3: The All-Seeing Eye
Miriam didn't go to school the next morning. She pretended to, leaving at the usual time with a cheery wave and a yell of "Bye Mom!". Not that her mother noticed – she was drunk again, as usual, and probably wouldn't have noticed if an alien spaceship landed in the front yard and little green men started dismantling the house.
Instead of turning left towards her high school, Miriam turned right and headed towards the centre of town. She wasn't worried about being missed at school; before she'd left the house, she'd taken a few precautions.
People often told Miriam how much she sounded like her mother. Miriam didn't think it was true, and resented the comparison – she never sounded like she'd drunk three-quarters of a bottle of Jack Daniels. Nevertheless, this unwanted talent could sometimes be of use:
"Hello, Jefferson High School? This is Dana Moorgate. I'm sorry, but Miriam won't be able to come to school today. She's got an appointment at the dentist's at ten, they're doing some pretty major work and they said she'll probably be in a lot of pain later, so they told me I'd better keep her at home the rest of the day. Yes, that's right... yes, I can write a note for her to take in tomorrow, that's fine. No problem. Right. Thanks. Bye."
And she'd managed to neatly avoid school, with no questions asked. Perfect. For once she was glad that people mistook her for her mother on the phone.
It was nine-fifteen when Miriam reached town, so she had plenty of time on her hands. She stopped off at a newspaper stand to pick up a copy of The New York Times, then went to Starbucks for breakfast.
She hadn't eaten today, because there was no food in the house. Her mother had forgotten to buy more groceries, or so she claimed – Miriam suspected that her mother had just been too drunk or too lazy to go shopping, which was probably far closer to the truth. The only thing her mother was bothered about buying usually came in a bottle with a percentage on it.
Miriam bought a cup of black coffee and an almond croissant, and read the newspaper. She liked newspapers. They confirmed that yes, there was a big wide world out there, and that someday Miriam would break free from her dull, joyless existence and become part of something bigger, something more important.
Someday, thought Miriam, I'll be free.
She picked up her coffee cup, and took a sip.
"Shouldn't you be in school, young lady?" said a voice beside her.
Miriam jumped. Black coffee splashed over her table, her newspaper, the floor, and down the front of the person standing next to her. She looked up; Agent Black was looking down at her with an expression of utter distaste. Coffee stains were spreading on his shirt.
"I - I'm sorry," stammered Miriam, mortified. "I didn't mean to – oh, gosh, I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?"
"No."
"Oh. That's - that's good," said Miriam feebly. What was it about this man that made her so nervous? It wasn't just the possible link to Marty's death – there was something about Agent Black himself that unnerved her to the core.
"What are you doing here, Miss Moorgate?" said Agent Black.
"Well, I'm just having breakfast," explained Miriam.
"So I see. But what are you doing here now? You should be in school," said Agent Black.
"I've got a dental appointment," said Miriam automatically. With a flash of inspiration, she added: "Check with the school if you don't believe me. They'll tell you that my mother called them this morning to let them know."
"What time is your appointment?" Agent Black asked her.
"Ten," said Miriam.
"It's nine fifty-five, Miss Moorgate," said Agent Black.
"My goodness, is that the time? I'd better get going. Thank you," said Miriam hurriedly, draining her coffee cup and picking up her newspaper. "And, uh, sorry about your shirt."
Agent Black shrugged.
"Well, bye then," Miriam babbled, and ran out into the street, not stopping to look behind her.
She ran, and ran, and ran, until she was out of breath and out of sight. Miriam looked nervously around her. Agent Black was nowhere to be seen. Relief overcame her. She'd escaped. From what – Agent Black, or a dark fate, or quite possibly both – she wasn't sure.
*
At exactly eleven fifteen, Miriam entered the post office, a smart red-brick building with a clock above the door.
It was quiet inside. The special kind of quiet you got in places like libraries; an atmosphere of intense concentration tempered with the subdued noises of paper-related activity.
There was a short queue at window two, which Miriam joined, increasing the number of people waiting patiently in the line to three.
The number went back down to two again as the first customer, a middle-aged man in jeans and a polo shirt, went away with a book of stamps in his hand. The next customer, an old woman in a pink dress, was served.
She placed a large parcel on the counter and asked if it could be sent first-class to an old friend in Minnesota. Miriam paid no attention to the rest of the transaction.
It was eleven eighteen. Nearly time…
The old woman eventually went away, satisfied that her parcel was now on its way to its destination.
Eleven nineteen precisely. Her turn now.
