Chapter Nine

Fame

 

Zaid joined the crowd in an ever-growing vocal outcry over the University’s actions.  No new issues of The Radical had been put out—the Communications Department saw the damage done to the room, and immediately sealed it off.  She dropped by the Computer Science Department, to thank the phreakers, but was surprised to find them paranoid about the recent developments.

Phil spent the rest of February feeling a nervous breakdown.  It was like the time that he thought he made a mistake on his Student Aid Application, and got awarded a much bigger sum than he expected.  He spent nearly a month sweating, waiting for agents to bust down the door and haul him off for fraud.

Helen spend the rest of the month plotting her next move.  Phil had become useless, shaking a lot.  In the meantime, she gauged public student opinion on the growing turmoil and furor directed at the administration.  She realized that a new level of disruption was occurring, when instructors told students to not only turn off their cell phones, but to cease discussion of the great university rip-off.

Culhwch worked, built models, drafted on AutoCAD, slept, and occasionally ate and showered.  The highlight of his day was going to work, from 8:00 am through Noon, working on drawings of real future buildings.  He hadn’t spoken to Ridge since the interview, and slowly the noise of the workplace fell away from his ears.  He felt a merger between him and the computer, a symbiotic relationship whose only goal was to realize the possibility of the building.

Nell grew bored of The Radical. She let Helen do the thinking, as Nell focused on new things in mind.  She realized that her degree in Graphic Arts was no longer needed for her goals.  She decided to just sit back and watch the administration crumble during and after the Spring Break, and monitored Zaid’s weirdly successful attempts to teach Culhwch social skills.  Apparently, like a lot of classes at the University of San Antonio, Culhwch’s social skills training class had failed to do its job.

On the last week of February, Helen called Nell.  “Are you thinking about doing another issue?”

“No.  I don’t see the point in it.”

“Why not?  We’re on a role.”

“Precisely.  There are logistical problems now.  You heard about the room being closed off, right?”

“Right, well, I have a plan to get around that.”

“OK, then.  You should carry it out, then, but I’m not gonna do anymore work on The Radical.”

Helen started to worry.  “Well, why not?”

“I just don’t think there is anymore to be done.  The chips’re gonna fall where they may.”

“But what about a month ago, when you wanted revenge?”

“I got my revenge.  I’m happy to see the university freak out.”

“But, you don’t want, or care if anybody gets fired?”

Nell shrugged her shoulders.  “It will probably come to that anyway.  Especially the rape charge.  In any case, my work’s done.  But, that shouldn’t stop you if you think that it’s necessary.”

“I’m afraid that I gotta disagree.  I won’t stop.”

“Then don’t.”

The conversation seemed to have ended, and Helen thought it would be a good move to end the call.  But then, Nell asked, “How’s Phil taking it?”

“Taking what?  The effects?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s completely nuts.  He doesn’t know how to handle pressure, imaginary or not.”

“He took it hardest from day one.  I wish that Zaid and Cullen were more involved from the beginning.  That may have helped him.”

“Maybe, but Zaid and Phil don’t talk much.  They never have.  Cullen and Phil are good friends—I don’t know why—but, I can’t tell you what Cullen would have said to Phil to make him feel better.”

Now, it was Nell who wanted to end the conversation.  “Maybe so.  None of it, though, would have changed the fact that we chose an alternate route for expressing our views.  Phil doesn’t do alternate anything.  I regret exploiting him, in that regard.”

“I wouldn’t think of it as exploiting.  He could have refused.”

“He didn’t, so…what can I say?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, good luck with the paper.”

“Thanks.  See y’around.”

“You, too.  Bye.”

“Bye.”

Nell hung up the phone, and stared at the TV.  Just news, so she turned it off.  She drew a blank on what to do next.  She got up and walked to the dining room table, and re-read a note that she got.

 

Dear Ms Stanley,

 

Please report to the Administration Department Head Room 32G, Sec 13, at 8:00 am Tuesday 1 March.  I would like to see you regarding an unrecognized student publication.

 

That Tuesday, she arrived at the section at 7:45.  No one was in, yet.  She thought that the lack of people, in a major bureaucratic section in the University, was strange.

