Julie read the post, then read it again, then a third time. Other posts piled onto that one, musing on the possibilities. Maybe this was a turning point. If the Pilot no longer implied a better worker to employers, maybe it would no longer be a source of job discrimination.
Was it really possible? She looked on BNL’s Pilot FAQ, the one for people considering getting their first Pilot, but she didn’t see it mentioned. Q: Can the Pilot be turned off? A: Yes, if you need to, you can have it turned off, though the number of people who have done this is less than one in ten thousand. There was no mention of keeping the light on.
Julie had wanted her Pilot, but it hadn’t hurt that it demonstrated she was committed to improving herself in the name of improving her work.
GNM wrote: I wonder if that would lead to employers doing working interviews that tested function instead of assuming based on the blue light. They still have to maintain the illusion they’re not discriminating.
She hoped she wasn’t explaining something Sophie had already thought of. If she’d said it as herself, Sophie would roll her eyes, say, Isn’t that what I said?
Sophie wrote, Good point, GNM! Yeah . . . maybe we sit on this until we see whether it’s useful info.
The door opened.
“Hey, Davey,” she called.
Val glanced at her, surprised, and she realized she shouldn’t have known which kid was at the door from her position faced away from it. She knew because she was conversing online with Sophie, and Sophie didn’t tend to use her devices in transit, so she was either at home (which she wasn’t) or at her meeting space. Julie shrugged as if that was an explanation.
“Hey, David,” Val said, but he still didn’t respond. Then, as he headed upstairs, louder, she deepened her voice to mimic his. “Good night, Moms?”
“Oh, hi,” he said. “Good night.”
Val raised an eyebrow at Julie. This would be the time to tell her about the weirdness at the park, but she didn’t mention it. If Val thought their kids were adults allowed to come and go as they pleased, then she shouldn’t care if they didn’t say a proper good-night, either. She’d tell her once Val acknowledged she was right. They were adults, but there were rules of engagement. There was courtesy. Family had different rules.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
SOPHIE
It had been three weeks since she and Gabe sent a copy of David’s stolen e-mail to Eduardo Toledo, and Sophie assumed he’d passed on the story. She hadn’t sent it to anyone else because she didn’t know what else to do with it. If the journalist who had been most interested in working on their issues didn’t bite, who would? National would know, but she still didn’t want to involve them.
Another three weeks later, when he texted Sorry for the delay— I had to research the claim—do you still want to talk? she was taken completely by surprise. Finally. Hopefully. Maybe.
She met him at Stomping Grounds. The fact that he knew it was a point in his favor, as was the fact he didn’t have a Pilot. When she arrived, he was already there waiting for her, his own travel mug indicating he knew the drill. Normally she’d suggest walking out to prevent eavesdropping; when he didn’t suggest it, she didn’t, either, for fear it might sound paranoid. She was paranoid, and for good reason, but this probably wasn’t the person to let see that side of her.
“So,” Toledo said without preamble. “This is legit. Nobody else knows about it?”
“I haven’t told anyone else.”
“And your source hasn’t given it to anyone else?”
The “your source” part felt like a spy movie to Sophie. She didn’t know for sure, but it seemed unlikely. “No.”
“Can you tell me your source’s name?”
She shook her head.
The journalist sighed. “I understand. I was able to verify that the study referenced exists, and that both the sender and the receiver of this e-mail work at BNL, so the source isn’t as important, but it would still be great to talk to them. Would they be willing to talk to me as an anonymous source?”
“I don’t think so. They didn’t give it to me directly—just slipped it under the door.” That was all true, even if it suggested the door in question was the meeting space, not her bedroom.
“Okay. Is there anyone else who could speak to the human interest side of this? Someone in your group, maybe?”
She thought of Tommie, the woman who’d been paid to have her Pilot removed, though she’d probably signed something saying she couldn’t disclose. “I’ll ask.”
“Thanks. Now, I’ll be calling your national office for a quote—”
“Don’t!” said Sophie, then, less vehemently, “Please.”
He looked surprised. “Why?”
“They’ll make it into some national thing.”
“It is a national thing. The letter came from here because BNL headquarters is here, but the study has national implications.”
“I know, but is there any way you can hold off on that?” It was hard to explain that she didn’t want to lose control. She was being silly. This was a big deal; it wasn’t about her. “Until nearly the end. Do the rest, then call them?”
“I can’t make any promises. If I need something they’ll know, I’ll need to ask them, but the story is mostly about BNL, so I don’t think anything they say will change the meat of it. I’ll try to wait as long as I can. I get wanting a story to be yours as long as you can hold on to it.”
He understood.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
JULIE
The wrongness in David had grown, magnified; Julie felt a strange electric charge whenever she saw him. He had lost weight, and there were dark circles under his
