Admissions 1.11: Her Finger on the Pulse (Valerie)
Welcome (back) to Europa University: Admissions! Quick links if you need 'em:
Chapter-specific content notes:
- Excessive alcohol consumption and associated poor decision-making
- Brief, oblique moments recalling the aftermath of past assault
To: "Valerie Devigne" valerie.devigne@fam.devigne.windfall.corp
From: "Emile Devigne" emile.devigne@fam.devigne.windfall.corp
Val!! I'm so sorry I haven't checked in for days, it's been really busy! I hope you and everyone (and your fish!) are doing well!
Europa City is beautiful and all your recs are so perfect and ALSO. I met someone amazing last night, can't wait to tell you about him. Talk this weekend?? (also thank you for updating my email address <3)
Love, Emile
Valerie paced.
Outside, it was long past dark. Her office windows admitted soft golden illumination: glowing from fountains and along garden pathways, limning the branches of the nearest terraforming module in the distance.
Brighter were the shifting, multi-colored reflections from her aquarium and the half-dozen massive holo-panels above her desk.
Two were dedicated to dashboards displaying the live status of her chosen security metrics: one for the Devigne family's digital presence and assets, including immediate family accounts and feeds; the other for what she categorized mentally as Windfall shit.
Adaire had his own security department, of course, as did Devigne Wineries and Holdings. Valerie had built that team herself. But when it came to family, she preferred to keep her finger on the pulse. And when it came to Adaire's pet projects... well. Power and privilege had a price, as Mother always said.
She would know.
Another monitor was reserved for visual distraction or entertainment. Right now she had it set to a video Emile had taken while snorkeling on Terra, sunlight lancing through sea-blue. On the next display over, a stream of media alerts scrolled past at a measured pace, flagged at differing levels of priority and awaiting her review. It was there she'd first seen Emile's smiling face next to that idiot boy Brenn, who'd decided to trade her brother's affection for money and clout.
The last two monitors held her main workspace: one a busy terminal screen, the other thick with overlapping windows. Foremost among them were Brenn's Now feed, Windchat profile and recent gusts, and his "private" mailbox; all hosted on Windnet servers, and therefore as accessible to her as the garden outside.
She'd watched Brenn, in the wake of his moment of viral fame. Watched him bask in the attention on his feed, making coy little allusions, answering questions from the curious and the cruel. Sending gusts to his friends and sharing stories that, knowing Emile, just might be true, but which burned her blood to see bandied with derisive casualness. Watched him receive overtures from other gossip-hungry tabloids, watched him respond and schedule and haggle.
Now she watched his feed languish unattended as his outbox filled with his pleas for help. Unfortunately for him, Windfall’s rules regarding the privacy of key company staff were no less stringent for being rarely enforced.
And Emile had been born “key company staff”, just all the Devigne children, thanks to Lyonesse’s long-ago deal with Adaire.
Valerie had drafted the notice that went to Brenn herself, honing it to razor-sharpness with Counsel’s encyclopedic knowledge of Windfall’s corporate codes before passing it on to official channels. She only wished she could have seen Brenn’s face when he received it from WindSec. Wished she could watch him sending out another despairing message, this time to some family friend with a background in intra-corporate law, asking how any of this was possible. Wished she could watch him open the next message in his inbox: from the college he'd been about to start, rescinding their offer of admission due to his violation of their code of conduct.
Which Valerie, of course, had helpfully made them aware of.
And now Emile had met someone amazing. That he couldn't wait to tell her about. Except that he could, because it was Tuesday and he wasn't going to call her until the weekend. And that should have been fine, except that in the three weeks since he'd left home, he'd already been taken advantage of by some venal little shit who'd looked into his gentle eyes and seen only a chance for fame and fortune.
Valerie paused beside the cooling cabinet tucked under the small bar beside the door, crouching down to look through the glass. Right in front stood a bottle of last year's spring harvest white.
She took it out and uncorked it. Left the opener on the counter. Pulled a glass from the half-dozen hanging above the bar, poured it three-quarters full, and drank.
