Atrophy

R E D U X .// 2047 //.

Before Maysah’s question could be answered a man quite literally appeared right in front of her. It took every ounce of her will to stop herself from reflexively draining every single neon sign and fluorescent light in the building as she straightened up in preparation to flip the table. Only Peterson relaxing his posture prevented Maysah from causing a scene. Instead, her jumping in her seat had caused only the slightest drop of the drink that had manifested itself in front of her to spill. Maysah eyed the drink that was for the lady with a hint of worry on her brow.

“What?” said Maysah flatly. She looked up at the man that Peterson introduced as Void. Maysah first noticed that he was a handsome man in a nice suit with an agreeable English accent, but the attraction stopped right there. His smile wasn’t bad but his eyes suggested otherwise. Maysah felt her skin crawl. She knew an eyefuck when she saw one. She had dealt with men like this while going to school, while working in the lab, and while fighting crime in spandex. Now she had to deal with one while glamoured up to look like a different woman. She would rather go thirsty the rest of her life than be given a drink because she was the lady. Would he have given her a drink if the glamour had made her ugly? It was doubtful.

She exhaled slowly through her nose as Void began blabbering about his compensation and folded her arms over her chest. Once, she had agreed to take part in a superhero photo shoot for charity. The photographer suggested that she pose topless because her “power was so hot that it melted her shirt” and then called her a heartless bitch when she refused to do it. Once, a man had grabbed her ass while she was at a cocktail party. She slapped him, but she had also been in costume. The man claimed to be assaulted by Stardust, and only when Projector spoke up that he had witnessed the whole thing did the suit get dropped.

There had been plenty of other onces. She was used to the shit. Didn’t make it suck any less. Her hands squeezed against her knees as she sat there and took it again. Maysah had been spoiled with the company of the Tower and Arbiter, who while not without their faults had at least been respectful. Men like Void were one of the many reasons why she never really worked with teams. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply as Void finished crunching numbers and proceeded to try and….what, exactly? Charm her? Embarrass her? Belittle her in front of her peers to make him look like a strong member of the team? It was always just implications with men like this. Implications, regardless of how obvious they were and this one was an obvious one, gave them a cowardly way out if they got called out for their behavior.

Still, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t call.

“Oh, you’re done talking?” said Maysah. Her eyes were closed and her voice was calm. She exhaled deeply. “Good, because I want you to listen. You don’t know me, but I know you. I know people like you, and I will unfortunately continue to know people like you for a few more years to come. Since we’re going to be stuck working together for the time being, I suggest whatever it is you’re trying here ends now. In fact, I suggest you show off that nifty ability of yours where you remove yourself from my mind so I forget all about you.”

“Because if I open my eyes and still see your fucking face,” she continued with ice in her throat, “you will know who I am. And you’ll know that I don’t need a thing like you to finish this job.”

Recollections: The Othergrounds [Complete]

---

Penny shrugged at Odessa insisting she speak for herself and got up from the captain’s chair. If Elron had found some tunes then so could she. She picked through the stack of cds that she was certain hadn’t been there when she had entered the room and found the vile record that would satisfy her dark desires. The awful, solid piss yellow background with the name of the devil himself written in blood red. She turned and walked to the stereo, which thankfully allowed her to miss witnessing Odessa’s freaky demonstration of what was really underneath those robes. She was about to reach for the stereo when Zoey came in and iced the tool of destruction. A mercy killing.

"Now we're safe," Zoey proudly said, "Penny can't make us listen to elevator music."

“If it had been anyone else…” Penny shook her head and tucked the cd into her bag to protect the others from it as Hagan walked through the hole. It was turning into a reunion cruise. The summer camp survivors now had the others outnumbered to the point where it could no longer be a coincidence.

“The fuck are you all doing here?" asked Hagan.

“Mostly trying to figure that out, actually,” said Penny, adjusting her hat. “Welcome aboard. Is this your first time wak—”

Odessa interrupted Penny, rightfully suggesting that now wasn’t the time to be catching up. Caelea agreed with the not-a-fern’s idea that they should get off of the boat and head back to the city, and considering how they had already encountered an Apparition that had collapsed a building by bulldozing through it maybe getting off of the cruise ship was the best idea. Penny had gotten this far in her life without seeing Titanic, and she certainly didn’t want to live it.

