2am. Dark and deep into the summer. Flies and mosquitoes rising on gelatinous air. A heavy car door closes, a quiet thump in the gloom, trying not to be heard. The night is too dense for echoes, every inch already saturated by the screech of cicadas - all the better. The procession moves without disturbance.

Whispers of caution make their way only to nearby ears, not a step further. Affirmation, and dark shapes dart by, half the group to the left, half right. They stop and wait, rising and falling with ragged lungs. Heat layered on moisture layered on soot particles and cloth masks and regulation laminate glass goggles. Barely breathable, and preparing for far worse.

---

A team of twelve rounds the house, flattening the unkempt grass of the lawn, already laden with what might have been more heated sweat than dew. A soft crunch is noted and word passed on: there is a feeble chain of barbed wire laid in the dirt, in the blanket of thick grass. With no neighbors to complain, evidently the lawn had been left to tend itself a long while. Bad news for some, no doubt, but the group of visitors is in luck. Without the threat of neighbors, the inhabitants of their marked house had not seen to take greater precaution than a bit of worn chain and withered barbed wire. The structure's careless facade had been all it needed to fit in until now, sufficient defense, and the inhabitants must not have thought to add more.

The masked team splits again, slipping along the walls parallel to the dilapidated fence and finally reaches the back garden a its small, steel framed door.

A tiny yellow light in the window peeks through a sheet of metal netting. Close now, there are more whispers, but coming from inside. Flies hovering against glass. The back garden has been worked, more so than the front. The grass is displaced. There are mounds.

And in the sweltering heat, the team further secures their face masks and on a low, breathy count, explodes inward where they are met with the filthiest of yellow walls, the penetrating smell of flesh and the faces, faces of those who had so long been missed. Friends and family towns over, begging for news. Dozens of desperate posters and broadcasts, months of searching and interviewing and mulling and buildup and buildup -- and now, it’s as if the dam has burst. They are found.

One of those grim faces turns. A familiar one, someone who was dearly missed by a mother and father, still alive, a brother, wife, and five tearful children. Behind him, two more children, one of the mansion complex to the East, another of the inner city, shuffling behind each other, eyes wide, ever the more missed.

They hover over a meal. It is the food they eat that is the giveaway that they are no longer themselves.

For a moment, even though it was warned they would be faced with exactly such a sight, there is confusion. Even with the stench, not a nostril twitches. In the lull of activity, one of the invading team moves to perform the sufficient diligence - a small figure who slips proudly between the divide, and performs the check.

That’s what the news clippings will call it.

The check, as it is named, ended with one of the women (who had disappeared on her way home from work two months prior) began shrieking, and then the children began to pitch in, as if they knew, and the surrounding protectors fumbled for weapons that were not there, and that was when their visitors began their work. Dutiful to the end, all in due process.

Mosquitoes and flies flit off as the air begins to rattle ever more violently, until finally subsiding into a silence that could only mean:

---

Incredible success after two-year terror

The story was cut out of its page, and abruptly cut off, by haphazard scissors. The edge of the clipping sheared straight through at a sentence from the police chief. Saohme delicately flipped over the flaking square of newspaper, but the other side only had some numbers on the dairy industry, and half a photo of someone he didn’t recognize. He let the sheet settle back against the corkboard, hanging from its slightly rusty thumbtack, and read over the headline again.

The Incredible Success had been front page news of its time, and because of that grand claim its clipping was rather large. But apparently the latter half of the story was unimportant enough to have its concluding section snipped by the person in charge of the display. The clip was, however, sporting a date. A little over seven years ago. He tried to remember what he was doing that night. Nothing so important, surely.

The wall-mounted board had at least twenty other articles on display, but there were no other events of such magnitude as that of summer seven years ago, and specific dates were harder to infer on the smaller clippings. Some stories came on tiny squares taken from smudged corners, or in thin strips packed between adverts. A few let slip the days or seasons, but no years. That was alright. After a few more moments of inspection, he was quite sure the front-pager was the oldest piece on display. He was also fairly sure of what linked all the stories, and he could have guessed without actually reading any in full.

