When I pulled my moped up to the Notts’ Faire entryway, I was surprised to see a brand new security checkpoint with a car barrier. Several uniformed guards sat inside the security hut.
As I approached, a burly guard exited the hut and stepped up to me with a clipboard. Once I came to a stop, he asked, “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“I’m here for a meeting with James Mason,” I replied.
“What’s your name?” The guard asked, looking down at his clipboard.
“Alison Rook, Operations Manager,” I said.
The guard scanned his clipboard, and then replied. “Alright, Miss Rook. May I see some identification?”
“ID? Really?” I asked, perturbed. “I need my ID to go up to my own office?”
“Sorry, ma’am. It’s protocol,” the guard replied patiently.
I snorted, rolling my eyes. Lowering the kick-stand with my heel, I twisted around to unsnap the storage pack behind me. Peering inside, I realized that I’d left my wallet back at home. “Shit, I forgot my wallet,” I said.
The guard blinked at me. “I’m… sorry, ma’am. I can’t let allow you entry without a valid form of identification.”
“Seriously?” I asked bluntly. “I’m the operations manager here.” The guard blinked at me, unimpressed. “Look, can you call up to Mason. He’ll tell you who I am.”
“What about vehicle registration?” he asked.
“Seriously?” I replied, throwing serious shade at this point. “Dude, I won this scooter in a poker game. It doesn’t even hit thirty-five miles per hour. Of course it’s not registered.”
Seeing my irritation, the two other guards stepped out of the security hut with their arms folded in front of them.
The burly guard next to me pulled his walkie-talkie out of its holster and lifted it to speak. “Gate to Castle, I have someone by the name of Alison Rook here to meet Mr. Mason. She’s carrying no identification. She tells me she’s the operations manager. Can you access Notts’ database and shoot me a picture?”
After a brief pause, the voice on the other end replied, “Copy that.” Almost instantly, I heard a beep from the security hut.
One of the security guards leaned inside, looking at the computer screen. After glancing back and forth between me and the screen, he pressed a button on the control panel on the desk, raising the car barrier. Motioning his hand forward, he called to me, “You’re free to enter.”
Without saying anything, I raised the kickstand and sped beneath the raised barrier. As I rounded the turn of the long driveway into the fairegrounds, my eyes widened from the sight before me. All four parking lots were completely filled with cars. Even our busy season at the faire was hard-pressed to attract crowds like these! My eyes darted around, unable to find a single open parking space. Unwilling to take the time to drive around looking, I cruised right up to the front of lot A and rolled over the curb into the grass. Hopping off, I walked my bike behind the tree line and parked it behind some brush.
As I walked through the open gate, several guards seated inside the ticket office raised their heads to look at me. The guard closest to the door jumped to his feet and walked briskly over to the closest turnstile. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I said under my breath, “Nope, I’m good. Thanks!”
“May I ask where you’re headed?” he pressed.
Sighing, I replied “I have a meeting with Mason at the castle. Your buddies down the road already cleared me for entry.”
“Please allow me to assist you,” he replied.
I put my hand up, stubbornly. “Look, I work here. I’m the operations manager. I helped lay the flagstone that you’re standing on. I know where I’m going.”
“I’m sure you do, ma’am,” he said, apologetically. “We’re under strict orders not to allow guests to be unattended.”
“Ugh, whatever,” I spat. The guard gratefully extended his hand forward, allowing me to walk through the turnstile first. I walked briskly past him. He followed through the turnstile and sped up to walk along-side of me toward the castle. We walked down an empty Centre Street, over the cross-bridge, through the castle courtyard, and finally up to the large oak doors to the castle. The guard reached up and knocked on the door twice with the iron door knocker. Moments, the large doors swung open.
“Am I good now, officer?” I asked snarkily.
“Yes ma’am,” he replied courteously. “Have a good evening.” I rolled my eyes and walked inside the grand foyer. The large doors closed behind me. The castle foyer was buzzing with people. Businessmen, workers, and… you guessed it - more security guards. I headed for the grand staircase, relieved to have no more eyes following me. Once at the top of the staircase, I made my way to Mason’s office, my old office, at the end of the long hallway. I knocked on the door, and opened it, peeking my head inside.
“Mr. Mason?” I asked.
Mason was sitting at his desk, typing on his computer. Upon my intrusion, he looked up to meet my gaze. “Miss Rook,” he replied, “-come in.”
As I entered, Mason nodded his head toward the sofa across from him. “Take a seat,” he said. He continued typing as I sat down. A few seconds later, he finished typing and looked up at me. His eyes were tired and he seemed genuinely irritated a the prospect of having to meet me. “So, what was so urgent that you needed to speak with me about tonight?”