Still, there was a slight apprehension in leaving immediately since Lilith and Mao were still missing. Perhaps Paradise had a limit and Hagan and Caelea had taken their places, but Penny doubted it worked like that. What if they were still out in a cabin somewhere? She couldn’t just abandon ship without them, but she didn’t feel right making everyone stay behind if there was danger. She looked at the group. Zoey, Hagan, and Caelea could handle themselves and protect the others. As much as she always hated the idea, they could split up.

“I’m sure we can figure out how to launch a lifeboat, but I don’t feel right leaving without the others,” said Penny as she picked up the mic. Her voice echoed throughout the ship. “Thiiiiis is your captain speaking. Double time it to the bridge. We’re gearing up to go.”

Penny killed the transmission and sighed. Her gaze shifted between Caelea and Zoey as she started giving out orders. Hagan hadn’t been around when she had stepped up, but it felt natural directing the other two. “I’m not asking any of you to stay here. Just the opposite, actually. Take everyone and get those boats ready. If nobody else shows in a few minutes I’ll make another announcement and head over to you. If something weird shows up, fire the gun. I'll be there.”

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

---

As Taylor broke out in hysterics, Vashti shielded the other side of her face so that she now saw the world framed by a handmade scuba mask as she dove down deeper into the ocean of embarrassment. However, a switch was flipped as Taylor continued to howl and knocked her mostly empty drink over and soon Vashti found herself giggling alongside the girl. So she had made herself look like a dickhead, so what? Vashti grabbed a handful of napkins and began cleaning up Taylor’s mess. She doubted she was the first girl who completely spilled spaghetti in front of Herik. She dropped the soiled napkins into the empty cup as Taylor questioned her about Kimberly.

“Oh are you a fan too? Yeah, she’s…” Vashti stopped as the mention of Kimberly and Agatha drew the attention of another girl to their table. Her name was Lyss, and she’d given Vashti the time needed to try and figure out how to go about phrasing her relationship with Kimberly. Vashti imagined saying that Kimberly fought her in a swamp would lead to some begging questions that she didn’t feel comfortable answering in front of strangers. Especially after the Leviathan made more than just a blip on the radar of the authorities. Lyss smiled at them and Vashti smiled back, paling ever so slightly as Lyss said, "Would you mind filling me in on your messages with Agatha and Kimberly as we wait?"

Taylor spoke up first and Vashti let her have the floor. Her gut told her that something felt off, and it wasn’t just the diabetes-inducing blizzard she’d just inhaled. A bell chimed as the door opened and a hard looking girl let her dog inside. It was an open rebellion of the laws decried by Her Royal Majesty, the Dairy Queen, but none of the employees said anything about the pet violation. Perhaps they were true revolutionaries looking to overthrow their queen’s icy rule. More likely the $8.50 an hour wasn’t enough to make the teen behind the counter confront someone, especially if that person was wearing combat boots. Vashti pulled her feet up as the dog padded over to their table. She liked dogs, but they didn’t like her. Rather, they didn’t like what was inside of her, and that feeling was mutual.

"We've elected to switch to more... capable management." Clearly the dog owner meant herself. “I don't particularly care how you found us. Sell yourself to me. Who are you, what can you do, and why do you want in? Thirty words or less, please.”

Vashti’s eyes narrowed. Lyss, from where she was standing, might notice that Vashti’s pupils had also narrowed vertically. Sell themselves? Her gut feeling was growing stronger and stronger. From what she had read online, the Coven was an all-inclusive social club slash support group for weirdos and witches. The implication that she got was that they would be there to help her. It never mentioned anywhere that she’d have to do a little elevator pitch to get in. What could she say? If you don’t let me in I might rampage through all of Florida? Who wanted to hear that? Plus, why didn’t all of the members just arrive together? Were they trying to be intimidating? If so, well done.

Wait…

“You’re fucking with us, right?” said Vashti with a nervous laugh. All of this had to be a put on. She glanced over at Lyss and gestured towards her leader. “She’s joking right? Sell yourself? Is this a bit? This is a bit.”

Her face told Vashti that it clearly wasn’t a bit.

