The End of Space Station Fifteen, 4/6
A Parallel Interrogation
This an AI generated image I got from Freepik - she looks a lot like Anja (and Katrina, for that matter…)
Anja hesitated at the door before tapping the panel. She was always anxious in the presence of Security. She was not alone in this, however. Security made everyone uneasy. She was certain they had listening devices in the confessionals. If God wanted to conduct omnipresent surveillance that was God’s business. But humans shouldn’t play God. That kind of hubris was certain to invoke the wrath of the universal law of rebound, what some people used to call karma. Anja often wondered what specific sins God was so angry with that made that deity inflict the End Times on humanity. If indeed it was God. She had her doubts. Most Archivists did.
The original survivors, for example, were in no way all members of some exclusive denomination. They were a total melange of humanity – rich and poor, believers and agnostics and even some atheists. At least they were atheists, until the skies ripped open and the demon horde spewed forth. The Other, as they were called then. There were even reported sightings of certain apocalyptic horsemen, although the Archivists had never been able to confirm these despite exhaustive analysis of the more than ten thousand hours of contemporary footage found by expeditionary sorties.
And so originally there were many theories about how and why The Event, as it was termed then, came to pass. But after foolish scientific experiments had been ruled out, and no evidence of the alien intervention hypothesis had been discovered (at least officially), Occam’s razor won the day, and so the Wrath of God it was.
And everyone converted. That’s to say, they converted to what was deemed to be the original and intended version of Christianity, to which only the Holy Catholic Church could lay claim, logically. Yet the fact that science had indisputably come to humanity’s aid and allowed at least some to survive could not be denied. The ability of lightning and electricity as a defence was discovered on Event Day itself. And it was science, after all, that built the space stations, most of which had originally been designed as hotels. The irony in this, however, had been long since lost.
Which may be a good thing, of course. For us, the idea that Capitalism, of all things, would prove to be humanity’s saviour doesn’t bear thinking about. There is no money to be loved on these space stations now, after all. Fortunately. God assuredly would not approve. The sacerdotal hierarchy certainly didn’t.
But then it seemed there was very little of which they did approve.
And it had not gone unnoticed that their strict authoritarianism had not stopped the Other from manifesting. Piety had never sent the demons away.
So Anja continued to have her doubts, only the least profane of which she deemed suitable for the confessional. And she avoided Security whenever she could.
But there was no avoiding this confrontation. She had been summoned. Taking a deep breath to calm herself she tapped open the sliding door and walked in.
The Security offices are located on floor 33, about two-thirds of the way up from the central core. The gravity was slightly lower here of course, but that lightness didn’t help anyone’s moods. There were four of them sitting on the opposite side of the oval table, the reflections in its black glass surface only adding to the discomfort. One of them was the head of Security himself, Cato, who had always delighted in the irony of his name. His two subordinates sitting to his right never said a word throughout the proceedings. Clearly only there for the purposes of intimidation. And she was surprised and further unnerved to see Father Shilo there too. With his black robes and patriarchal beard he looked every inch the inquisitor. His being there wasn’t normal procedure. They bade her sit down.
If you haven’t done anything wrong, you have nothing to fear. But those words hardly ever worked when Security was involved.
“How are you today, Anja?” Cato’s stern, classical face made him look accusatory even when feigning pleasantries. They always try and put you at your ease when they interrogate you.
But Anja managed to smile back girlishly. It’s what Katrina would’ve done. “Very well, thank you for asking, Master Cato.”
“Excellent. We are glad to hear that. Unfortunately, our investigation thus far has yielded no clarification regarding your missing files.”
“That’s disappointing. I’m sure they carry vital information.”
“You are referring to the heretic girl’s second alleged miracle, of course?”
Anja nodded. “Yes. If God’s Grace decided to act through her, God must’ve intended that as a message. Miracles of that nature are usually God trying to tell us something.”
Father Shilo’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by ‘of that nature’, Mistress Anja?”
“Miracles attributed to those not considered to be orthodox or devout. Heretics and disbelievers especially. Ms. Meyer fits that description perfectly. It’s telling, after all, that she was never excommunicated.”
“Because,” Father Shilo ventured, “you believe they thought that would risk God’s displeasure?”
“Something like that, yes Father.”
“An intriguing hypothesis,” Cato stated, without endeavouring to conceal his lack of interest. He glanced at Father Shilo. “But one perhaps best left to our theologians. It’s hardly a Security matter.”
“Unless the heretic subversives have these files, Master Cato.”
“Oh?”
“If those files reveal a second miracle – a confirmed second miracle, then this would effectively sanctify the heretic Ms. Meyer. Saint Katrina, in other words, would be their inspiration.”
“Because it would be proof,” Anja suggested. “Undeniable proof.”
“That, I admit,” Cato said, “would certainly be a threat to the supremacy of the priesthood.”
“And therefore a Security matter,” Father Shilo concluded.
Cato decided to do away with feigned indifference, and morphed into interrogation mode.
“And what is your belief, Mistress Anja?”
It had become something of an eschatological myth on SS15 that it was impossible to conceal a lie from Security Master Cato. Anja, however, was not unintelligent, and had intuitively picked up a few things from her Katrina studies thus far. And so she decided to be economical with the truth.
“As an Archivist, I have to keep an open mind. And without those missing files, I cannot attach myself to any firm conclusion.”