Sao straightened his back, straightened his tie, and went to lounge with his small zippered pocket of belongings on the stiffly constructed bench across from the corkboard. A hard square of sunlight was beamed at the center of the wooden floor. There was a lot of wood panelling in the front hall, and he’d noticed the same in the stairwell and further into the apartment. This was an old building, or wanted to look the part. The uniquely mismatched boards created plenty of cracks in which dust could gather. He gazed into the flecks swirling the hazy golden shape and felt his eyelids grow heavy.

He laughed a little to himself: dozing off, not good for the first few moments of a new job. But the job hadn’t really started yet, had it? And in any case, he had been told not to worry himself into a panic. Or was that the advice he’d been giving out himself during assignment? The placement officer had been very kind about the whole process, and there had been a few other clerks in the session who did not look quite prepared to start their outer office careers, for their own reasons.

Well, if he'd been the one reciving the advice, consider it done.

As he allowed himself a small yawn, there was a papery shuffle and loud clatter from down the hall. A head shot out from around the corner as though loaded on a spring, blinked at him, then retracted. Another hurricane of shuffling, then a loud slap, and then around the corner, this time in the full, came his new supervisor.

Sao stood and could not hold back the incourteous quip to himself, now here’s someone who worries.

The man was late to meet his new colleague by twelve minutes, but clearly he had been hard at work since long before then. His hair was in matted disarray, his jacket a crumpled mess that spoke of hours slouched over a desk. Most telling of all were the pair of wide reddish eyes, his face seemed to cave around them, creased into a rock-solid frown, undereye shadowed with marks so dark they resembled bruises. But whatever assignment had given him those two black eyes evidently hadn't knocked him out just yet. He was tense, ragged, but there was a glint in his eyes that pierced the shadows that rimmed them, albeit a light finding it difficult to refocus on the stranger in the hall.

Sao smiled at him. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” The supervisor squinted at the small window on the loose wooden door, the source of the golden light on the floorboards, and rubbed his eyes as if he couldn’t believe that it were really morning. “You’re the new office guy, of course. I should show you to your desk. Sorry for the wait.”

“Oh, no worries. I was admiring your collection.” Sao opened a hand towards the wall of articles.

The supervisor glanced at the board and squinted at it with the same suspicious scrutiny he had given the window.

“Someone’s been watching the Life Fountain Movement, I see.” Sao said, sliding a finger towards the headliner. “The big one. Even I've heard the old boys talk about the chaos of that fateful summer. It was the one that really kicked things off.”

The supervisor now locked his gaze onto Sao, who was maintaining his light, easy smile, and unexpectedly returned a lopsided grin himself. It was one of the most unfriendly expressions Sao had ever seen, there was no preface of kindness, such that it nearly burned to return eye contact.

“There’s a whole lot bigger going on these days. But with everyone getting used to it, the articles get smaller.” The supervisor shook his head. “Not that there’s any less work involved behind the scenes. That’s what we’re for. Come on. Uh...” He tapped his neck and his stare loosened for a moment. Sao waited patiently. “Saohme. I know how to spell it, but did I say it correctly? Who knows.”

“All good, sir.”

“Sir…” Another thought deposited into the swirling mass. And rejected. “Makes me feel old. You know my name, don’t you? Call me Rai.”

"Of course. My bad, the old office habits are hard to break.” Sao steadied his smile and strode forward. “Rai it is, then. Pleased to meet-”

Rai’s hand extended towards him. Sao opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. He inspected the hand as if it were some extraterrestrial plant. He did know the proper, professional response, of course - the problem was explaining why he could not do it. It shouldn’t have been hard, but what unseated his routine was Rai’s thick, dark gray gloves.

Without the gloves, this would have been straightforward. The sight of skin and he'd have sprung his excuse immediately. But instead, he was tempted to reach forward too. Perhaps this would work, the gloves looked dense, perhaps Rai knew something he didn’t and manners could prevail just this once--

He didn’t quite make it. His hand flitted forward, but slipped back before the slightest contact. Then again, even more abrupt. Then back to his own chest and no more. It was not happening. Rai remained frozen in place.

