On a Clear Day Read Online Free PDF Page B

what we’re up to,” the black guy said. “It seems to me that we’re flying blind.”
    “We don’t have to fly completely blind if we make agent-based computer models,” I said. “We’ll know what we have, organize our database, and try to figure out what C-8 is looking for. Then we can use the information to model all the groups in the States and start formulating a plan.”
    “That doesn’t make any sense.” I looked over to where the Asian girl was talking with her head to one side. “If we
knew
what C-8 was looking for, we wouldn’t need to go to London.”
    “We know that they’re expanding in an economic world they’ve created. If anybody grows, it’s because someone else somewhere is losing. So since we know their past history, and we have an idea about how the other groups around the world react to them, we can create a model,” I said. “As we learn more, we’ll make the models better.”
    “And that’s suddenly going to predict what their intentions are?” she asked. “I don’t think so. They avoid obvious patterns.”
    “Then I can factor that in,” I said. “Thanks for reminding me.”
    Her coal-dark eyes never seemed to blink. Her face, smooth and white and circled by a carefully styled bob, made her look more like a decoration than a person. She stared at me, and I forced myself to stare back. I saw her fingers were on the black guy’s forearm.
    “Get some rest today,” said Michael. “There’s information on the computers in your rooms you might or might not want to use. There are also profiles of the members of the group, but don’t make too much of them. We’re going to have to learn about each other as we go along. But one thing I hope is that we can get to trusting one another as soon as possible. I trust all of you. I hope all of you can trust me.”
    I felt tense as I picked up the yellow pad in front of me. I thought the Asian girl was challenging me. I didn’t like it.
    In the room. There was a basket of fruit and two bottles of water on my table. Good, but where was the money coming from? I was still upset with the girl for saying my computer models didn’t make any sense. I remembered Michael saying that there were profiles on the computer. I turned it on. I navigated through some game apps, then found the profiles. They were listed as “one time only” apps that would be erased once I went through them. “People grow as they question what they are doing and who they are,” Michael had said at the meetingafter mentioning the profiles. “We examine our lives and prosper.”
    There was a microwave and a small cabinet over the sink in the room, and I looked through both. The fridge had a pint of milk and some cheese. The cabinet had some crackers. I laid out some of the fruit and the crackers and the cheese on a plate and took it to the bed. Then I clicked on the profiles.
    The first profile was Michael’s. Naturally.
    Dark screen, then a guitar wailing as if it were a crazy chick screaming. It played louder and louder, a deep bluesy sound; it softened and another voice came up. Then the image of a dude in a leather jacket facing away from the camera. I knew who it was right away.
    I’m sailing to the edge of the Uni-verse
    I’m scratching for love out there
    I’m grabbing the souls of all my children
    And anyone who cares
    Oh, oh, oh-oh yeah!
    It was Michael, and he sounded gravelly and funky. His face was white as anything, and his streaked hair and lined eyes made him look like something invented, but his voice was cool-strange, as if it was coming from another place altogether.
    Then his image was covered up by a shot of a storm at sea. There were fragments of wood floating—perhaps a boat had capsized. The guitar kept getting wilder, and itsounded as if there was somebody crying in the storm. A headline flashed:
    Plato’s Cave Sold Out!
    I knew the group, but I had never seen them live and hadn’t really gotten into Michael. It was the band that had