“Okay…” Vashti shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She had been expecting a handshake and a complimentary broomstick, not what felt like an interrogation. “None of that counts as my thirty words, okay? I’m Vashti. Nice to meet you?" Four words wasted. Shit. "Uh, I can tell fortunes and hold my breath good?” I also turn into a monster sometimes and create hurricanes, she thought but decided against including it. She didn't want to use up her word count.

Her nervousness turned towards a frustrated annoyance. “I’m sorry, I don’t really get what it is you want to hear? I got cursed by some asshole and he did this.” She quickly jerked down a sleeve so that the table could see her scaly arm and covered it even faster. “Kimberly said the Coven would help me, and Agatha agreed to meet. I need to get this thing under control. It doesn’t have to be out of the kindness of your hearts. I'm not expecting that and I can pay you all back somehow, but can you?" She countered their leader's burning stare with watery eyes. "Can you even help me?”

More than thirty words. Vashti knew she was blowing it. She sounded desperate. She was desperate. She glanced towards the other two candidates, and silently hoped that one of them would bomb even harder.

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

---

"So, what have we been eating all along then, sugar?" asked girl who had already been imbibing in Dairy Queen's lies.

"Yeah, pretty much!" said Vashti over top of the other girls soylent reference, not realizing that she was the sugar in the question. She elaborated as she followed the other girl up to the counter. "There's not enough milk fat for it to be considered ice cream according to the FDA. But who cares what they say?"

According to what she read, the FDA was also suppressing the cure for cancer so they couldn't be trusted. She decided to keep that part to herself as she stood alongside her fellow jacketeer, stepping up to pay for the girl when it was time. "It's actually my first time," she said in response to the other girl reminiscing about the good old days of DQ trips. Vashti hungrily eyed the girl’s blizzard despite having one of her own. "My parents never really took us to chain restaurants."

Names were properly traded as they returned to the table. Vashti happily dug into her blizzard again, seemingly forgetting the pain of the previous bite. She shot a hand up to her temple but it quickly came down and lightly hit Taylor on the shoulder.

“Hottie alert," she said with a wink, nodding her head over to the door at the heartthrob viking in red board shorts. Vashti’s eyes widened as she realized he was making his way over to their table, and they widened even more when she realized how obvious her staring had been. She shielded her face in embarrassment. Of course the nine feet tall, zero percent body fat, beautiful bronze Florida God wouldn’t tarnish the holy temple that was his six pack abs with the empty calories of a neon colored fake ice cream snack. She wiped her lips and stealthily nudged her blizzard away from herself.

"Hello, new friends.” She swooned. “My name's Herik Cletis.” The name of a swamp angel. “Are you the new members of the Coven?” If it got them closer, a thousand times yes.

Time froze. There was a quiet voice in the back of Vashti’s head reminding her that the Coven was almost exclusively women. The last time she had agreed to meet with someone from the Internet expecting a woman and got a man had ended with her being cursed and him being devoured. Perhaps, the quiet, logical part of her brain told her, she should exercise some caution here, and fully think before joining up with the Coven. What if it was some kind of strange cult, for example? Cults always used attractive people to lure new members in. What if he wasn’t with the Coven, but with the feds? She was certain it was the fuzz that had been leaving the casino when the Leviathan striked. What if she stopped listening to her stupid brain and followed her gut which said he was hot and she should trust him?

And she did.

“Guilty! I’m Vashti Nour. Nice to meet you. Come, come, you should have a seat,” said Vashti, gesturing to a chair and begrudging the fact that the open one was next to Ashley. “I take it you’re with them, then?” Awesome. “Are you the leader?” She paused and cocked her head. “Wait, Kimberly said Agatha was the...sorry, I’m rambling. I’m really excited. You’re really big.” Her hand hit her forehead with a ringing slap at what should’ve been inner monologue. “And I’m really embarrassed so I’m really gonna stop...talking...now…”

Vashti blocked her face with her hand so that Herik couldn’t see the mortified look she had shot the other two girls. She was sinking deep. Someone needed to step in and pull her out of the quicksand. She couldn’t decide between mouthing “help” or “kill me”, so she went with both.

Recollections: The Othergrounds [Complete]

Did It work?