It tastes like leaves and sunshine. Emile on his twelfth birthday, with a fancy little glass of spring harvest white, green eyes wide in delight at this first taste of the family business.
The little lush. It still made her smile. She drank again.
They'd shared this same wine together the day before his eighteenth birthday, which felt like yesterday but was more than two years past, somehow.
On the border between the woods—the few dozen acres of the planet's old wilderness that Father had talked Lyonesse into letting him keep—and the main estate lay a small lake, its bottom mucky and its shores thick with lake lilies. A small dock extended into it, with a little rowboat that one of the estate staff made sure stayed clean and in repair.
Emile loved it there.
They'd sat on the dock together, drinking his favorite wine and eating cold fish with fresh bread and rice wrapped in grape leaves, and Emile had told her he wanted to leave home, and be a boy.
He'd known she'd understand.
Dion would have too, if xe were ever around anymore.
But even at eighteen, Emile had been presenting boyishly for a couple of years already, in his endearingly foppish little way, and seemed fairly content. So when he asked her advice, Valerie said that if he wanted to get off-world anyway, that he should wait until then to declare and get his mark. And when he turned to her and asked, with not a trace of accusation in his voice, when that might be, she'd promised to persuade Lyonesse.
Which she had. Though Val had thought he'd do his change as part of his University intake, instead of impulsively in the middle of his Reterra.
Still, he at least wasn't here to deal with Mother sorting out her feelings about her youngest child confirming his deferred decision to be a son. When Valerie had transitioned, she’d done so for herself alone; but Lyonesse had accepted it, in part, as a declaration of allegiance. Which was why Valerie had not been surprised to see her take it hard when Emile had made the opposite choice, even if she'd known it might be coming.
This was your idea, Lyonesse had said to Valerie at dinner earlier tonight. Keep an eye on him, and make sure he doesn't get hurt again.
Valerie turned to her monitors, sank into the mesh-backed chair she'd tuned to fit her body better than her own bed, took another drink of wine, and pulled up her little brother's messages.
It took no time at all to find what she was looking for; the timestamps were from earlier today.
Subject: Pleasure to make your acquaintance
To: emile.devigne@fam.devigne.windfall.corp
From: "Cylus Keene" cylus.keene.96#70035@terrasys.registry<via>pub.europa.windfall.corp
Dear Emile,
First, I must thank you again; I have rarely spent a night so memorably occupied. Cynthia said to pass on her appreciation for the café recommendation; we are both now fans, especially of the fish rolls.
Secondly: Our conversation has convinced me to go ahead and apply to Europa University. I cannot imagine a better endorsement for an academy than to have a person like you for a student! I understand that the current round of admissions is for the next study-cycle, so it will be some time before I can join you as a classmate, even if all goes well. But Cynthia and I intend to apply for temporary residency and work permits, in hopes of contributing to and getting to know Europa City before becoming students here. May fortune flow our way!
Thirdly: While we undertake these next steps, we are staying at the Hospitality Suites near the starport, and as you can see, I've activated my comm on the local net. If your no-doubt busy schedule at the University allows you any extra time, and you'd enjoy sharing another evening together, you now know where to find me.
Cylie
—
Subject: RE: Pleasure to make your acquaintance
To: "Cylus Keene" cylus.keene.96#70035@terrasys.registry<via>pub.europa.windfall.corp
From: "Emile Devigne" emile.devigne@fam.devigne.windfall.corp
Cylus! I'm so delighted you wrote! I had such a wonderful time with you and it would be my absolute delight to see you again !I wanted to reply sooner but today I have been to, a lot of events anyway I would be happy to come to meet you anywhere near your lodgings! I am obliged to attend a ceremonial dinner for new students this evening (ha ha I'm late actually but it will be fine, please forgive any spelling mistakes I'm walki in g and inputting) afterwards there is some kind of student mixer that I'm told may run quite late.
