She overlooked the sprawling city with bandages covering her face. It smelt like death, the odor of pus and pestilence.

  The city serves as nothing more than a backdrop as she contemplated in her mind. Her face’s beauty. Her deceptive age. The pending meeting of the board. She hears a knock at the door. She turns away from the window and walks to it, hoping it is who she wants to see. Thankfully, it is.

  Before her was a woman of a slightly shorter height, and with blonde hair opposed to Basilisk’s brunette. She wore a floral dress which juxtaposed Basilisk’s own double-breasted leather overcoat.

  “Manticore. It is good to see you. Come in.” She beckons, closing the door behind the visitor.

  “Nice office you've got here. Though the amount of books you have on the walls may offend some people.” Manticore replies, looking around the room as she approaches the guest chair, sitting down. Basilisk sits down as she continues the conversation. “They may be entitled to such feelings.”

  “Mmm, sure but that only applies to upper management.” Manticore replies, almost seeming as if she is purposefully being annoying.

  Basilisk nods her wrapped head. “Of course. Now, the order of business. Your idea about the sun and its rising popularity. Tell me more.”

  “Oooo, certainly!” Manticore replies eagerly; enough to fool most ordinary people into believing it is authentic. Though Basilisk is no regular person. She can see right through the facade as Manticore continues speaking, opening a briefcase with a flexible digipad inside.

  “So, the idea and memory of sunshine has been rising among the cultural zeitgeist, particularly amongst western-adjacent cultures. In accordance with my department, I devised a potential solution to meet such a demand via the markets.”

  “Whatever.” Replies Basilisk who unfolds the digipad to look at the screen. “You do realize you are overstepping your obligations, correct?”

  Manticore puts on such a condescending smile that Basilisk finds herself annoyed at the mere sight.

  “Ohhh nooooooo Basilisk, you're misunderstanding me. I know the whole ‘manipulating culture’ is your deal but… I couldn't help but feel sorry for you, y’know? With what Cerberus did to your face and all… must of been really rough.”

  Basilisk laughs in her dry mouth and she stands from her desk. She folds the tablet again not even having looked at it, then crushes it with her one hand. “You had me going there for a second Manticore. But then you spoke too much. If you want my position you'll have to try harder.”

  “You're old Basilisk.” Manticore replies, standing up too and closing the briefcase. “We need to introduce more… youth into the executive branch. Y’know, really get to synergize with the youth in productive ways.”

  Basilisk shakes her head as she approaches the other side of the table, standing mere inches away from Manticore. She looks down on the blonde, her face stink. “Spare me theatrics. Tell me your idea already.”

  Manticore decides to drop the facade for now.

  “Fine, you fucking creepy bitch. Y’know, Gauth Van Hulsieg always talked shit about you. And he was right.”

  “Mhmm.” Basilisk replies, calling her bluff which Manticore promptly ignores.

  “The idea is this. People want the Sun, they'll get the fucking sun. So you can keep being useless at your job. Now, how do we do it? We project an animation of it onto an orbital mirror which then beams down over the US, Canada and Quebec. The projection should be strong enough to pierce the cloud and appear about as faint as the full moon used to.”

  Basilisk is silent as she approaches a specific book on one of the shelves. As she grabs it, she talks.

  “Manticore. You are very cute. Such a unique idea you have.”

  She approaches Manticore who now reveals her permanent scowl. Her pristine face contorted into a hateful mess.

  “I would recommend you read this. It is a book on trustee policy.”

  Manticore stares at Basilisk and snatches it from her, after which Basilisk adds on. “Don't read it yet. In fact, get out of my office. You are not welcome here.”

  “You fucking cow.” Manticore calls her, strolling leisurely to the exit door. Just as she leaves she hears Basilisk's last comment. “You never needed my permission to initiate this investment. But the fact you seek my approval regardless is rather pitiful— I mean, truly adorable.”

  Manticore kicks the door behind her closed. As she opens the block, she sees that it is empty, only having a single note scribbled at its center. “You're a fucking idiot.”

  A few seconds pass before Basilisk hears a strong thud of a book being thrown at the door. “There it is” She says quietly.

  As she enters the elevator, Manticore equips her persona just as fast as she ditched it. “SERaMACs, where is Cerberus?” She asked.

  “Within the lower executive medical bay, overlooking Proteus.”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  The AI replies, having a very particular feminine tone. Manticore comments with her signature fakeness. “Aww… what a sweetheart!”

  She pushes the button to the correct floor, and begins the descent.

  As the door opens, she only barely has to duck down to exit; into the vast circular hallway of this level. The halls are rather empty, lit by fake windows which emit a hollow, faint white light.

  Only a few deranged servitors roam the halls, their purpose for being there she cares not for. She is just so much more important than them.

  Surely enough, she turns the corner into the medibay and is met with the towering Cerberus, overlooking the effluvium tank of Proteus with his arms crossed.