She sat down in one of the chairs outside the section doors, which were locked.  She pulled out a book, and started reading.  Her watched beeped at 8:00, and so she tried to get in again.  Still locked.  Her suspicious kicked into overdrive.  She stepped back a few steps, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed the University phone system.  She punched in all the right buttons to access the secretary of the Administration Section.  When the secretary picked up, Nell asked, “Hi, is your office open?”

“Yes it is.”

“So, why are your doors locked?”

The next sound she heard was scrambling both on her phone and in the room directly facing her.  A shadow appeared through the frosted Plexiglas windows, and pushed the door handle down.  The door opened, and Nell saw the secretary.  Nell approached the doorway, and the secretary said as she approached, “The door wasn’t locked.”

Nell entered the section, and turned to the secretary.  “Really.  I mustn’t have pushed on the door handle hard enough.”

“Probably not.  You’re late, too.”

“My, be sure to relay my appreciation for the Administration Department Head’s concern for promptness.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t catch that.”  The secretary held her finger to her ear, and made like she truly didn’t understand.  Her wide eyes signaled to Nell that she was lying.

Nell smiled.  “Thank you for opening the door.”  She continued walking to Room 32G, and along the way, turned off her cell phone.

This part of the building had a many alcove hallways, which led to multiple rooms.  Thirty-two G meant essentially the thirty-second wing hallway, Room G.  Nell briefly wondered if the State Capitol Building in Austin had this many rooms. 

She later wondered why no one else was here.  The time approached a quarter-after eight, and nobody was in their offices.  Nell began to become acutely aware of her surroundings.  Most particularly, the lack of noise.  She walked as quietly as possible to the thirty-second wing and stopped briefly in that hallway.  She controlled her breathing, and slowly resumed walking again.  She cautiously approached Room G, and knocked.  A man inside yelled, “Come in!”

She opened the door and saw the interior of a windowless office.  The walls were that fake wood paneling seen in dens and bars of houses during the 1980s.  She kept her eye contact with the Head, so she couldn’t visually confirm if the carpeting was from that era, too.  The fluorescent lighting added a sickening blue-green tint to the room.  Nell felt like this part of the old United Services Automobile Association Building was probably a computer center.

She said, “Hello.  I’m Nell Stanley.  You wished to see me?”

The sixtyish man at the front smiled and nodded.  “That’s correct.  Please, have a seat.”

He wore a Hawaiian shirt, and Nell didn’t think of what else he was wearing.  The bad lighting made his white hair look like it had a green wash to it, and she felt nausea for the first time in years.  She knew that this man perceived her discomfort.

She sat down in one of the chairs, and realized that they were a bit lower than typical chairs.  The man also looked like he was sitting higher.  She said nothing after sitting down, and the man just kept on smiling.  His frozen smile added to the air a surrealist feeling that she felt was inappropriate.

“Tell me, Nell Stanley, have you been active lately?”

“In what?”

“Journalistic endeavors.”

“Not since mid-February.”

“That’s soon enough for our purposes, yes?”

“I suppose.”

“Good.”  His voice sounded airy.  This whole room seemed to suffer from an excess of oxygen.  Nell felt light-headed.  He pulled up from the desk a copy of The Radical.  “Did you play a part in making this piece of literature?”

“Yes.”

“Mind if I ask why?”

“I wanted revenge.”

“Sounds like a silly notion.”

“Maybe it is.”

He put the paper down.  “If maybe, then why did you do it?”

“My friends got screwed.”

“Are these…people,” he gestured to the paper, “your friends?”

“Some.”

He leaned over to her.  “Who?”

She smiled.  “If this is an interrogation, I need my lawyer.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.”

“Your words aren’t.  Your body, your clothes, this room, the curious lack of people in this section…all of it suggests a set-up.”

“I wanted to make sure that we were…free of distractions.”

“Really.”

He sat back, and his voice edged back to a normal sound.  “Yes, I wanted to know if you knew about the gravity of your claims.”

“I do.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“That’s your decision.  You called me in here.”

“I think you’re right.  You’re a very reasonable woman, Nell Stanley.”

Nell held her thanks, and began to think hard about her next move.  He looked offended at her silence.  She smiled again, and said, “Why, that’s nice of you.  Will that be all for now?

He held up his hand, and developed a very serious look on his face.  That was the signal for Nell to run as fast as she could.  “Sir, I must leave, now.”

She got up and as did he.  “Ms Stanley, it would be in your interest to not leave this room.”

She stopped.  “Why are you threatening me?”