Ghost Note

Recollections: The Othergrounds [Complete]

---

“Oh I know…” Penny quietly sang an off-key ditty to herself as she prepped up a few glyphs on the back of Keno cards. “I should be leaving this climate.” Plenty of metal on the boat; earth glyphs were it. “I got a verse...” she admired the three cards and stuck them into a pocket. “But can’t rhyme it.” She spun around in the captain’s chair again, rolling a quarter between her knuckles. “I gotta go where it’s—shit!”

Penny grabbed her chest as Odessa slinked through the doorway without even so much as a courtesy knock. She’d thrown the quarter when she had seen the figure walk through the door but had stopped herself from repulsing it. The quarter bounced off the floor and rolled harmlessly under a desk as Penny let out a big huff of air. Odessa was a weird one, but not weird enough that she justified having a hole punched through her by George Washington. Although, judging by the way she took that hit from the Apparition earlier, that probably would’ve only tickled the robed woman.

“Odessa,” said Penny with a nod now that she was no longer at risk of a heart attack. “Good to see that you somehow managed to get even a little stranger. Did you rob a Hare Krishna for that getup?” Penny was one to talk with her captain’s hat. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here, I—”

Penny was going to say that she had wanted to talk to Odessa in private, but then the pale ghost from Farmer Hill past walked in. Penny’s felt her mouth hang open. “Oh my god, Caelea? I’d say what are the odds, but I’m starting to feel like they’re being stacked. Welcome to Paradise, glad to have you.” Penny stood from the chair and followed her friend’s eyes to Odessa. “That’s Odessa. She’s a fern or something like—shit!”

A gun entered the hole, followed by an arm, followed by an Elron. Penny let out a groan that was somewhere between the territory of relief and annoyance as she relaxed her stance. “Dude, who’d give you a gun?” said Penny as Elron jacked the radio again and started shimmying to the groove. Penny didn’t feel the vibe and crossed her arms. She was on island time now. Steel drums were a requirement to get her moving.

Stacey found his way to the bridge. Good. Seemed like her announcement had worked wonders. Only a few of them were still missing, but from the scent of cigarettes in the air she could tell that Zoey likely wasn’t far behind the scared dude. Actually, he looked sick more than scared. Penny couldn’t blame him. She gave him a sympathetic smile as Elron warned the crew that they weren’t alone.

"So what's on the ship?" asked Stacey.

“Nothing that we can’t handle,” said Penny, patting him on the shoulder before walking back to her captain’s chair and dropping in. “We’re going to give the others a few more minutes to get here and then we’ll come up with a plan. In the meantime, Footloose,” she motioned to Elron. “How do you know we’re not alone?”

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

---

Vashti had spent a day laying low after the Leviathan had shredded that mean officer lady’s special police truck, and when she had made her return to the Lucky Strike Casino it had been cleared out. Surprisingly, it wasn’t very difficult to find the Coven again. Once she got a new phone (the previous had been waterlogged), all it took was going online and doing a few searches. They even had their own website. Well, okay, it was more of a subreddit, but it all still seemed very legit to Vashti. She made contact with one of the members on the site, and they set up a little meet and greet on Friday. She assumed it was just a formality. In her mind, she was already in and she just had to make it a few days without causing too much trouble.

The Leviathan had other plans. It had seemed to have grown an obsession around tearing apart large trucks, judging by the number of engine blocks she had seen spiked on a metal rod outside of a stormwater outfall when she had resumed control earlier that morning. On the brightside, she didn’t have to worry about losing control during her meeting with the Coven—and her waterproof phone case had worked! Sorta kinda. It had kept her phone dry. It hadn’t prevented the screen from being cracked. She’d replace it next week. Her allowance had already been wasted on new headphones and fresh duds for today’s meetup. Nothing fancy, she wanted to look nice but seem stuck up. Individually, everything had been under a grand.

