Level: Applicant

Truth and Faith were further apart than ever. The philosopher Tetsuo Smith, who had spent half of his life in each, wrote that while Truth smelled like a ‘freshly painted room,’ Faith smelled like ‘a well-greased drawer in an old wardrobe.’ If he had only come down from the pine meadows in the mountains, in which he lived, to the streets of Truth, he might have seen some recent changes.
Omah was thinking about Smith’s ideas when he called Bri in the morning.
“Anything more?” he asked.
“Hi. Yes. You’ll love this. The ‘Big House’ that we expected is actually a shed in some woods! I saw a picture.”
“What? You mean that Petr paid half a million credits for?”
“Yes!”
“Wow! That’s pretty strange. Where?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. The estate agents are only releasing information in dribs and drabs. Apparently Greentree’s influence does have a limit.”
“Okay.”
Bri heard a pause on the end of the line, so she asked:
“Omah? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Sure. I was wondering … if you wanted to meet tonight … .”
He winced at what might be thought of as a flirtatious invitation and expected her to say no.
“Alright, although I will have to work late. Say eight?”
“Okay. Great.”
“Where?”
“Erm … . Same place? The Old Carved Cup?”
“Alright. Not just drinking though. The nights are so warm. I want to get out in the fresh air.”
“Alright. We’ll just wander. Maybe the Island?”
“Sounds good. See you there. Gotta go … . Oh, what happened to your future wife? Melody, is it?”
Bri winced at her own sarcasm, but Omah didn’t notice.
“She stood me up!” he said, wincing at his own lie.
Omah ended the call before he could say anything more stupid.
‘Mel will kill me if she finds out,’ he thought.
By 8.30 pm, Bri still hadn’t arrived at The Old Carved Cup, so Omah drained his warm beer and prepared to leave. Just as he began to stand up, something warm covered up his eyes from behind.
“Surprise! Guess who?” said a familiar voice.
“Bri! I thought you weren’t coming!”
“Sorry, I got delayed. Greentree.”
“Say no more. Beer?”
“Just one. I already ate on the go. Did you?”
“Ah ha. I couldn’t wait this long without food.”
Omah bought Bri a long glass of beer and a short one for himself. They stayed in the bar just long enough for him to ask her one question.
“A shed eh! How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. Looks like somebody registered it as a valuable property. Now that does smell of corruption in high places!” Bri drained her glass and asked, “Shall we go?”
Omah and Bri wandered haphazardly toward the old island, buying two ice creams on the way and licking the cold drips off their fingers with relish.
“It’s a lovely night,” Bri ventured.
“Yes. Do you want to go up on the Walkway?”
“Oh yes. I haven’t had time yet.”
“Good. I wanted to go, but Mel is scared of heights.”
“Oh.”
They reached the base of the concrete tower, which spun up into the sky with a dizzying perspective and queued for the elevator. On the way up, Bri and Omah stared into each other’s eyes frequently and smiled.
‘I must tell him how gorgeous his eyes are,’ Bri told herself. ‘But how, without sounding silly? No, just keep this professional. Oh, but … . I don’t know … .’ She almost slapped her thighs in exasperation at her own confused feelings, but the arrival of the elevator stopped her.
Stepping out onto the long Walkway, Omah braced himself against the stiff breeze and read aloud from the information plaque.
“Welcome to the Walkway. You are now 1000 feet above the sea. In the distance, you can see the nearest part of Faith, Welcome City. On a clear day, if you look very closely, you can see the spire of the nearest church, between the white and grey skyscrapers, just north of the Faith and Truth Bridge.”
“Where?” Bri replied. “I can’t see it.”
Omah turned his dark, blue eyes to the distant City and peered between the two skyscrapers.
“There!” he declared, taking her shoulders and pointing his finger. “See it? A black triangle, near the ground.”
“Oh, but it’s so small! I was expecting something like one of those big ones that they have.”
“Not this close to Truth. They wouldn’t risk it.”
Bri shook her head, replying:
“Such a shame we can’t get along. They call it the Bridge to Faith, and we call it the Bridge to Truth.”
“Not any more. They declared a truce.”
Omah and Bri continued along the Walkway, content to move at the ambling pace of other visitors.
“Such a clear night,” Omah murmured. “See the Plough?”
“What’s that? I know nothing about stars.”
Omah pointed out the constellation, and Bri laughed with delight.
“So where are you starting your search?” Omah asked.
“Antarctica. Past the Hot Zone. May as well get the worst over, and it seems to me A-9 would go as far away as possible if it did commit this crime. We had to hire ex-military aircraft to fly through the zone.”
“Seems to me you should start closer to home. If I was A-9, I would prefer somewhere more familiar.”
“Ha! You are amazing! You can imagine being A-9?”
“Well, not really, but I’m a detective. I’m paid to think out of the box.”
“Or in the box, in this case. But A-9 has never been outside the Institute, has it?”
“No. But it might have got all the information it needed from Petr. I doubt he ever went south of the Hot Zone.”
“Hm. As far as the Arctic Circle?”
“You mean the Pole? There really is no Circle any more. Even the Pole floats on a buoy in a halcyon sea. I’ve been there.”
“Hm … . And where were you when the crime was committed?”
“In Garlandya. You?”

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