"Hi," said Miriam, as the young postal worker looked up. "Any undelivered mail for Miriam Moorgate?"
"Just a minute – yes, there's this," he said, and handed Miriam a letter. "Anything else I can do for you?"
"Uh, no. No, thanks," said Miriam, taking the letter.
"Okay then. Have a nice day."
"You too. Bye."
Miriam waited until she was outside before she looked at the letter. Strange - it was addressed simply to:
Miriam Moorgate
She opened the envelope, and took out a piece of paper. She unfolded it carefully. It read:
Follow the All-Seeing Eye.
That was it. No name or anything. No clue as to who had sent her the mysterious message, although the equally mysterious person known as TruthGoddess obviously had something to do with it.
Follow the All-Seeing Eye? What on earth was that supposed to mean? How could she follow instructions if she didn't understand what she was meant to do?
Miriam heard a giggle behind her. She turned round, but there was no-one there. Frowning, she turned back and was about to go down the steps when something fluttered to the ground in front of her.
It was a dollar bill. Never one to turn up her nose at money, Miriam bent down and was just about to pick it up when it suddenly moved a few inches away.
She crawled forwards. Now that she had a closer look, she could see that the dollar bill was attached to a length of fishing line. Somebody was playing the old "dollar bill on a line" trick, pulling it away just as she was about to take it.
Miriam gave a snort of contempt, and started to get up. But then something caught her eye – on the dollar bill was a picture of a pyramid with an eye on it, something she'd seen so many times on dollar bills that she barely even noticed it any more.
"The All-Seeing Eye…" she said to herself.
The dollar bill was jerked away again before her fingers could close on it. It landed again, about five or six feet away. Miriam hurried after it. It moved again, but this time the bill didn't come to rest on the sidewalk; instead it away down the street as an unseen hand pulled in the line.
Miriam ran after the dollar bill, trying not to lose sight of the flimsy bit of paper amid all the feet of passing pedestrians.
"Sorry… excuse me, sir… sorry, coming through… excuse me," she panted as she pushed her way past.
Eventually, when Miriam was on the point of abandoning the chase, the dollar bill fell to the ground, right in front of a pair of small patent leather shoes.
Miriam's gaze travelled upwards, and met the calm eyes of a little blonde-haired girl, no more than six years old.
"She who seeks Truth will find the Eye in an age long since past," said the girl.
"What?" said Miriam, startled.
The little girl rolled her eyes.
"Over there, stupid," she said rudely, and pointed to a museum across the street.
"Thanks," said Miriam, feeling very stupid indeed for not solving the clue on her own. She crossed the street and went into the museum.
Miriam looked around her, and realised that she had no idea where to go next. The museum was vast, and contained several exhibitions dealing with "an age long since past" – Ancient Greece, Ancient China, the Roman Empire, the Stone Age, the Iron Age, and those were only some of them. She could spend all day looking and still not find this Eye thing. All week, even.
One of Marty's favourite sayings had been "Asking saves a lot of guesswork". It hadn't been one of Miriam's. She preferred finding things out on her own. But it looked as though she didn't have much choice.
She went over to the information desk.
"Um, excuse me?" said Miriam.
"Hi there," said the woman at the desk. "How can I help you?"
"Well," said Miriam, inventing wildly, "I'm, uh, I'm doing a – a treasure hunt, and I'm looking for something but I don't know where to find it. The clue said it's an eye of some sort."
"An eye?" said the woman thoughtfully. "Hmm. Tricky one. I know - why don't you try the Egyptian Exhibition? Those kooky Ancient Egyptians were really into eye symbols and scarabs and stuff like that. It's upstairs on the left. Just follow the signs."
"Thank you," said Miriam gratefully, and rushed off towards the stairs.
"Good luck with the treasure hunt! I hope you find what you're looking for," the woman called after her.
*
Miriam wandered through the rooms containing the Egyptian Exhibition, looking and looking again for anything that might possibly be the Eye. So far, nothing.
And then she saw it, in a glass case on one side of the room. An eye symbol made from gold and lapis lazuli, similar to the ones she'd once seen in a book about Ancient Egypt.
She looked down at the caption.
"The Eye of Horus," she read. "Also known as the wedjat, the Eye of Horus was a powerful symbol of protection, and was often used in funerary rites and tomb decoration – this was meant to protect the dead person from evil and aid their rebirth in the underworld. One of the most common amulets of Ancient Egypt, the Eye of Horus was used not only to protect the wearer, but also to bestow them with wisdom and prosperity."
