Chapter 2

The day started with an acrid undertone. The usual sinking feeling that time was running out, the clock running down. I left my house in a rush, dishes unwashed in the sink and the bed unmade. The land shuttle was late and I paced, my brain already whirring. When it finally rolled up, it was an old clunker and the air was broken. I sweated and longed for the days when I could afford the newer sky shuttles. We passed through the city centre, accelerating despite the potholes and barely braking at the intersections. There were already people out and shops opening up, a hustle and bustle to things. I was anxious to get into the office. We had a new client coming that morning, one with money, one we needed to sign.

Dripping with sweat, I got off a block away from our office so I could walk. Our building was a nondescript brown brick monstrosity – an ugly edifice designed a hundred years ago to be a government office, in the brutal style of the time. It used to have a mini-mall on the ground floor with a coffee shop, nail salon, dry cleaner, dollar store and even a fitness centre in the basement. The businesses were long gone, and the building had been renovated several times since, each reno leaching a little more charm and utility from the building’s soul. We were close enough to the water to be unfashionable, though not yet affected by rising tides. The address and the exterior were exactly the shabby profile we looked for when we set up our business. We didn’t want to draw attention. It was perfect.

I pulled open the front door and walked past the gated, abandoned stores. I passed through another set of doors at the end of the hallway, crossed the empty lobby past a vacant reception desk and took the elevator to the sixth floor. I buzzed myself into the only business on that floor.

“Hi, Susan!” I called to our receptionist-slash-business manager. She smiled but didn’t bother looking up from her screen, I think she was on a call. Fair enough, I suppose. We didn’t pay her enough to give up her side hustle.

Cedric wasn’t in yet, so I made the coffee, grinding the beans in a satisfying Morse code and scooping the grounds into the Bodum. I poured hot water over them, timed how long it should sit and then poured the black liquid into my favourite cup. It was an oversized mug with a picture of a lioness on it, a long-ago gift from Cedric. I poured the rest into a thermos so Cedric’s coffee would be hot. He arrived a while later, poured his own mug and joined me on the comfortable chairs in the intake room. We drank our morning coffee while we watched the Holo-News.

The headlines, about fifteen centimetres high in bold Helvetica font, floated in the air at eye level and then marched around the room for maximum impact. They were dire as usual, painting the furniture and walls