Echoes

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A peaceful quiet lingered over the Hub, with very few Echoes in sight. Forsephore reclined on the bench seating around the central chamber and assessed her plan.

On-screen in the darkened ceiling, on the monitors that showed the Prime's activity, fingers tapped keys on Hope's laptop. Text scrolled across the laptop display, another blog post nearing its conclusion. Forsephore squinted to make out the tiny words.

Wonfortene sat in her assigned chair on the dais, and Sicstuphyve leaned back in hers, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the Echo she now saw as a rival for the Prime's interests. It's about four in the morning, Forsephore realized. Hope should be getting ready to hit the gym with Claudia. No wonder 'Phyve is concerned.

Forsephore only spotted one other Alpha in the chamber at that early moment. The others would likely arrive near the start of the day, after Hope's workout. But Chief Sevnynate stood in the center of the chamber, face turned up at the monitors. Her fists clenched, and her lips pursed into a tight line. The look matched the all-business attitude of Sevnynate's wardrobe and the severity of her tightly pulled-back bun.

She is not pleased. Which is probably a good thing. Forsephore examined the radiant Echo closely. And is it a trick of the lighting? Or is she actually dimmer than usual?

Forsephore checked her own skin by comparison and noted a lighter shade of gray than usual. She'd never been bright with Inspiration, at least not that she remembered. But she felt it surging within her, longing for release into an appropriate Echo.

I doubt I'll be able to illuminate when I can't even say what Ideal I represent. She had tried digging through the memory center databases maintained in the convoluted maze of offices deeper in the Hub. Some historical record could trigger a memory, or perhaps a document might shed light on what exactly Echo Four-Seven-Four once declared before the others.

But the records showed signs of purging. And if any other Echoes remembered, they weren't talking, cowed into silence in the face of Sevnynate's wrath.

Still, something triggered a change in Forsephore's status, however slight.

The projection far above zoomed in on the text of Hope's blog post, now that the Prime's focus had changed from typing the draft to reviewing the text.

"Before, I was mortified. But now, I'm motivated. Before, I hid in the shadows. But now I'm ready to step into the light... at least a little bit. (Let's not go crazy here, right? One step at a time.)"

"I'll be honest: I don't always love who I am. But I love who I see myself becoming, and I'm going to be true to that. And if anyone wants to tell me something different, I don't care. I'm not listening to all of your voices any more."

"It's your turn. You can listen to mine."

Sevnynate scoffed and stormed toward the doors at the back of the chamber, a path that conveniently took her past where Forsephore relaxed on the bench.

"Have a care, little Fade," the Chief said in passing. "Lofty ideas are rarely more than targets for a reality check."

Forsephore watched Sevnynate depart, then turned her eyes back to the monitor.

* * *

Hope scanned her blog post and checked the time. I've got five minutes before Clawz calls.

She clicked "publish" then grabbed her gym gear and tennis shoes. She plucked a matching top and shorts from a drawer of fitness clothing folded and arranged into favorite combinations, then shimmied into spandex knee-length shorts before tossing the outfit on. The fluorescent green lines on the black outfit popped in the dim electronic light.

Her phone dinged and she grabbed it, expecting Claudia telling her to get downstairs.

But the screen showed a notification from her blog. Then another appeared. Two likes already? Sweet!

The swift positive feedback gave her a rush, and she couldn't help a smile as she laced up her sneakers.

"Ready to throw some heavy things around?" Claudia's text flashed on the cell's screen.

Hope rose, checked her appearance in the mirror, and noticed a hint of muscle definition in her exposed shoulders and arms where before only soft skin bulged.

"Hell yeah," she said to herself, then dashed out the door.

Three hours later, when Hope stepped into Gander-Mackenroe and Associates, she strode with confidence and purpose. Seventeen likes in the first hour alone, with a couple shares and reblogs. So awesome!

A small crowd waited in front of the elevator doors.  Her boss, Bill stood holding his morning latte and a grease-stained pastry bag from the coffee shop.

Hope flashed a smile and greeted him with a chipper "Good morning" as she walked past the group. Though her sore legs protested the impending strain, she turned into the stairwell and began a steady climb.

Several minutes later, seated at her desk, she spotted Bill coming down the hallway. Hope grabbed the pile of case review folders she'd gathered and jumped to her feet when Bill entered. "Morning again, sir." She proffered the folders. "These need your signature. And your eleven o'clock called. He got rear-ended downtown and might be late."

Bill stared at Hope in confusion and surprise, then silently took the folders with the hand holding his pastry bag. "Uh... thanks. How did you--?"

A laugh slipped out of Hope's mouth before she could stop it. She noted the momentary flash of anger play across her boss's face and apologized. "I'm not laughing at you, sir. I'm just surprised too. I've been working out with my friend Claudia, and it wasn't until today that I've really seen some results like this."

Bill eyed her with suspicion, then relaxed. "Hm. Well, keep it up," he said, and tapped the stack of case folders. "You seem more energetic and productive, so whatever's causing that, I support it. Keep it up."

Hope grinned. "You bet, boss! Here's what else you have on the schedule today..."

Throughout the day, Hope's phone buzzed with notifications she couldn't read while work kept her occupied. Every time things slowed down, she thought about her blog post, and once she even reached for her phone. But Bill's recognition and praise of her improved performance challenged her to keep focused. The post isn't going anywhere.

When lunch finally rolled around, Hope snatched her phone off the desk at the first buzz. A text from Claudia appeared onscreen. "Strong work today! I liked your post too. Shared it to some of my friends from the fight club."

Then Hope saw her email app displayed three hundred eighty six email notifications pending. "Oh my gosh!"

She sprang from her seat, feeling light and full of vigor, then fought the urge to skip down the hall like a schoolgirl with a first crush. And when she reached the elevators, she didn't even pause before taking the stairs down to the ground floor.