Chapter 2–Fragile Freedom
Smith checked his phone timer; classes were about to begin. He stood up, dusted his pants, and joined the rushing crowd. Today was an introduction to political science. He never liked the course.
As he walked to class, his phone buzzed. A message from his sister, Alexandria.
"Smith, the document has arrived. And... Thank you for not signing it."
Smith frowned, staring at the message. Didn't sign it?
He shook his head. "I printed it; my signature is right there..." He deleted the message. "Are you sure it's the full document? Hawthorne didn't tamper with it?" He tapped send, trying to understand. How could it be? He stopped moving, sat at a nearby bench, trying to understand how the doc changed.
Just then, Alexandria replied: "Hawthorne is trustworthy, even though he only started working the past week. I trust him enough."
He typed a quick reply: "Okay."
He stood up and hurried to class; he only had ten minutes left.
Smith hurried along the campus walkway, dodging students rushing to their morning lectures. The weight of the message from Alexandria pressed on him. He had signed the document this morning with his own hand—how could it have arrived unsigned?
He reached the lecture hall and slipped in just as the professor began talking about political ideologies, but his mind wasn't on the lecture. Instead, he kept picturing how Hawthorne might have swapped a document without him noticing. Maybe there was a mole in their company?
"Focus, Smith," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his seat.
His phone buzzed again. This time, Marcus.
"Smith," the message read, "my father instructed me to pick up a document you have."
Marcus was the one to pick the document? Why hadn't Uncle Jack told him he would be sending his son? 'I fucking hate cryptic conversations.'
He typed back quickly: "Sure. Pick me up at the gate... I didn't bring a ride today."
No reply came immediately. The lecture droned on, but Smith wasn't listening. His thoughts ran in circles: the document, his defiance, Hawthorne... He now felt uneasy about being in control. The freedom he had celebrated this morning suddenly felt fragile, like a card tower ready to collapse at the slightest breeze.
The lecture ended. Students spilled out of the hall. Smith remained seated for a moment, staring at the empty podium. He wasn't sure if this was the free will he desired.
Smith stood up slowly, pocketing his notebook. He walked aimlessly, his eyes scanning nothing in particular. He was waiting for the next lecture, supposed to be an hour later—something about ethics in leadership.
He saw Marcus ahead. "Hey Marc, any plans before the next lecture?"
"Yeah, I'm heading to the cafeteria... Wanna join me?" Marcus replied.
"Sure, I haven't seen Jenny today... Have you talked to her?"
Marcus smirked. "Not yet. You still want to date her, or what?"
Smith shrugged. "Nah, I let her be after she said she wasn't ready to date."
They fell into step together, weaving through the crowd of students heading toward the cafeteria. The cafeteria was a cacophony of noise, but that didn't stop Smith's mind from spiraling. He wanted to know how Hawthorne pulled off the swap.
Marcus nudged him lightly. "You seem... off today. Did something happen?"
Smith hesitated. He didn't want to reveal something that could be used against him, even if it was his friend. He might inform his sister or Uncle Jack of the mess he caused. "Just... stuff at home," he muttered vaguely.
After reaching the cafeteria, Marcus led him to a table near the window. Smith sat down, glancing at the crowd of students. He felt uneasy; the feeling that the morning's rebellion, his 'perfect decision,' was rippling out farther than he wanted it to.
As they ordered sandwiches, Smith pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped his chat with Alexandria, and typed: "Can you give me Hawthorne's contact... or can you make him my driver?" He hit send and waited for a reply.
"Why? —Alexandria"
"He seems interesting, and someone I can converse with properly. The other driver seems more like a statue." Smith typed a quick reply.
Before he could set his phone down, Alexandria replied: "I will talk to Father and see if he agrees."
He set the phone down; his plan was in motion. He would monitor Hawthorne, check his habits and friends. The first step to solving the mystery was set; he would wait for his sister's reply.
Marcus noticed his unfocused face. "Family stuff again?"
Smith nodded slightly, pocketing the phone. "Yeah... you know how they are."
As the sandwiches arrived, Smith tried to focus on small talk, but his mind kept spinning, trying to come up with a convincing story—something that would reassure him he had made the correct decision.
Smith chewed slowly, eyes flicking to the window. Students hurried past, laughing, living the usual campus life. His mind couldn't focus on a single thought.
Marcus took a bite of his sandwich and glanced at him. "You're thinking too much again. Seriously, what is bothering you today, Smith?"
Marcus's voice drew him from his thoughts. 'Should I tell him?' 'They say a problem shared is half solved; what if telling him makes it spiral more?' 'My conscience says I shouldn't, but I will. I decided to be free; now this freedom is restricting me.'
Smith gave a faint smile. "You know how my family is... too controlling. So this morning I decided to defy them a bit; the problem is, the defiance seems to be spiraling out of my control."
He felt a little lighter after sharing with his friend. He knew letting others into his mess wasn't a good idea. But who cared? Isn't freedom supposed to be about making decisions and thinking about consequences later?
Marcus raised an eyebrow, chewing thoughtfully. "Ah, I see... What little stunt did you pull? Maybe you're worrying over nothing; sit tight and let the problem resolve itself."
Smith shook his head slowly, sipping the soda he ordered after the sandwiches. "You don't understand. The document you are supposed to pick up—I was ordered not to sign it by Alexandria. I signed it, made a print after signing it. The problem is, Alexandria says I did a good job not signing it. How did it arrive unsigned when I packed it signed?"
Marcus leaned back, whistling softly. "Did you tell Alexandria then?"
Smith frowned, tapping his finger against the table. "I decided not to. I will solve it on my own. I told you because I know you wouldn't tell anyone." He turned his head and faced Marcus. "Would you?"
A brief pause. The cafeteria noise seemed to fade, replaced by the rhythmic tapping of his finger on the table.
Marcus turned to face him, a focused look in his eyes. "I wouldn't tell. I think you should tell your sister though; what if the document isn't about shares and collaboration but about something serious?"
He glanced at Marcus, frowning slightly. "I won't tell her. What I will do is investigate the driver who picked it up. I have already requested for him to be made my driver."
Marcus smirked. "If you need any help, then contact me. I am good with investigations, plus my father has his hands on a lot of intel sites."
Smith smiled faintly and nodded his head. That's why he liked his friend Marcus—always helpful.
Marcus shook his head, still amused by the conversation. "Man, your life is always complicated. I just wanted a sandwich."
Smith sat back in his chair, staring at the cafeteria ceiling. Marcus had already left. The noise of students talking and trays clattering around him became unnecessary. His mind felt lighter after sharing, but he still tried to make sense of how Hawthorne pulled off the swap.
He pulled out his phone again. The screen glowed; Alexandria hadn't replied yet. 'Patience,' he told himself. 'Let her respond before I begin investigating.' But even as he thought it, his mind wanted to confront Hawthorne directly, to demand answers.
His phone buzzed. Another message; he thought it was Alexandria, but it was from an unknown number.
"Cancel the request about making Hawthorne your driver. Follow instructions, or consequences will follow."
Smith froze, his rhythmic tapping pausing. The message was brief, but very clear.