Palindrome: Traversing Fields for Planting.

Identity

Branden looked around at those sitting near him, drinking their coffee as he was doing. The music that came from the speakers above him played a quiet refrain; a soft voice without instruments. He only heard it when there was a lapse in the conversations that were at times deafening. It was strange how they seemed to become silent all at once, lasting only a few moments. Branden tapped the edge of his cup with his tiny spoon in their absence.

He hesitated to open his remote display. It had become something he preferred not to do lately. His presence at the café was another detail which revealed his growing discomfort. He liked his role at the investment bank and what it brought him. But he didn't like the other identity that had come into being recently; the one that used his name; the one he found in William's email accounts when he was closing them out for the day.

Branden's job included making sure his programmer's did not do anything that would jeopardize the bank's reputation or draw public attention. And this included tracking their email accounts. Not just those at the bank, but their personal accounts as well. All investment banks that were the size of his did the same. And law enforcement knew it. Although there were laws against such violations of privacy when it came to the activities undertaken by these banks, laws were ignored.

"Rules are only used as weapons." The words of his manager played back in his head.

Law enforcement even consulted on how best to monitor employee's accounts and at times provided access to technologies which helped.

But Branden was not told his own accounts were being used to send William emails that were designed to confuse and threaten. An analyst had made a mistake and forgotten to direct these emails away from Branden's queue resulting in their disclosure. Branden knew William was viewed differently than other programmers, though he wasn't sure why. And for years, he didn't care, as long as William's work made his team successful. And it did.

William was forty-two, twelve years older than Branden. He never viewed William as someone who might threaten his position—until he saw the emails. Even his own manager had not mentioned he was being used this way. Usually he was kept in the loop on security issues regarding his teams. But he now knew this was no longer the case. He too was outside. He took a sip of his espresso but the lemon twist became caught in his teeth.

Branden didn't know what to do. The emails pitted him against William in a way he had never intended. And when he read them, he saw what they were trying to do; especially the one with the young girl's photo. They were creating a wall around William. He knew he should not let William know what he discovered. This would immediately cause the loss of his job or worse, to be blacklisted from working for another investment bank. And William wasn't worth it. They weren't friends. For all he knew William deserved what was happening to him. But somehow thinking this was not making him feel better about his newly discovered outsider status.

As he walked back towards the office the wind shifted, and the cold air rushed against his face. It felt good. Each step took more effort as he headed up the hill towards his office. As he entered the revolving door into the lobby of the building the difference between that moment in the wind and the artificial environment he was entering became overwhelming and he lost his balance. This had never happened before. He quickly regained his footing and headed for the elevator. The doors to the elevator opened, and he hurried in, placing his back against the railing that ran around its interior. And just as the doors were about to close someone else entered the car. It was William.

He looked disheveled compared to Branden. His hair came nearly to his chin and flowed effortlessly across his eyes. It was black and fell in heavy strands that had not been washed recently. But his eyes were like coal, intense, deeply set and surrounded by high cheekbones and an aquiline nose. He was tall and had the look of someone who spent time outdoors, which was rare for a programmer. He was wearing a long black wool coat that was loose and trailed out from his arms, making him look raven-like. Branden pressed his back further against the wall.

"Branden. I haven't seen you for a while." William smiled and moved to the adjacent wall.

It was nearly 4 o'clock, and while most people were done for the day, William was just heading to work. Most of the time he worked from home but would come in several times a week to do testing with other programmers and meet with managers.

Branden felt the blood move across his face in William's presence. This too was a new experience. Usually he took pleasure in saying something to remind William of his seniority. But knowing what he did about William's email this was forgotten. Instead he found himself suddenly interested in William's personal life.

"Do you have any children?"

"No. But I have a niece, Ana, who is like a daughter to me."

"That must be nice. What's she like?"

"She's eight. But one of the best minds I have come across in terms of programming."

Branden laughed compulsively. "Oh come on."

"No really. It's true. I began teaching her when she was six. She had a natural affinity for it. It's no different than the seven year old virtuoso's who play violin. William noticed Branden's complexion pale and his grey eyes widen.

"But she's a girl. You of all people must know they're never good programmers." Branden laughed again.

William didn't feel he needed to discuss Ana with Branden any further. He knew these kinds of comments only too well. It was why there were no women on any of the programming teams at the bank. It wasn't a matter of skill. It was a matter of biology; of a preference by certain men to feel programming had something to do with their virility and so by nature had to exclude women. Women had to be those who they captured, not those who they worked with side by side on something which by its nature was intended to increase their sense of masculinity. But William knew better than to derive his power from something so ludicrous. Especially when he knew including those outside any dominant group only made his work stronger.

The elevator arrived at their floor. As the doors opened, William moved quickly out into the hall without saying anything else. Branden brushed the crumbs left from his lunch off his suit lapel and walked slowly and steadily towards the glass doors.

William sat in the trading room in complete silence. All the terminals had been shut off. He began the process of copying files to his spec drive; the files he would take to Africa. As he waited for the data transfer he logged into his personal network account. There were fifteen sound files waiting for him. Sometimes he ignored the music shared by his network, but tonight as he prepared for his flight he was grateful. There was even one from Branden. This was unexpected. Branden had never shared music with him before.

Lately William had begun to question the email and other communications he received from Branden. Some of it was too intimate and did not seem like the person he knew in real life; Branden sharing music files seemed unlikely. But William was curious. So he unplugged his headset and let the music sent by Branden fill the empty room.

Branden sat down in his chair. But before he did he removed his suit jacket. It no longer felt like it fit. Since he had seen William's email, everything about his job seemed wrong and weak. It was as if he no longer owned himself. The bank owned everything about him; the email he sent, even his name. He stood and walked into the hallway and looked down towards the dark corridor. There stood William, facing him, surrounded by a wall of unfamiliar sound.