Tomorrow I am also over-occupied with mandatory obligations though I could possibly slip away for a couple of hours early in the mornign? But Thurs I should be free after 20:00! One possibility if you are interested in seeing another of my sister's recommendations is her favorite restaurant for eating the local seafood raw (apparently it's very good that way!) also she said it was a "great date spot", if that sounds appealing to you. Alternately we could revisit Callisto's Café and share some more fish rolls if you'd rather somewhere more casual! Or I'm open to anything else you'd like too, and if that time doesn't work I'll find another, please just please let me know!
Warmest wishes,
Emile
"Cylus Keene," she muttered, swirling the wine in her glass. "And who in Fortune's fuck are you?"
Valerie pulled a fresh bottle from the wine cooler and refilled her glass, seething.
This didn't make any sense.
Lyonesse had taught her how to discern fake idents when she was younger than Emile was now. She was the first to help Mother process the rapidly growing number of entry applications from would-be visitors to their planet. The skill paired well with Valerie's natural tendencies towards finding the flaws in systems; tendencies that had made Valerie a natural choice as the first digital defender of Devigne's Paradise, even if that mantle was no longer hers alone.
Yet the documents Cylus—and Cynthia—Keene had used to enter Europa bore none of the usual hallmarks of the fraudulent idents Valerie had originally practiced spotting. The digital watermarks were all present. The crypto-signed stamps of entry and exit matched with the ports they claimed to have traveled through. Their associated academic records showed two believable but exceptional students, with several letters of recommendation that appeared to have been written by actual human beings. And since the twins—given their birthdates—had purportedly spent their entire lives in non-Windfall jurisdictions, there was no easy way for her to fact check any of it.
Just two ordinary youths who happened to be visiting a Windfall world for the first time, specifically to check out the fabled University there. Nothing so unusual about that. The port hadn't flagged them; Europa Uni wouldn't either, if they applied, nor would the Europa residency permitting office. Hells, her own staff wouldn't have flagged them, if they'd been among a crowd of would-be visitors. As long as they'd had the credits.
That was one notable thing. The Keene twins were much less financially well off than their background suggested. They'd registered their idents at a Windfall bank branch just today, cashing cross-network creds into local ones and setting up modest lines of credit. But their starting deposits had been very low; not two weeks worth of living expenses. If they found decent jobs, lived modestly for the next year, and signed up for Windfall's deferred work-trade program, they'd be able to afford the University's expenses; but they'd have to commit for at least a decade.
Something just... didn't feel right.
She paced back to the windows again, her own shadow blocking the reflections behind her. Several small drones moved through the gardens below, little green lights visible as they... watered, or pruned, or maybe applied compost made from the estate's biowaste? Valerie knew what kinds of things the gardrones did, she just wasn't sure what the ones outside right now were currently doing.
Emile would have recognized each drone from the patterns of their lights. He'd known their schedules of activity, and what their most recent repair had been, and whether they were due maintenance soon. Even if he might forget to do that maintenance without his delicately balanced system of alarms to remind him.
He’d named the gardrones after different flowers: Daffodil, Bluebell, Hyacinth, and so on. He named the ag-drones that worked the estate vineyards and orchards, too; after grape varietals, or types of apple or pear or quince or whatever fruit they happened to specialize in.
The lights in the garden blurred and sparkled before her eyes. Valerie blinked rapidly, staring out through the darkness cast by her presence, white wine warming in her glass as she imagined Emile, alone in the city she’d once loved.
Perhaps being preyed upon again.
She could hack into other corp or state system databases that would allow her to corroborate the details of the Keenes’ history, if she took time to plan her strategy. But she’d have to work to avoid detection, and any associated risk of blowback on the family.
There was another option.
"Counsel." She spoke into the empty room, voice flat. "Attend."
A deep violet indicator light turned on beside her terminal monitor; she watched its reflection blink to life in the window. "Present." Its voice matched her lack of inflection, otherwise resembling a human being of unguessable age and gender. She'd commanded it to stop feigning vocal tone when it spoke with her, because Adaire's pet AI annoyed her.
Unfortunately, it also had its uses.
"I have two idents up on my system right now. Review them, and search all Windfall records for traces of either individual."