Sao smiled again. First day at the office, first minutes in front of the boss - not a good time to undergo major soul-searching. Time for the coverup.

They stared in silence at the air between for a while, Sao smoothing out a response his in head. He had some confidence in his excuses, but Rai caved first.

“Sorry,” Rai mumbled, “I heard about your condition from the file. For some reason I thought you--” He lowered his hand, brushing it against his side as though it had been rejected for uncleanliness. “Shouldn’t have tried something like that. It wasn't supposed to be a trick or anything, I was just... mistaken.”

Giving it a moment, Sao broke into a chuckle. “I should be the one apologizing - should have told you right away." He curled his fingers into his palm. "Awful manners on my part, I know, but I can never bring myself to do shake hands. Pats, hugs, casual claps on the shoulder – a hand nears and it's all the same. Something about the sight, smell, touch of skin - the thought, even - it makes me uneasy. It’s long story. But gloves, I'll admit, I hadn't taken into consideration. Most people don’t take precautions. My apologies for the little… episode there. You know how is it with a condition - the brain freezes up, I try, fail, and my end of the bargain ends up in these ridiculous wrist exercises.”

He laughed.

“I know. It’s a phobia, right? That isn’t something you can just turn off, so…” Rai balled up his own gloved hand. “Let’s skip it. I’m not into the business handshake myself.” And there was that lopsided smile again. “It’s just an old office habit. You know how they are.” He shrugged, a loose surrender, then dropped his hands to his sides. That was all.

Sao relieved himself of another chuckle, and at that note of approval, Rai gave the board a wistful look and then directed Sao to the end of the hall. “Your workstation is back here.”

---

Sao had another (and perhaps more sincere) apology to make for what he had expected to see. A disheveled owner, late and squinting at the sun, the flutter of paper he had heard, the hall beige-painted and wood paneled like the portrait of an old school - he had admittedly been braced for a perfectly picturesque disaster. The images of an old library or professor's abode, book-lined walls, boxes stacked high, loose drifting sheets and the like. The police headquarter's record rooms always ended up in such states, even with its dedicated cleaning staff, and this had the additional limitations of being a one-person operation.

What met him instead was a brutally simple setup, with just enough machinery to look absolutely unlike the stately library of his imagination. At the forefront sat a pair of darkened computer monitors, sharing a desk with a comically large set of speakers, and an (also unnervingly sized) pile of documents in a neat brick. The desk itself was wide with a plethora of drawers, constructed of wood just a few tones off from the floors and walls. Against the wall, below the high iron-bar windows, was a large free-standing printer flanked by some packets of extra paper. There were two steel filing cabinets, an uncomfortable looking bench that matched the one in the hall, and an additional desk (that looked considerably newer than the occupied one.) Beside it was bookcase, rich hardwood built into the wall - empty save for two binders lumped into a corner. Not much else of note. Nothing was particularly well coordinated, but nothing looked out of place - they weren't trying for beauty, but it was, in every bit, functional.

“Nice office.”

“You can set up here,” Rai told him, opening a laptop on the new desk. “Bathroom's in the hallway, kitchen’s on the other side of that. Not a lot in there in other than coffee at the moment, but help yourself.”

“I may take you up on that offer.” The office was lit with the same dozy golden light as the hall, falling from two large windows. And despite the modern fixtures (or lack of fixtures at all) there was still a good quantity of dust still floating through the air. Sao smiled to stifle a yawn. “About that - any good places to eat?”

“Yeah. Sort of.”

Evidently not a food fanatic, he'd hardly fit in at the main offices. Rai’s eyes and black-gloved hands had not come off the laptop. “Give me a moment to set up the printer. We live and die by this thing. A shame for the environment, yeah, I know, but some of the office dinosaurs refuse anything but a hard copy, so that’s what they get. Until things get bad enough.”

“Finally! They're churning constantly at the main offices too, but complaints fall on deaf ears. Though I’m sure our seniors have more on their minds than paper. Having to manage both continental trials alongside twenty new machines? I can't bring myself to push it. Perhaps when things become bad enough... but by then it's too late. That's always the problem, isn't it?”