“You’ve been straight-forward with me, and I will reply in like fashion.”

“That would be nice, because so far you’ve wasted my time.”

“I’m sorry for being gentle.”

“I’m sorry for your wife.”

His mouth dropped, as she opened the door and left the room.  She half expected him to come running out, or for gun-slingers to appear from the wings as she strode to the exit.  Instead, she heard him say from behind.  “I hope that you don’t plan on graduating.”

She stopped and looked back at him.  “I’ve decided that my degree is worthless, but if you want to add fraud to your list of sins, go right ahead.”

“I’m surprised that you didn’t ask me how I knew to contact you.”

“Then you’re dumber than I thought.”

He stepped back into his hallway, and she got out of the Administration Section.

When she was in the company of fellow students, she pulled out her cell phone.  She noticed that she had several missed calls.  The first two were from a number dialed within the Administration Section.  She called it, and heard the secretary pick up.  Nell said,  Hello, my name is Nell-”

The secretary hung up immediately.  Nell realized that this may have been a ploy to get her cell phone to ring during the meeting, and make Nell appear rude or ill-prepared.

She ran down the list of numbers that had also called, and she recognized most of them.  There were a few unfamiliar ones, so cancelled that screen and waited a second to see if anyone had left a message.  The phone beeped and said that six messages waited for her.  She pushed the button that called the voice mail service, and followed the instructions.

“You have six new messages.  To listen to your messages, press one.”

Beep.

“First message, sent today, at eight-oh-two am.”  Helen’s voice came on.  “Nell, it’s Helen.  Wanted to know why some people are talking about you.  What did you do?  Call me back.

“Second message, sent today, at eight-oh-three am.”  She then heard a man’s voice.  “Hello, my name is Dale Gomez, I’m with WPSO-TV Human Interest.  I heard that you’re the one that has taken on the University of San Antonio.  Would like to speak to you more about it.  Call me back at 2101-2337-5555.

“Third message, sent today, at eight-oh-five am.”  Zaid: “Hi Nell, it’s Zaid.  What’s going on?  Did you kill someone?  The school is all about you, today.  Lemme know what’s up, OK?  Bye.

“Fourth message, sent today, at eight-oh-ten am.”  Some guy: “Hey, Nell.  I really like what you’re doing to the University and everything.  Hope to see more of it and you.  Later.

“Fifth message, sent today, at eight-oh-sixteen am.”  Phil: “Nell, what are you doing!?  You’re gonna get us all expelled only ten weeks from graduation!  Oh—crap, can’t talk now.  Bye.”

“Sixth message, sent today, at eight-oh-eighteen am.”  A woman: “Hello, this is a message for Nell Stanley.  My name is Carren Voss, and I’m with The San Antonio Chronicle.  I’m interested in learning more about the scandal at the University of San Antonio.  My number is 2101-2338-1155.”

The weight of responsibility, but especially the knowledge that others knew more about something very important than Nell did, felt heavy.  She didn’t know which message called for the most immediate response.  She had little respect for WPSO-TV and The Chronicle.  The room that she was in started getting full, so she exited to the parking garage, and walked back to her car. 

Once inside, she called Helen.  “Hi, it’s Nell.”

“Hi, didja get my message?”

“Yeah, but no, I don’t know why people’re talking about me.”

“Well, we didn’t have our names on the paper.  I thought we were totally anonymous.”

“The University could’ve dusted for fingerprints, but they sealed the room off.  If they tried hard enough, they could find out.  They do know that I did it, though.”

“How?  Is that why you quit?”

“I didn’t quit when they found out.  I did that before.  Anyways, I admitted to one of my teachers that I participated.”

Helen began screaming.  “What!?  Why’d you that?  What did you tell him?”

“I only told him that I was part of it, and that I wanted revenge.”

“You didn’t tell him, or anyone else, about me, Phil, or Zaid or Cullen, did you?”

“No.  I left that up t’all of you, to tell or not.”

“Who’d you tell it to?”

“He’s a special guest lecturer.  I think his name is Drew Abvain, but he usually goes by Drew.”

“Drew Abvain.”  Nell got the impression that Helen had bad things in mind for Drew.

“Is there anything else?”

“Yeah, well, expect lotsa phone calls until this dies down.”

“Already with you there.  You were number one on my list of people to call.”

“Thanks.  Has anybody else tried to call you since you called me?”