But that answer wasn’t going to work with a man like Cato. He wasn’t going to let it go that easily. She half knew that, admittedly.
“I did not ask you what you have concluded, Mistress Anja, but what you believe.”
Anja tried not to swallow, but her response came out throaty anyway. She was sure she sounded suspicious. “I really don’t know, honestly. But I agree with Father Shilo’s suggestion. And I do believe in Katrina’s first miracle. That I will admit.”
“I see.”
At this point, Cato decided to drum his fingers on the table whilst giving the appearance of thinking, deciding what to say next. If designed to unnerve, it worked. No one likes to be judged.
She did not, however, expect his next utterance. He leaned forwards a little, looking down at her, and speculated.
“If the missing files contain the so-called evidence of which you speak, and they are in the possession of our subversive friends, then this surely points the finger of suspicion at an Archivist, wouldn’t you agree, Mistress Anja?”
She gulped. “I suppose so. But we don’t have exclusive access.”
“But it’s the most probable explanation, is it not? At least one of your colleagues, possibly more than one, even, is therefore a member of this heretical organisation. Perhaps you yourself, Mistress Anja?”
“It’s not me. I swear. I want to see those files, don’t I? And if I was a subversive, I’d want to make them public.”
If she thought trying to be insistent would make her look innocent then she was, as it happens, on this occasion correct. It surprised her.
“Very well,” Cato said, somewhat nonchalantly.
It seemed to Anja that his nonchalance was nothing but a ruse and he was trying to trick her somehow. Suspicion and lack of trust being a kind of default position when it comes to Security. But he really did seem to accept her answer. Although she was confused, she allowed her relief to win through.
It didn’t last long though. “There is, of course,” Father Shilo stated, “the matter of your great-grandmother. The original heretic. She was, after all, the one who started this subversive movement.”
But if this had been intended to scare her, it did not work. Instead it made her a little angry, insulted.
“I do not believe the sins of the ancestors should be visited on their descendants. Or would you disagree?”
“Be that as it may, you are doubtless aware of the fact that she was a Pelagian, with some disagreeable opinions on the source of The Event.”
“I am aware of that.”
“And the fact that my suggestion makes you angry leads me to believe you have some sympathy with her beliefs.”
“Leaving aside the fact that many of those beliefs are still classified information, if I am angry it is for the affront against my family. You would also agree, I hope, that love of one’s family, and one’s ancestors, is a good attribute?”
She was even more surprised when it was Cato who came to her aid. “Come now, Father Shilo, Mistress Anja has been thoroughly assessed with regards to her infamous ancestor. I for one am quite satisfied that she does not share those opinions.”
“Thank you, Master Cato,” Anja said honestly. “Also, I was led to believe I was delegated the task of this particular analysis precisely because I was considered robust enough to handle it.”
“Temptation can affect us all, however, can it not?” Father Shilo replied.
“Not in this instance, I can assure you.”
Father Shilo was about to respond when Cato cut him off again, raising an authoritative hand as if to silence the matter.
“Rest assured we will continue our investigation into your missing files. And we will,” he smiled like a cat that was up to something, “of course keep you informed.”
“Thank you, Master Cato. May I go now?”
Cato hesitated before responding, all for effect, naturally.
“I have no further questions for you at the present time.”
It wasn’t exactly a ‘yes you may go’ but Anja decided to seize the opportunity to assume that’s what he meant. She started to rise from her chair.
“Unless Father Shilo has anything to add?” Cato glanced across, as if giving the clergyman a cue.
“What can you tell us about your relationship with Archivist Mitrokhin?”
Anja had no choice but to sit back down again. “He’s my friend and colleague.” Short answer, not untrue.
“Are you sure about this, Mistress Anja? You are both the same age and you are both unmarried. This may not be illegal, but it is unusual, you would agree. There is nothing more to the nature of your relationship?”
Anja continued to tell the truth. She had never, after all, confessed to finding him attractive (which was not to say she didn’t, of course). “I can assure you, Father Shilo, there is nothing untoward about my relationship with Vassily. He’s just my friend.”
Then Cato interjected. “As his ‘friend’, which you admit, have you noticed anything, shall we say, noteworthy, in your friend’s behaviour recently?”
“Well, I suppose he’s perhaps a little more nervous than usual. But then again we all are. Everyone’s noticed the increase in the frequency of demonic attacks over the last few years.”
“The shielding is holding.”
“It didn’t hold for those other four stations.”
“We believe that was due to the subversives, not the demons.”
“But with the loss of the other stations it would be surprising if Vassily wasn’t anxious. Like I said, we all are.”
“But I am not talking of a few years here, Mistress Lei, I am asking you about recent days.”
Anja wondered why he suddenly reverted to her last name.
“I haven’t noticed anything. Noteworthy, that is.”
“Very well. You may go. But you will be sure to inform us should you do observe anything that might be of interest to us, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
Anja wasted no time in taking the opportunity to get out of the room as quickly as she could.
Once outside, the door closed, she paused to take a huge, deep breath. And then another. But it did nothing to quell the rising wave of nausea inside. It’s what they don’t ask that is more worrying than what they do. What they surely know and suspect. Conspicuous by omission.
They didn’t ask her about the alien intervention hypothesis.
Her ancestor’s hypothesis…