Black Marion

8

Like the intermission of a theater performance, the rest of the weekend in the seaside house passed comfortably and uneventfully. Tamed by the little straw bird, Sasha no longer let herself entertain her suspicions and merely enjoyed a thoughtless, simple being. Sunday afternoon, she tucked the bird into her pocket and brought it back with her to the central Sky, where it found its home atop the bedroom drawer, beside the array of roses from Friday morning's note trail. Though it had been days, the petals of the roses had not wilted as they naturally would. A chemical science preserved their romantic beauty, and perhaps would for another week longer.

The next day, Monday, Vaughn brought Sasha to work.

The Department of Cyber Security occupied the full expanse of what people called "The Ladder": two twin and slim towers, searing seven hundred floors well into the sky, linked by twelve perfectly horizontal bridges in the image of its namesake. There was no distinguishing between the two towers, except that one was closer to the Imperial—this one was the Development Tower; the other was Investigation.

Vaughn docked on the roof of Development after passing through the six surveillance rings that hovered invisibly around the structure. Security on the interior was equally dense, with connector access required at every door, sensors likely logging every step. There were no guards; no doubt measures had been built into the walls that could lock and incapacitate any intruder within seconds. Monitor eyes dotted the ceiling of every hall, and every room as far as Sasha could see.

The first pair of human eyes which spotted them faltered as they approached. They belonged to an older woman, whose eyes went wide, sliding from Vaughn to Sasha before she stiffly inclined her head. She greeted the former with a quiet "sir." She said nothing to Sasha, but flitted her gaze over several times as Sasha passed.

The woman was not an exception of courtesy. Soon, they came across another employee. Then a pair. Then a fifth. All the way down the marbled halls, each person had the same reaction to Sasha: seeming to recognize her, but welcoming her return with nothing but silent stares.

Unnerved, Sasha sidestepped a group in a passing lounge. They had been laughing at a man's joke, and seeing Sasha, the smiles had slipped from their faces. Just beyond earshot, Sasha heard the indistinguishable cuts of whispers drift behind her.

She followed Vaughn into a quiet stairwell.

"Why are they like this?"

The Regent hesitated on a marble step. He glanced at Sasha before continuing onward.

"Does it bother you?"

"Naturally."

Another pause.

"You're the youngest Senior Architect the Department's ever promoted. Your colleagues would admire you if you'd ever given them the opportunity to. But you prefer to keep them all at a distance."

Her messaging history had indicated as much. But this much distance? Had she not so much as smiled in hallway passings? Helped a coworker with small tasks, started an idle conversation or two? Built the foundations of any relationship? Her near-death hospitalization and three-month absence seemed to court no sympathy, not from a soul.

"There's more to it than distance," said Sasha.

"Jealousy is a powerful separator," said Vaughn.

It was unconvincing. But Sasha held her tongue, sensing the edge of discomfort in the Regent's voice. This conversation could wait until they were at home.

They soon came into a noiseless part of the complex: an open hall washed white from top to bottom, so spotless that it felt like a sin to walk over the ground. Synthetic plants decorated the interior and framed network art hung from the walls. A crystal arrangement of binary characters dangled from the ceiling. When they rounded the winding corridor, the aroma of coffee drifted into the hall.