Still, the woman who had spent six hundred (of her Dad’s) dollars on what was pretty much just a black jacket never felt more out of place than she did when she walked inside of that Dairy Queen. It wasn’t one of those places her family ever really went. Vashti figured none of the food here was halal, so she doubted they got many women wearing hijabs in the DQ. Plus, she was the only jerkoff wearing a jacket in the middle of a freaking Florida summer. She spied the table that she was supposed to meet the Coven at but it was empty. It made sense; she was about fifteen minutes early. Vashti ducked into a nearby booth, slipped on some headphones, and kicked her feet up on the bench across from her. Might as well learn about some government cover ups while she waited and watched the table for any arrivals.

Except she felt the workers continue to glance over at her, and the pressure to buy something so that she didn’t draw attention got the better of her. She killed the conspiracy and stepped in line behind a blonde girl. On her turn, Vashti ordered whatever the largest picture was advertising, and with an apprehensive look she took the ice cream war crime that the acned blizzard pusher handed to her. Hesitantly, Vashti grabbed the spoon and shoveled a tiny bite of the pink soft serve into her mouth and...was pleasantly surprised. Dairy Queen was awesome. Another thing to add to the list that her religious upbringing had made her miss out on. She shoved another bite into her mouth, and bristled at the instant brain freeze. Right. Cold wasn’t her friend these days.

She took another bite anyway and suffered the delicious, delicious pain.

Vashti made her way back to her surveillance booth, but two Covenettes had claimed a spot at the designated table. Actually, at first glance Vashti assumed it was a couple of punks, but then the one in the leather jacket (good she wasn’t the only jerkoff) asked the girl who had been in line with her if she was there for the Coven.

“I am!” Vashti surfed over to the table on a wave of excitement and plopped into the chair next to the blonde girl who was a fellow connoisseur of fine frozen foods. She grinned widely at the two. “I’m Vashti. Nice to meet ya!” she said as she threw out a peace sign. A cloud of concern crossed her face as she noticed the empty spot where a blizzard should be in front of the rough looking girl in a leather jacket.

“Oh, do you want some ice cream?” asked Vashti. She was already standing back up from her seat before she stopped halfway and leaned in to whisper behind her hand. “Actually, you didn't hear it from me, but what Diary Queen doesn't want you to know is that technically it’s not really ice cream." She snapped upright and flipped her hand to the side as if she was throwing out the previous statement. "Still! It’s pretty good anyway. My treat.”

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖 - Cyberpunk Political Intrigue Roleplay

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒t 𝕄𝕖𝕞𝕖

Recollections: The Othergrounds [Complete]

---

Everything was pitch black, but Penny knew she was back inside of that godforsaken mountain. Slowly she turned, and a fraying rope bridge lit by an impossible source was hanging in the void around her. Penny tried closing her eyes. She knew what was next and she didn’t want to see it again, but the black was behind her eyelids and the bridge came with it. She knew it wasn’t real but had to be certain. Penny took a quarter from her pocket, flipped it, and never looked at the result. She saw a shimmer of blue light on the other side of the bridge and ran towards it. She’d be too late. She always was.The blue light solidified into a dagger, and Penny let out a silent scream as the conjured blade disappeared and reappeared dyed red with blood. She stepped wrong and dropped through a hole in the bridge. As she fell, the black began to glow a brilliant orange light.

“Shit!” screamed Penny as she hit the carpet and her eyes shot open, the overhead chandelier glowing with its dim light above her. Penny laid there for a moment in a daze before propping herself up with her hands and looked around. There wasn’t much she could see from down there on the velvet carpet beside a handful of large, sturdy tables lining with stools surrounding her and lights flashing around overhead, but she heard a cacophony of bells, whistles, and jingles. There was a lingering odor of stale cigarettes. A casino? Penny stood up. A casino. She was in a lake of poker tables surrounded by an ocean of slot machines, each one playing attract noises, dotted by a few islands of roulette and craps. Penny tilted her head. She had always wanted to go to a casino, but by the time she was old enough everything had fallen to shit.

Plus the last thing she remembered was that they had been in a replica of her hometown kissing pond, and now she was very much alone. She whipped around and called out for Zoey, but her voice didn’t carry far past the Ding Ding Ding of the slots. She took in a deep breath to center herself, and pulled out a quarter. She flipped it several times, checking each time to make sure the details on the back were the same. It passed. She checked her phone. It failed—still no service and no wifi, but at some point while she was out it had updated to say Weather In followed by a glitching interface. Penny exhaled deeply. Was this going to keep happening?

