The Circle

part! Edward wrote. Quid pro quo? It was
1:11 when the blackness swept through her. Her mouth tasted acidic. She closed her eyes
and saw the tear, now lled with light. She opened her eyes again. She took a swallow of
water but it only seemed to heighten her panic. She checked her watchers; there were
only 23,010, but she didn’t want to show them her eyes, fearing they would betray her
anxiety. She closed them again, which she felt would seem natural enough for a minute,
after so many hours in front of the screen. Just resting the eyes, she typed and sent. But
when she closed them again, she saw the tear, clearer now, louder now. What was the
sound she was hearing? It was a scream mu ed by fathomless waters, that high-pitched
scream of a million drowned voices. She opened her eyes. She called her parents. No
answer. She wrote to them, nothing. She called Annie. No answer. She wrote to her,
nothing. She looked her up in the CircleSearch but she wasn’t on campus. She went to
Annie’s pro le page, scrolled through a few hundred photos, most of them from her
Europe-China trip, and, feeling her eyes burn, she closed them again. And again she saw
the rip, the light trying to get through, the underwater screams. She opened her eyes.
Another message came through from Edward. Mae? You out there? Sure would be nice to
know if you can help out. Do write back. Could Mercer really disappear like this? She was
determined to nd him. She searched for him, for messages he might have sent to others.
Nothing. She called him, but his number had been disconnected. Such an aggressive move,
to change your number and leave no new one. What had she seen in him? His disgusting
fat back, those terrible patches of hair on his shoulders. Jesus, where was he? There was
something very wrong when you couldn’t nd someone you were trying to nd. It was
1:32. Mae? Edward again. Can you reassure Helena that you’ll look at her site sometime soon?
She’s a bit upset now. Just any word of encouragement would be helpful. I know you’re a good
person and wouldn’t intentionally mess with her head, you know, promising to help and then
ignoring her. Cheers! Edward. Mae went to Helena’s site, read one of the essays,
congratulated her, told her it was brilliant, and sent out a zing telling everyone that

---

Helena from Melbourne/New Mexico was a voice to be reckoned with, and that they
should support her work in any way they could. But the rip was still open inside Mae, and
she needed to close it. Not knowing what elese to do, she activated CircleSurveys, and
nodded to begin.
“Are you a regular user of conditioner?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Thank you. What do you think about organic hair products?” Already she felt calmer.
“Smile.”
“Thank you. What do you think about nonorganic hair products?”
“Frown,” Mae said. The rhythm felt right.
“Thank you. If your favored haircare product isn’t available at your usual store or
online site, would you substitute it for a similar brand?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
The steady completion of tasks felt right. Mae checked her bracelet, which showed
hundreds of new smiles. There was something refreshing, the comments were asserting,
about seeing a Circle semi-celebrity like herself contributing to the data pool like this. She
was hearing, also, from customers she’d helped in her CE days. Customers from
Columbus, Johannesburg and Brisbane all said hello and congratulations. The owner of a
marketing rm in Ontario thanked her, via zing, for her good example, for her goodwill,
and Mae briefly corresponded, asking how business was up and over there.
She answered three more queries, and was able to get all three customers to ll out
extended surveys. The pod rating was 95, which she hoped she could personally help
bring up. She was feeling very good, and needed.
“Mae.”
The sound of her name, spoken by her processed voice, was jarring. She felt like she
hadn’t heard this voice in months, but it hadn’t lost its power. She knew she should nod,
but she wanted to hear it again, so she waited.
“Mae.”
It felt like home.
Mae knew, intellectually, that the only reason she was in Francis’s room was that
everyone else in her life had, for the time being, abandoned her. After ninety minutes at
CE, she checked the CircleSearch to see where Francis was, and saw he was in one of the
dorms. Then she saw he was awake and online. Minutes later he’d invited her over, so
grateful and so happy, he said, to be hearing from her. I’m sorry, he wrote, and I’ll say that