"Confirmed. Estimated query time: three minutes."
The power of it ran up her spine, a frisson of discomfort and pleasure. Counsel had access to every system on Windnet, albeit through a firewall that acted like a biohazard suit. If the point of the suit was to contain the entity inside.
But the network it reached across from within its very flexible confinement extended across several dozen planetary systems. Hundreds of planets and moons, holding the new-farthest flung children of humanity: those on the worlds that had been, were being, or would be utterly transformed.
And it was her father's work that had enabled Windfall's last thirty-five years of staggering growth: the terraforming technology he'd perfected on their Paradise and which Lyonesse had licensed to Windfall through a steel trap of a contract. She’d made Valerie study it; had shown her every word she'd chosen and why, how key clauses either left a helpful ambiguity or closed a dangerous loophole. It was information security, the same art Valerie had learned and practiced: only the technology was law rather than software. Your Uncle Adaire and I designed this contract together, she'd said, with warmth she rarely shared with her children. Adaire wasn't Valerie’s uncle, any more than her mother's girlfriend Sveta was her aunt. But they could have been; Lyonesse's powerful friend, and her intimidating lover, who had both been part of Valerie's life since her birth.
And now here she was, starting her second—or was it her third?—bottle of wine, alone, missing her littlest brother pathetically, using the power of Uncle Adaire's chained digital intelligence to stalk said sibling's new crush.
Self loathing bloomed in her stomach. The wine in her mouth soured on her tongue.
She needed to force herself to swallow, and then call off the fucking AI, and go cry in her bed like the thirty-five-year old woman she was supposed to be.
Valerie's throat worked; her body genuinely did not want to swallow the wine. Dizziness enfolded her, and she bent her knees, seeking stability as the ground beneath her swayed. She forced the liquid down, and opened her mouth.
"Four meta-matches found,” It said before she could speak, “excluding Europa spaceport intake data and data generated after idents were first engaged with Windfall systems."
The world rotated around Valerie, awareness of her own intoxication vanishing beneath an all-consuming swell of vindication. Those idents said these two had spent their entire lives outside of Windfall space. They shouldn't have a single match. And if they were going to have any matches, they would typically have thousands; Windfall‘s monitoring practices were thorough. The number of matches since the Keenes had registered their idents earlier today was probably in the dozens, simply because they were being logged as new visitors to Windfall-controlled Europa.
Except... the Keenes hadn't registered their idents until today, but plainly Cylus had gone around with Emile last night... Terran time?... Valerie shook her head, regretting the motion immediately. Not a conversion she had to do. That's what the machine was for.
Also, she should sit down.
"Counsel, calculate the difference between current timestamp and original timestamp for each meta-match and prepare a file type and content summary." Valerie flopped into her office chair, sending it rolling across the hardwood; sourced from the Paradise's own forests. "Read list, ordered by date, ascending."
"Ten years, three months, fourteen days. Images, with attached metadata across four revisions and addendum flagged for WindSec-S clearance only. Two children, approximately ten years of age, being evacuated from GJ 1002 b in conjunction with Windfall planetary reclamation efforts. High confidence facial match with both subjects.
"Four years, five months, six days. WindSec apprehension and incarceration records, including images. Subject is adolescent; WindSec-C override required to unseal and summarize contents.
"One year, two months, twenty five days. Request for assistance from compromised Windfall administrative clerk level I, with attached video. Contains description of a blackmail endeavor perpetrated by a young person who is a high-confidence facial match for Cylus Keene. Video includes sexual content.
"Twenty hours, thirteen minutes. Series of videos over a four hour and fifty six minute period. Europa City security camera footage, showing Cylus Keene's activity. Ninety one percent of the footage also includes Emile Devigne."
Valerie spun in her chair, slowly. Her feet touched the ground in feathery taps, keeping up momentum; but the chair's bearing was lovingly maintained and spun effortlessly.
Had been lovingly maintained. The new household engineer was... fine. But she'd snapped at him earlier today anyway, because he was not her little brother, to whom she had never once raised her voice.