  “Wotcha looking at tons-of-fun?” She asked him. He does not look at her, opting to continue to overlook his other colleague.

  “That is workplace harassment, Manticore. You should know that better than anyone.”

  “Aww, I'm very sorry big guy! I was just testing you is all! No, really, I am sorry.” She is not sorry, nor stupid, but pretends as if he was offended.

  “What do you want?” Cerberus asks, finally looking over, his patience measured. “Basilisk. Was that your work?” She asks.

  “Who else could it have been?” Replies Cerberus, looking back over Proteus. “I must admit I have affinity for my craftsmanship.”

  Manticore waves her finger and shakes her head, moving to his side to see Proteus who remains suspended and unconscious.

  “Ah-ah-ah, bad Cerberus! We have a no-tolerance policy towards relationships with coworkers.” Cerberus looks back at her in disgust.

  He is silent for a moment, really letting her sight and her comment soak in for a while. “I hate you and everything your department represents. Human resources. Disgusting.”

  Cerberus spits on the floor in front of her, gaining her attention. “You continue to linger here. You have one more question. Now ask it.”

  She looks up at him with a punchable, toothy smile just before she asks. “Why are you looking over good old Proteus here?”

  “I seek his guidance. And I will awaken him again soon. He is almost healed.” Cerberus replies, just before pushing her away from him towards the exit. “Go find Halcyon. Or Septimus. Literally anyone but me to spend time with.”

  “Oooooh, Halcyon! Haven't seen him in a while!” She says so convincingly that Cerberus is not sure if it is a lie. “Well then, I'll see you at the board meeting Cerberus!”

  “Spare me.” Cerberus replies as she leaves. The halls of the Ivory Tower, in all of their splendour, are monotonous.

  She gets back to the elevator she arrived in, asking SERaMACs to choose a floor for her. “Hey, SERaMACs, bring me to Halcyon.”

  “As you order madam.” SERaMACs replies, closing the door for her and choosing the floor. Just as the door closes, she wipes off her smile back to her factory grimace. If there ever was a resting bitch face, it was hers.

  The elevator ride takes a while, not just traveling up, but also sideways through the elevator network of the building. It passes by a few clear parts that overlook the city below. But she is quite low at this point, just under fifty stories up.

  Manticore feels a certain sickness churn in her stomach.

  She cannot stand the idea of being around such low-status people such as the city-dwellers. The door finally opens.

  Before her is a tiny utility closet. Within is a jerry-rigged setup of computers, wires, servers, and monitors.

  Sat on the floor on an out-of-place pillow was none other than Halcyon, who wheezy breaths mixed with the subtle wires of computer fans. The faint sound of the rain was on the outside, that is how remote this part of the building is. The door of the elevator stays open as Manticore approaches, back lit by a massive holographic advertisement behind her. Pink and purple.

  “Who— who goes that?” Asked the withered Halcyon.

  “Oh no, Halcyon, are you okay?” She asked, putting on an Oscar, sitting next to the giant as he is glued to his screen.

  “State yourself.” He asked, unable to look away from his work.

  She replies even if confused. Or perhaps, intrigued. “It's… it's Manticore, Halcyon. Remember me?”

  “Why— why are you here?” He asked, ignoring her question. His fingers begin to type at lightning speed on his computer.

  “I just wanted to check on you is all.” Manticore replies, tucking her hair behind her ear as she looks up to him.

  “What are umm… what are you doing here?”

  Halcyon has to finish writing a sentence of what may as well be machine code before he replies. Once he hits enter, he stops for a second and answers.

  “My days on this Earth are numbered, Manticore. I have been given death’s errand. I must complete it before the meeting.”

  “Oh… okay.” She replies, actually surprised that of all people, it is Halcyon who is actually engaging with her. She figures she isn't that good. There must be something genuinely wrong here.

  She gathers that information better from her contextual knowledge than she does by what he literally just said.

  Manticore remains silent other than his shallow, hoarse breaths. He jams his fingers into the keyboard at lightning speed, his screen looking like a time lapse rather than anything human. Manticore decides to play the compassion game to its logical conclusion.

  “Well… I can tell that you need some alone time right now. So I'll leave you to it! Good luck.” She says, getting up and to the elevator.

  “Thank you.” She hears him say, just as she stands in the door frame. His two words made her stop on the spot. Something is seriously wrong the day that Halcyon uses his manners. She says something both authentic and nice for once in her life as reciprocation. “Wow… uhh… you're welcome Halcyon. Take care. I'll see you at the board meeting.”

  “I will see you there too.” He replies. “I will see you all there.”

  She grows a little startled and closes the door before he jumps at her or something. But the door closes to no fan fair. But in her mind, as SERaMACs takes her to wherever, she can't help but think in her mind.

  What is wrong with Halcyon? What has since changed so massively? The questions remain a mystery for now, but in twenty four hours, she feels there will be some answers.