“Well,” I replied, weighing my words, “some of the staff is concerned about the off-season.” Mason stared blankly back at me. “Specifically, what happens here after we leave.” Mason continued to stare silently. “I noticed you’ve got some pretty intense security measures in place…” I probed. “Look, you didn’t know my uncle, but he was a good man. He was well-loved by his staff and the community. We’re all just a bit concerned that his reputation could be tarnished from… whatever it is you’ve got going on here.”
“What do you think I do here, Miss Rook?” Mason asked without hesitation.
“Honestly, I haven’t got the faintest clue. But people talk.”
“And that bothers you? What people say?” he asked.
“I…” I hesitated, not knowing how to answer. I always felt like I was visiting a therapist when I spoke with Mason. He was a master at answering questions with another question. And the way he spoke always seemed to leave me unarmed and off-guard. “I think it would bother anyone to see their life’s work blemished.”
“Blemished,” Mason repeated. He stared at me for a moment then reached up to remove his glasses. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “Miss Rook, I’m afraid I can offer you little comfort beyond my personal assurance that whatever nefarious rumors you’ve overheard are nothing more than rumors.”
“I haven’t told you what rumors I’ve overheard-” I said.
“Let me clarify,” he interrupted, “Nothing leaks outside these walls. The nature of our work here is highly classified and our security measures are unmatched. If you’ve heard rumors, I can assure you, they are either false or the products of guesswork. I’ve made a living in the business of discretion. Believe me- no blemish will come to the Notts’ family name on my account.”
Just then, a knock at the door stole Mason’s attention. The door opened and a short-haired blonde man leaned in the room. “Sir, drones 20 through 24 are still offline. Should we deploy backups?
Mason hesitated for a second and glanced back at me. “Was there anything else, Miss Rook?”
“Well, yeah...” I replied, not entirely satisfied with his answer.
Mason sighed in irritation and stood to his feet. “Please excuse me for a moment.”
He walked briskly out of the room with the blonde man. Once the door closed behind him, I exhaled deeply. For a man of so few words, Mason really was intimidating. I turned back toward his desk, replaying our conversation in my head. Somehow, I knew even less than I knew before I got here. Dealing with Mason was infuriating!
Just then, I realized that he’d left his computer screen unlocked. I glanced back towards the door, straining my ears to hear whether anyone was nearby. Nothing. So, I quietly stood to my feet and leaned over his desk to take a peak. Spinning the laptop towards me, I saw an open window titled ‘CANCELLATIONS’. It looked like a registry of sorts, resembling a digital yearbook. My heart raced as I used the track-pad to scroll down rapidly through dozens of pictures and names. I had no idea what I was looking at, but I felt like Sherlock Holmes, on the cusp of unlocking a case. Just then, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest as I scrolled past what looked like a picture of me! I frantically scrolled back up, only to realize that it was just a doppelganger. The name beneath the picture read ‘Jodie O’Connell’. She was skinny, smiling redhead, who appeared to be in her mid 20’s. Other than a few subtle differences- shorter hair, paler skin, slightly wider nose, she and I did bear an insanely striking resemblance. We could easily have been sisters.
Out of sheer curiosity, I double-clicked her image, making a new window pop up. I scanned through what looked like Jodie’s medical file. Age, height, weight, blood type, etc. And at the top of the window were two buttons. One was greyed out, with the word ‘ATTENDING’. The other was red, with the words ‘NOT ATTENDING’. I clicked the red ‘NOT ATTENDING’ box, prompting a drop-down note. It read-
DETAILS: Workers visa set to expire 12/7. Extension denied.
Cancelled on 10/27. Returning to Dublin, Ireland on 12/5.
“So, Jodie’s Irish,” I mused quietly to myself as if I were uncovering a critical clue. I glanced over my shoulder again toward the door. Still nothing. Out of sheer curiosity, I then decided to click the ‘ATTENDING’ box. The greyed out box suddenly turned green and a drop-down menu appeared. The once-red ‘NOT ATTENDING’ box was now greyed out. The drop-down beneath the green button read- ‘Resend digital security pass?’
I was getting past the point of no return. Not only did I have no idea what I was messing with, if Mason walked in on me messing with his computer, there’s no way he’d let me keep my job at the Faire. Hell- I’d probably be issued a restraining order! But I was in too deep. Curiosity willed me to continue. I clicked the ‘YES’ box next to the prompt, causing another drop-down menu to appear reading-
Confirm email: oconnell.j@msn.com
I hesitated, weighing my options. What the hell- I took a deep breath and went for it. I clicked the text window and erased Jodie’s email address and quickly replaced it with my own-
Confirm email: southrook@gmail.com
I pressed enter, prompting final drop-down that read, ‘DIGITAL SECURITY PASS DELIVERED’.