And would there be another Apparition?

With that thought in mind, Penny stocked up. She pushed a stack of clay poker chips into her satchel and hit up the Keno parlor for a stash of pens and paper. Her next stop was the bar, although she wasn't there for a drink. She took a heavy cloth napkin and rolled up whatever paring knives she could find and—oh, fuck it, she grabbed a fresh bottle of pineapple flavored vodka. Penny saw a massive fountain surrounded by a small garden, and she correctly assumed it was the entrance. She walked up to the velvet-padded double doors. There were no windows showing the outside, an old casino trick to make people not realize how long they’d been gambling for, but she assumed she was going to be walking out into a snowing city street at night.

She was right about snowing and night. The other variables blew her mind. A cruise ship? She was on a cruise ship? Penny ran across the deck to the nearest railing. Below her was a deck of pools and slides, and around her was the dark waters of an ocean. In the distance, highlighted by a moon peeking through the snow clouds, was the dark towers and bright lights of the city. She pulled her orange cardigan tightly around her. She had to find the others, but it’d be insane to search all over the massive ship for them. She headed to the front of her deck, walking past a wall printed with giant impact font that read P A R A D I S E C R U I S E S and she shook her head and muttered. She was looking for the bridge which, unlike the restaurants, casinos, pools, and shops, wasn’t advertised with hanging signs and arrows.

At the front of the deck was a room for authorized personnel only, which meant Penny. She grabbed the handle and naturally it was locked. There was a card reader next to the door. Yeah, she was about to go hunting for a rogue keycard. She pulled out a permanent marker and drew a large earth glyph on the door and then stepped to the side as she activated it. There was an awful sound of screeching and twisting metal as the glyph pushed the inner part of the door out to the edge, leaving Penny with a large enough hole that she could easily step through and into the bridge room. The large windows gave a beautiful view of the snowy horizon and, naturally, there was nobody piloting the massive ship. Penny crossed her fingers for no icebergs. The water was probably freezing.

She searched the room until she found what she had come for: the intercom. Penny picked up the corded mic and plopped down in what she was going to call the captain’s chair. She kicked her feet up on the dash, careful not to press any buttons or flip and switches, and twirled the cord with a finger. She pressed the button on the side of the mic and said, “Test, test?” It was soon followed by a “Hell yeah!” as she heard the sound of her own voice from outside the bridge room as it played through the ship’s entire speaker system. Ideally, everyone would hear her message.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh-ttention all passengers!” Penny found it impossible not to ham up an announcer voice on the radio. “This is Captain Penny speaking of the USS Shitshow, coming to you live from Paradise Radio. Could all human-bodied passengers please make their way up to the bridge on Deck B? I repeat, all human-bodied passengers to the bridge on Deck B.”

She paused and spied a captain’s hat hanging on the wall. She was already playing the part, might as well look it. Penny jumped out of the chair, yanked the cap from the hook, and crowned itself upon her head. Perfect, she looked like an asshole. She sunk back into the captain’s chair and pushed the talk button on the mic.

“Thiiiiiiiiis is your Captain speaking! To any of you who just tried responding to me, that isn’t how it works and you’re a moron,” said Penny. “Now get your asses to the bridge, or I’ll find a way to broadcast Jimmy Buffett. I repeat, you will be forced to hear Boat Drinks.”

Penny spun in her chair and watched the door. Hopefully she wasn't alone.

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖 - Cyberpunk Political Intrigue Roleplay

^{Greater Shill Zone
"NO MAN'S LAND"}

Lott stared blankly at the black screen in front of her. The room was a private conference chamber that was really more like a confessional if it had been designed by bored inquisitors looking for new methods of torture. It was much too short for her to stand without craning her neck, but then they had failed to install a bench for her to sit upon. She could stoop, albeit awkwardly and painfully, so the only option for her was to kneel and pray that she’d be able to stand up after. Perhaps the room truly was a confessional. However, the sins revealed today wouldn’t be her own, partially because there wasn’t enough time but mostly because that wasn’t what the screen wanted to hear. The screen wanted to know how others had transgressed against it, and by bowing before it Lott had honor bound herself to telling it what it wanted to know. So, no, she decided, it wasn’t a confessional but rather the denunciation station, her whistle blow signalling the arrival of the snitch express.

