“You lied to them,” Blair said. He shifted forward, closer to Sasha. Her revelation awoke something in him, and he felt the intense charge that had drawn him into this life. It was as if he were eating again after months of an illness. “You took advantage of those men. Your life is a lie. You founded this entire place on a lie.”
“I prefer the word story,” said Sasha. She shrugged. “I told them a story. It’s not my fault they believed it.”
“Whose fault is it, then? Is it Dyson’s fault that you’re trapping men here against their will? It’s definitely not the men’s.”
“Everyone here is free to leave,” she said.
“You kept me hostage here. You had your men chase me around knowing I suffered from asthma. I could’ve died.”
“Those are wild speculations.”
“Don’t think I won’t tell everyone what you told me today. Don’t think I won’t take this to the Times, to the Guardian, the Washington Post. They won’t treat them like speculations.”
“There’s nothing I’d love more than for you to expose us,” she said. “Do you know how boring it is being me? The same day every day for the rest of my life? But I made a promise to Dyson to do everything in my power to keep this place running. Let’s say, however, I were tricked by a young, relentless reporter, a reporter who worked tirelessly to uncover the truth about The Atmosphere, who against all odds extracted the story from me, despite my protests, then I did everything that I could. I merely made a mistake. Undone by a superior mind. Why do you think I sent you the letter?”
Blair shook his head. “No, no, no,” he said. “You didn’t send me the letter.”
“Who else would have sent it?”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I already told you, Blair. I like you. And because I like you I’ve given you the story of your life: your greatest conspiracy yet. The faster you bring what you know to the—where was it? The Times and the Guardian. Did I miss anyone?”
“The Washington Post,” Blair muttered.
“That’s the one. The faster you expose me the faster I’m free. Hell, do post it on your website. Do whatever is best for you, Blair. You deserve the traffic. You’ve earned it.”
Her encouragement maddened him. “And the second I step out of this office, your goons tie me up and force me into The Atmosphere. Make me empty out, kneel in front of the scarecrow. I’m so far ahead of you.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No, that’s not what I want. I want to tell everyone what you told me.”
“And that’s why I brought you here. To tell everyone. To outsmart me. To finally bring The Atmosphere down.” His backpack was at her feet. She nudged it over to him. “This conspiracizing. Your mettle and spunk. It’s wearing me down. I’ve told you everything you wanted to hear. I couldn’t possibly give you juicier details. I’ve told you things about myself that I’ve never told anyone—not even Dyson. You no longer have reason to be here.”
“I’ll write about what I saw here. I’ll tell everyone everything.”
She bit at one of her nails. “I’m very sorry that your experience here was so taxing,” she said. “I assure you, this is not who we are. I’d like to pay for your flight back home to Oregon. The Atmosphere will reimburse you for your flight here and the cost of your stay, which clearly did not meet your expectations—or ours. This is not who we are.”
“You’re trying to bribe me,” he said, hoping to bait her into keeping him here, proving herself the person he knew she was.
“Please accept a complimentary Atmospherian shed kit as compensation for your trouble. It will be mailed to your current residence.”
“I live in an apartment.”
“Everyone here at The Atmosphere is truly sorry for the inconvenience. Blah, blah, blah. We accept full responsibility.” She flicked her wrist dismissively. The door opened. “Get out.”
Randy stood at the entrance with his hands in his pockets.
Blair hitched on his backpack. He said, “Don’t think I won’t write about this. Don’t think I won’t publish a full transcript of what you told me.”
“It truly was a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I wish you the best going forward.” She tapped her phone. The waves on the video screens returned to the security footage. She reclined on the couch.
Blair spoke directly to Randy: “Sasha told me everything. I know you’re lying to the men—to everyone. Don’t think I won’t tell the world.”
Silently, Randy led him into the hall. The door slipped shut behind them. Blair continued talking, giving a clipped summary of what Sasha told him. Randy nodded impatiently as if Blair were rambling in a foreign language. A deep sense of meaninglessness settled into him. No one would ever believe him. Worse: no one would care.
They walked through the main floor of the mall in silence. Men jogged past. Men spritzed cologne. Men answered phones in the Call Center, troubleshooting technical glitches in the DAM software—a partnership he now understood. Men tossed footballs on the Fitness Field. Men scrolled through The Atmospherian Doctrine. Men hugged. Men praised one another. Men praised themselves in The Crucible. Men’s names scrolled through the directory boards. Men waved hello to Blair and good-bye to Blair. Men smiled. Men offered him bottled water and a small bag of trail mix for the road. Men opened the doors at the exit.
They wished him good luck.
Outside was the morning. The sunrise was like a broken egg yolk in the sky. The air had thickened and become almost buttery. It stuck to his tongue. He gasped into his inhaler.
Randy gave Blair a boarding pass and a check for five thousand dollars—far more than Blair had paid to come here. “We hope it will prove how truly sorry we are for your inconvenience. This is not who