There was more, mostly about Horus: "The son of Osiris (god of the underworld) and Isis (the mother goddess), Horus was one of the most important gods in the Egyptian pantheon. He was usually depicted as either a falcon or falcon-headed man."
Hmm. Interesting. But if there was a point to all this, then she couldn't see it.
Miriam was suddenly aware of someone standing directly behind her.
"You've found my Eye," said a low voice in her ear. "Now find me."
She whirled around, but there was no-one there. The only other people in the room were a group of tourists standing next to a case in the centre of the room, listening to a tour guide.
A Japanese couple with cameras strung around their necks. A woman in a blue dress. A bored-looking teenage girl. A small boy, picking his nose. A quintet of nuns. A young man in black. A teacher shushing a group of excitable second-graders into silence. And an elderly man with a cane, peering short-sightedly at the artefact in the case.
None of them looked like the person she was searching for.
On the other hand, Miriam had no idea who she was searching for, or what they looked like. For all she knew it could be the woman in blue, or the old man. Maybe the teenage girl. Possibly even one of the nuns. She just didn't know.
"Moving on…" said the tour guide, and the tourists drifted after her.
Suddenly the man in black dropped to his hands and knees.
"Darn - lost a contact lens," he said loudly.
"We help you look?" said the Japanese couple together.
"No, no, that's okay. I'll catch you guys up later…"
They nodded, and followed the rest of the group into the next room. Soon the room was empty, apart from Miriam and the man searching on the floor.
Miriam went over to the man. He was young, in his early twenties, with blond hair tied in a ponytail. He wore black from head to toe – black boots, black jeans, a black shirt and a long black coat – and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark glasses. Aside from his dress sense, the most notable thing about him was the earring dangling from his left ear; it appeared to be a tooth of some sort.
"Looking for something?" said Miriam.
"I know you are," he replied, without looking up.
"I'm looking for Truth," said Miriam.
"Yes. And something else, too. You're looking for the Matrix."
"What about your contact lens?" said Miriam, as the man straightened up.
"There is no contact lens," he said enigmatically.
"There isn't?" said Miriam.
"No. I don't wear them. I have perfect eyesight. That's why they call me the Falcon. Eagle-Eye. The All-Seeing One. Do you know who I am, Miriam Moorgate?"
"No, but I'm guessing you're not TruthGoddess," said Miriam. She was getting sick of all these riddles.
The man grinned.
"You're right. I'm not."
"And you obviously know who I am," she continued, the note of irritation starting to show in her voice. "But what I'd like to know is how you know who I am. Whoever you are, please, stop screwing me around and tell me straight. What's going on? Who are you? Who is TruthGoddess? Why did you send me on this – this wild goose-chase? And just what the hell is the Matrix anyway?"
"Calm down," he said. "I can only answer one question at a time."
"Who are you?" said Miriam, exasperated.
"My name is Horus," he said.
"That's not your real name," said Miriam accusingly.
"It's as real a name as any other I've had in my lifetime," said Horus.
"Why are you here?"
"I was sent here."
"By whom?"
"The one you call TruthGoddess."
"Why?"
"To find you. And to show you the truth."
"About the Matrix?"
"Yes."
"What is the Matrix?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
"What about TruthGoddess? Will I meet her?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Very soon."
"Who is she?"
"Ask her that yourself when you see her."
"Are you going to give me any straight answers?"
"Maybe."
"Why are you people so goddamn mysterious all the time?"
"Because we have to be. There are spies everywhere. They're watching us even as we speak."
"Who's watching us?"
There was a noise. Horus glanced up, and swore.
"Oh, shit!"
"What's wrong?" said Miriam.
She turned around, and let out an involuntary shriek as she saw Agent Black and two identically dressed – no, two identical colleagues – heading towards them.
"Miss Moorgate? I must say that I'm very disappointed," said Agent Black. "I expected better of you."
"Get out of here," hissed Horus.
"What about you?" said Miriam anxiously.
"I'll be fine," he told her. "Go on, get out of here. I'll take care of these three."
"But - "
"Go!"
Miriam hesitated for a second, then ran. She didn't stop running until she was three whole blocks away from the museum. She leaned against a phone box to catch her breath…
Someone grabbed her from behind. Before Miriam could even open her mouth to scream, she found herself being bundled into a plain black car by Agent Black's colleagues.
"There is no escaping us, Miss Moorgate," said the driver calmly.
It was Agent Black. Agent Black had got her. And Miriam knew right then and there that she was in serious trouble.