Only, judging by the blank screen, there was nobody waiting like a military wife for her shell shocked husband at the platform. Lott didn’t redirect her gaze from the screen. For all she knew, they could be watching her. They was in reference to the most important person in Lott’s world: her manager. She needed a manager so she could do her job. Her real job. Gatch was only her manager on paper. The screen was the-pronounced-thee manager with a capital M. Without The(e) Manager she was a lost sheep in a synthetic wool suit who’d stare at a blank screen for, she guessed, seven minutes straight without moving or even saying a word. She reached her wrist up to check her guesstimate.

In that one movement, her hand accidentally tapped the blank screen. The dark denunciation station radiated with a harsh blue glow as the image of The(e) Manager appeared on the touchscreen. They were nothing more than a still gray blob of a human silhouette, but she knew it was them nevertheless. The(e) Manager spoke and the blue bars danced behind its silhouette like a crashing wave.

“You are twenty minutes late, Ms. Ramana,” said The(e) Manager, their voice as sexless as their appearance. Lott blinked. Considering she had been five minutes early, that meant she’d been staring at nothing for nearly half an hour. She made a mental note to mention her slippage of time to Howland next time she saw him, and then made another mental note to make an actual physical note considering she’d surely forget that first one.

“My humblest a—”

“What is your report?” said The(e) Manager, cutting Lott off.

Lott paused. How could she word what she wanted to say without directly saying that she had nothing to say? Lott had so far discovered that if someone on Gatch’s team was actively working against him then all he had to do was sit back and wait while the rest of the crew just botched the campaign due to their ineptitude. The security team they had hired had been an absolute mess, with one of them blowing themselves up while another had not only failed to protect the innocent life of her cellular but had also confiscated its remains and prevented it from reaching cell Valhalla. However, they were contractors, not team members. They couldn’t be held responsible for the things The(e) Manager was hoping to squash.

“I have currently vetted a number of campaign workers and volunteers, but have yet to come to any conclusive data on whether or not any of them could intentionally be planning to sabotage the Mayor’s campaign. After extensively dealing with the media these past few weeks, I have begun to believe that there’s a decent chance that the outlets are just creating stories and seeing which ones make us flinch. How—”

The blue lights danced to life and signaled that it was time for her to shut up. “Ms. Ramana, I would like to remind you that your duty is to find proof of the existence of saboteurs and not the opposite.”

“Yes, you have been quite clear in your expectations and I look forward to achieving them,” said Lott. Achieving, but not exceeding. The better she did, the more they’d expect from her next time. Overachieving only led to becoming a future disappointment. “As I was about to say, there has been some issues with one of the new security contracts: Knight…” She scanned back through her footage until she caught sight of Glory’s badge. “Knight Enterprise. I currently plan to proceed with investigating whomever was in charge of hiring the—”

“Ms. Ramana, the company has put its faith in you as one of its most valued auditors. Not only do we not need to know how you plan to conduct your investigation, we cannot afford to have our time wasted. If you have nothing to report, than you only have to say it.”

“Currently I have nothing new to report,” said Lott, averting her gaze.

“How unfortunate, Ms. Ramana. Remember, further waste of the company time will be noted in your performance review and docked from your salary. Hopefully you will come back to us with a name next time.”

“Yes, of course, thank you.”

”And Ms. Ramana?” Lott looked up. “Do be careful. Word is the locals are getting a little rowdy around there.”

The silhouette snapped out of existence as the screen went to a solid soft blue glow. Lott dug her fingers into her thighs. The company had made it clear: they didn’t want the truth, they wanted a scapegoat. She didn’t doubt that it’d end up being her if she couldn’t produce a name. She wasn’t an auditor. She wasn’t a counteragent. She was an executioner tasked with performing a blood sacrifice to appease the gods of upper management, and if she couldn’t find a heart to cut out then she better tear out her own.