"WindSec-C override authorized, on my credentials. Summarize the second item."
"File covering an identless young person who is a high-confidence facial match to Cylus Keene. Apprehended by WindSec in the act of breaking and entering to Vega Station local Windfall liaison's office. Individual responded to inquiries with statements later confirmed to be false. Prior to follow-up interview, individual escaped WindSec custody. Subsequent investigation in partnership with Vega Station did not succeed in recovering the individual."
Interesting. Not good enough to avoid getting caught, but good enough to get in, and more impressively, get out. WindSec had its share of weak links, as Lyonesse asserted all physical security organizations did. But a teenager getting out of their custody was... unusual.
"Play sample of short clips from fourth item, upper limit five minutes of footage. Prioritize footage that includes Emile Devigne, movement patterns not frequently repeated in other footage, and activity outside of direct camera view." Illicit sorts practiced watching for and staying out of cameras, which often was enough to hide their tracks. But Counsel wasn't some third-rate vid-scraper. Reflections might show what someone had taken pains to hide.
Watching the resulting clips, Valerie rolled back over to the bar and refilled her glass, not looking away from the monitor that had previously been showing looped snorkeling footage.
When a polished metal garage door caught the reflection of Cylus crowding Emile up against a wall, her fingers tightened around the stem of the wine glass.
After the clips finished, looping back to the moment where Emile had wobbled out from behind a bush with an unfamiliar red scarf around his neck, she sat in silence for several minutes. Kicking herself back into rotation, she watched the clips replay, alternating between watching the monitor and its reflection in the window.
"Windsec-S override, my credentials. Summarize addendum to first file." She didn't recognize her own voice.
"Encrypted message exchange, Windsec-S clearance level, between Svetlana Glazastova and—"
Valerie stopped hearing, ears ringing. The chair slowed, the world around her tilting out of true, the wine in her stomach—why had she drunk so much of it?—abruptly threatening to evacuate the way it had entered. She breathed, deep, just-controlled gulps of air, shuddering as they came and went.
Of all the people in the galaxy, what were Aunt Sveta’s fingerprints doing all over this mystery boy who had apparently been arrested for infiltrating a Windfall office, escaped confinement, then two years later blackmailed a Windfall employee—successfully, at least for some duration—and now had attached himself to her babe-in-the-woods little brother?
...the blackmail. Sveta’s very involvement was enough to move Valerie to action, but she might as well stoke the fire of her righteous fury with whatever petty sextortion scheme this young criminal had concocted. “Play video attached to third result.”
The looping clips of Cylus and Emile were replaced by Cylus alone, dressed in a purple, black, and white outfit quite at odds with his and Cynthia’s current, apparent poverty. He was sprawled on a bed, loose-limbed and small. He looked dazed, and...
Afraid.
A cut in the footage. Someone was touching him. Cylus was... fighting, pushing against those hands with his own, tears streaking down his face as he cried out—
The wine rose in her again. She turned away, but his voice—she hadn’t wanted to hear his voice, she realized, especially not like this, protesting, pleading, begging—followed her. In the window, she saw his reflection contort. Heard threads rip, buttons clatter to the floor—
“Stop playback,” she snapped, clamping her eyes shut. Trying to breathe, though her lungs felt tight and closed.
Behind her eyelids, she saw Auspice, as she’d found him curled up in her dorm room after the one night he’d gone out into Europa City without her. Barely older than this boy, even if they couldn’t look any more different from one another.
Opening her eyes, she rolled over to her aquarium. Her unsteady breath fogged the glass as she watched the fish dance and dart.
Across the years, she could still hear Auspice’s voice, raw and weeping. Could see dim pinpricks of magenta light flickering around his eyes and mouth in time to his sobs as his photosuppressants wore off.
She wished that’d been the only time she’d heard him in pain. Or the only time she’d felt certain that his pain was her fault.
Her anger cracked and bled, something else stirring in its wake.
"Counsel,” she managed after a long period of silence. “Take message dictation."
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