The Rise and Falling Out of Saint Leslie of Security by Andrew Tisbert Page B

accusing Dr. Bankley of literacy. This was a wealthy, well-respected man, who worked on retainer for the government. Roger was nothing. An LT who barely got by. A misfit.
    But Bankley was one of those ! One of those men who pretended to be non-literate because reading was below their station. Who shared the skill secretly, but suffered none of the stigma. Someone who treated Roger with disdain and scorn.
    Roger steadied himself, concentrated on Bankley's voice and his own transcription. He seethed the rest of the day, silently cursing Dr. Bankley, his boss, the vision station. And himself, too, for being such a coward. He managed to keep his mouth shut. The way he always did.
* * * *
    Saint Leslie's voice faded from the speakers in Roger's vision wall and he threw his remote onto the rocking chair by the coffee table. Ads from the corner of the wall flashed in his peripheral vision, whispering softly about impotence medication, as he paced the room. He cursed, wishing he could afford to turn the commercials off. That wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't be able to afford it any time soon. He shook the chaos of black hair out of his eyes.
    This can't be happening to me. I've been careful.
    He unclenched his fists, then his teeth, and forced himself to sit in the rocking chair. He forced himself to think.
    What kind of game was this woman playing? Roger shook with fear. And under this fear a rising bubble of hysteria made him want to laugh. He gasped against it to keep it down. It didn't make any sense. The woman, who was to be a saint for killing his brother, called him out of nowhere. He wished he'd been able to see her face. Her voice seemed strange. Roger thought about the subtleties of her tone. There had been uncertainty. A lot of nervousness. She definitely didn't seem to be acting with any official authority. Was it true she acted on her own?
    He raised a hand in front of him and tried to steady his shaking. He studied the rope strands of vein beneath his pale skin, tangling around his bony knuckles.
    Take a deep breath. You haven't done anything.
    What did Homeland Security have to gain by investigating him? On the other hand, his brother had tried to assassinate Washington. So maybe it was logical to watch him. Watch him, sure. But this? Whatever this was?
    He knew that his older brother had been making his way up the ranks in the Sons of Man, but he never knew what exactly he was up to, and that was the way Roger wanted it. Of course he knew the Sons of Man had pulled strings for him as Jeffrey grew in importance—that was something he accepted without scrutiny. That's how he got the job at the vision station, and was able to move out of the scrap town down on the Northwest Side. Even though he hated his life, he was grateful he could afford to live at least in a poverty line district now. He was also grateful to be left out of the Sons of Man politics and schemes. And for the fact he always seemed to be ignored during police sweeps in his neighborhood.
    All right. He had agreed to meet with this frightened fledgling saint. It seemed like the only thing he could do. If her business was official, then Security was already watching closely, and there would be no point in trying to run. But what if she indeed was acting on her own? Roger had no way of knowing what resources were available to her. Best not to run anyway. Best not to look guilty of anything. He forced himself to breathe slowly.
    He had just gotten in from work when the calls began. He was frustrated at losing his composure when they talked, but forced that out of his mind. It wasn't the time to beat himself up, even he could see that.
    Jeffrey had made Roger memorize a calling number years ago, when he officially joined the Sons of Man. Roger idolized his brother back then. He was everything Roger wanted to be. He was muscular and good looking, charming, and never seemed afraid to speak his mind. Roger reveled in his brother's stories about narrowly