Lott stared at the blue screen, and the gray blob that was her grainy reflection stared back. How unfortunate? A waste of company time? She slammed her face against her reflection and the screen went black. She let out the angry breath of hot air that she’d be holding inside, and slammed her face against it again. The screen flipped from black to blue and back again as she repeated the exercise until something cracked. She looked up. The screen had given out before her nose, a dash of blood highlighting the spider web of glass. The soft blue light made the red blood look purple. It was inhuman. Synthetic. Alien.

Lott wiped the mess away with her sleeve, and checked her watch.

When she looked up, it was brighter and she was standing. Lott was in the gilded chrome cage of the VIP elevator. She knew it was the VIP elevator because it came with a liftman in an exosuit with a rifle casually slung in front of his chest. The normal elevator only came with the light smell of disinfectant and lingering tobacco smoke. The armed security guard slash elevator operator was holding out an embroidered handkerchief towards her. Lott’s brow twitched—it was the most quizzical look she could give—and the liftman waved the kerchief again. Was it part of his job not to speak? Very important people didn’t like chatter. She was curious how long he’d continue to do this strange gesture without speaking, only to realize when she rolled back the past that he had spoken.

“You’re bleeding,” he had said thirty seconds ago. An eternity, when it came to offering someone a tissue. A weaker man would’ve stuffed the handkerchief away by now. This was why he was given the illustrious position of making sure none of the common corporate scum stink up the VIP lift that was only reserved for special corporate scum. If he hadn’t thought of Lott as that special kind of scum before, he certainly would now as she continued to vacantly stare at the rag. There was a tiny design on it of a chibi girl. It made Lott think of her intern as she grabbed the tissue and dabbed her nose, careful not to get her tainted blood on Theresa’s face.

She went to return the handkerchief but paused. She had to know. She unravelled the wadded cloth and looked: red blood. Human after all. That was a pity. She quite liked the idea of potentially being extraterrestrial. Lott went to hand the rag back, but the liftman paused her with his hand and shook his head. It was hers. Fine. She could use a Theresa towel. Lott carefully folded the rag and put it in her front suit pocket. The elevator dinged and her time with the liftman was over. She felt her heartbreak as she walked out of the chrome cage without even giving him a head nod. If she had, he’d recognize her immediately as not being very important and likely would’ve gunned her down before she reached Gatch’s hideaway.

Lott crossed the reception area and mouthed “I’m expected” to the secretary as she fired off a snap from the old business gun at the double doors. There was a buzz, and the doors swung open to another set of double doors. Lott stepped forward, the first set closed behind her, and the second set opened with another buzz to the situation room. She paused and adjusted the liftman’s handkerchief so that “Theresa” was poking her little wide eyes over the edge of her pocket. This was where real business happened. Her intern deserved to see it. Lott looked up in time to see the doors automatically beginning to close. She slipped through with one long step.

A series of heads snapped to see who had broken through their tight defenses of one armed elevator man, one highbunned secretary lady, and two pairs of double doors. Lott was hit by a barrage of disapproving looks that the woman was all too comfortable with receiving before the heads returned to staring at the screens and muttering to one another. She looked at the screens of the growing crowd of protestors below. Now that was living. She wished she could be part of that crowd. Pushing, screaming, vandalizing, drinking—

Drinking? Lott felt a spark of life inside of her hollowed cavity and scanned through the covered faces of tired citizens. Behind the crowd was another crowd, and above that smaller crowd Lott watched a shaker spin in the air before disappearing back behind them. Cool moves, but could it be? Lott smiled, and the cameras were engulfed in flames. Not the cocktail that Lott desired, but it at the very least broke her attention from the excitement of raising violence. She clutched her tablet to her chest and approached Gatch. He seemed calm like she seemed calm, although his calm was likely meditative while hers was medicated. He exhaled as she stepped beside the couch he had been watching the Riotvision. It was a warmer kind of a hello than Lott had anticipated.

“We should prepare for the worst,” said Lott, staring at the screen of black smoke. She wasn’t talking about the riot. “We’re ahead in the straw polls, but that has only driven the other parties towards working together to embarrass us during the debate. The Pirates intend to leak footage of what they claim to be a schizophrenic woman being roughhoused by Central Party funded security. Said whackjob has ties to the NTP. I’d like to run through some questions so they don’t tear us apart up there.”

Assuming, Lott calmly glanced at the screen, they didn’t get through and tear them apart in here.