Nell looked briefly at her phone’s screen.  “I don’t think so.  I think that I may have set my phone to send callers to my voice box if I’m talking to someone else already.”

“Yeah?  Well, good luck.”

“Thanks, bye-bye.”

“Bye.”

Nell dialed WPSO-TV next.  She got put on hold a couple of times, before reaching the voice mail of Dale Gomez.  She left a message, confirming that she had heard from him, and gave him a good time to call her.  She called Zaid, next.  Another voice mail, to which Nell gave a very brief account of what was going on.  She looked down her list of missed calls, to see who the guy was that called her.  She saw Zaid’s number, and Phil’s, but not the number of the man that called in between them.  Then, she called Phil.  “Phil?  It’s me, Nell.”

“Nell!  What’re you doing?  Didja get my message?”

“Yeah, I did.  Hey, listen, it’s not as bad as you think it is.  I don’t think that I’m in trouble, and nobody else knows that you or Helen or the rest of the group did this, OK?”

“You’re not sure?”

“No!  How can I be sure, when the only way to know if they know is only if you get in trouble yourself?”

Er…I guess…”

Nell realized that she had been sitting in the same position for a while, and shifted in her seat.  “Look, don’t worry.  There’s nothing that you can do about it now.”

“Yeah?  Well, Helen is pushing to continue this.”

“That’s Helen.  Don’t get involved if you don’t want to participate.”

“There’s a problem with that, seeing as she is my girlfriend.”

“So what?  That makes you her slave?”

Phil sighed.  “No…it just means that I’m gonna have to deal with her as long as she has this crazy idea in her head.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well, you suggested it!”

“What difference does it make if I didn’t convince her to back off?  She’s not gonna listen to me.”

“Yeah, I guess…you’re right…”

“Listen, Phil, take some advice.  Focus on your own schoolwork until this thing ends.  I’m planning something for Spring Break.”

The sound of Phil’s voice picked up.  “Really?  What?”

“I don’t know yet, but just focus on that, OK?”

“OK.”

“Bye, Phil.”

“Bye.”

After ending the call, Nell’s feeling of unease began to grow.  She didn’t feel safe in her car anymore.  She started the car, and left the garage.  Driving down the Interstate 10 access road, she decided to find a parking lot of a busy restaurant.  She drove down until she got to the Huebner Expressway, and took the turnaround to head west on 10.  During all of this, she kept checking her rearview mirror for any cars that may be following her.  She turned into the shopping area that sat at the corner of Huebner and 10, and pulled into one of the parking lots there.  She got out and started walking to a burger place, keeping aware of the cars in the area.

The burger place wouldn’t open until 10:30, and that was about two hours away.  There was a Jim’s on the other side of the freeway, but she didn’t want to get into her car just yet.  She started walking to one of the office towers, looking out for the cars that passed through the parking lot side streets.  She entered the lobby of one of the buildings.  It was noisier than the car, but she could still make phone calls.

She dialed The San Antonio Chronicle, and asked to speak to Carren Voss.  Voss picked up.  “Voss.”

“Hi, my name is Nell Stanley.  You had called me earlier and left a message.”

“Hi Nell, how are you?  Yes, I am interested in learning about the scandal that has erupted at USA.”

“I’d be happy to answer your questions, but first I want to know how you got my number.”

“Your number was in the press release.”

Nell began to feel paranoid.  “Press release?  We—I—didn’t issue one.”

“Well, someone claiming to represent you faxed over information about The Radical, and it had contact information on it.”

“Faxed…what kind of contact information?”

“The chief of operations, lead reporters, stuff like that.  You didn’t authorize it?”

“No!  That kind of information was not supposed to be made public!  Have you actually read The Radical?”

Voss fell to silence on the line, before saying, “No.”

“Then I suggest you actually read it before we talk.  I’m not gonna repeat what’s already been published.  Good-bye.”

Nell ended the conversation without waiting for a response from Voss.  In the lobby, she looked for a place to sit down.  She wanted to be inside.  On the other side of the building, she saw a lounge with some chairs.  Once she sat down, she began to think about what to do next.

She needed to return to school by tomorrow.  She couldn’t afford to skip more classes.  Going home was out of the question.  Maybe staying at Cullen’s place would be good.  If anyone came knocking, he had a security system that was better than some banks.  She left the building and drove to back school.