occasionally inhabited, and the Ionoth which spawn there are large and quite slow. The last space contains three winged Ionoth. Spel will move you if necessary. Ready?"
I nodded, though my breakfast was considering not coming along. That sick feeling stayed with me the entire time, for all the mission itself went exactly the way Maze said. We crossed through near-space to a baked and dying field of plants, then to a meadow crawling with over-sized bugs which made the mistake of gathering into groups and coming at us. Lohn touched my elbow and fried them instantly, his Light wall blocking any chance of them getting close.
And then we were somewhere in the bowels of Unara, in a wind-blasted tube taller than a house which Mara said was one of the air channels which power Unara and keep it breathing. We walked along it, not finding a single Ionoth, then stepped into the bottom of a canyon with a thin stream running down the middle, and a hulking bull with wide horns crashing along one bank. All of First Squad simply went up, Ketzaren hooking me into her side and lifting effortlessly. We floated above as it ramped about, crashing and snorting, until Mara dropped down and finished it with a single, swift stroke of her Light whip. I could smell it, burnt flesh rising to cut through rank, musty animal scent, and decided to eat smaller breakfasts as we lifted up further to a gate into a forest clearing. Lohn, who was unenhanced by this time, shot three Light bolts at three precise points around the clearing, and three feathery things crashed to the ground. Then back to near-space, and through to the KOTIS facility.
Though they were as crisply professional as always, it was clear that the run had been incredibly easy for First Squad, that they knew exactly what to do before entering each space, and had been most interested in testing out their altered abilities. Maze and Zee escorted me down to medical so that all three of us could be scanned for side-effects, and discussed the effect on Combat Sight, which picks up hostile intent. They were very pleased that this doesn’t seem to be distorted. It was a good introduction, and I’m not quite so worried about the next rotation. Nothing came even close to me, and though I didn’t find the killing easy to watch, I can perfectly understand not wanting any of those things running loose on Tare.
But it’s endless, this fight. Because for all they kill off the Ionoth, the spaces still remember them, and they come back and have to be killed again. Memories. The Unara Rotation was so easy because First had done it hundreds of times, and knew exactly what the Ionoth would be and how they would behave. Over and over, an infinite number, and First Squad’s already been fighting them too long.
Saturday, February 16
The Watched
This morning I found myself avoiding looking down while dressing, and staying turned away from the mirror. Then I made myself look, because what did I have left to hide? I’d spent the night wondering if second level monitoring logs were ever deleted, or if there’d be a permanent record of me farting in the bath and laughing at the bubbles. Inspecting my armpits. Every single thing I do in the bathroom.
I don’t think I’ll ever dare masturbate again.
It didn’t occur to me to look up the laws concerning second level monitoring until breakfast. I’m too used to being kept in a box with no view of the outside. Second level monitoring is almost like parole here, far more common than I expected. There’s layers and layers of rules and controls about when the logs can be uplifted, but it’s an accepted part of the Taren justice system. There’s even a third level monitoring, where you’re basically live-streaming your life. Some people here actually do that for the kicks.
The encyclopaedia entry I found handily told me the history of the laws which had led to second level monitoring, and I guess it’s a logical progression from things like the CCTV and GPS bracelets, and I can understand why they’d put a lab rat like me on it, but NOT HAPPY, JAN.