Rai shot him another possibly regretful, possibly annoyed glance, and returned to the computer issues at hand. “It was the same with the LF movement.”

“I imagine crime certainly got bad enough for such dramatic measures to get pushed into practice.”

“The disappearances. Back then, newsreaders called it an epidemic. Kids, adults, even animals. Top of the corporations down to bums on the street. An inhuman problem called for an inhuman solution.” Rai glanced at his desk. “Yeah. A little paper means nothing compared to that.”

Sao nodded politely and leaned on the larger desk, peered at the stack of paper sitting below a pair of monitors. The pile was several inches thick and so immaculately aligned he could immediately see that he had shifted it when he had put his weight on the desk. A prod sent the balance toppling in another direction. “No need to lose sleep over a little paper. But good lord, this looks like a long one.”

“It’s actually five in one. Some late-game lawyer pulled them all together: a decade-long crime streak, at least that’s what the officers surrounding case #5 think. If the incidents are all related, they’re gonna need an audit with all the numbers and an points of intersection with full citation by tomorrow.”

“What kind of incidents?”

A grimace. “Money matters. Smuggled stashes, accounts out of line and such.”

“Ah.”

Sao thought he’d sounded sufficiently concerned, but Rai smirked at the curt response. “It’s been a dry spell, nothing interesting in the past two months, at least. The office isn’t normally this clean. Of course, it’s easy for me to say from that boring desk with just a mandated stack of paper, but a little blood or strangeness on the page makes for a more engaging read. More worthwhile.” He tapped a few more keys. “But ‘worth’ for the brass is the millions getting juggled around in paper trails like the one you see there. Well, in this case it more like a few hundred thou.”

“I’ve always had a weak stomach, but I think I’d rather eye some thousand dollars than dead bodies.”

“We don’t get to see the money either way. Lose-lose.”

“Oh.”

Rai’s fixation on the screen softened for a moment. “I kid. The ones that get tagged as money cases are boring, but not real downers. I’m not on the receiving end of the good stuff, but at least I also get to miss out out on the bad. It’s not my loss. And I get a couple thousand on the table no matter what. Well - as long as the assignment gets done. And sometimes you catch something interesting, something that fell through at the time the case was originally written up. It doesn’t have to be bloody. The best leads are the ones that you couldn’t have expected… could say that for the worst ones too...”

He trailed off and began clicking forcefully on the computer mouse.

Sao nudged the stack of paper with his fingertips again. Quite the tower, something surprising certainly could be hidden in that. But how many hours of checking -- he frowned. “Did you say that this stack’s due tomorrow?”

“11 in the morning, they’re hoping.” Rai rubbed his red eyes with the back of his glove at the mere mention of another morning.

“How far along are you?”

“Haven’t started. The file just came in, just finished printing.”

“Are the requests always like this?”

“Hm?” Now Rai was the one with the short replies.

Sao tapped the pile. “Essentially five full audits, in less than 24 hours. Each one's decently long. I had to file a couple of these requests myself, headquarters is supposed to give this quantity of material a day per file, at least.”

“Yeah, I should get started.” And, confusingly, Rai let out a puff of air that was approaching a smug chuckle.

Sao stared him down, smiling reflexively.

“Come on,” Rai hissed, again completely distracted by the misbehaving printer.

Sao folded his arms and scrutinized his supervisor properly, for the first time. Eyebags like black holes and a tired slump could mean hard work, but it could also mean the opposite. But it didn’t add up with the assignment on the table. A procrastinator? No, this would be cutting it too close (even for Sao) unless he were lying about the time of the request, which would have been pointless. His task description would be easily found, even more so to Sao since they now sat under the same office (not that he’d checked the global task list recently). So had HQ simply put through an unreasonable request? If so, Rai did not seem too concerned. Perhaps they did not really enforce such hard deadlines.

Less flavorful options. Perhaps he’d hand in something last minute, fabricated. Or perhaps Sao was being tested. He hoped the test would not involve him in the stack of financial incidents. Math wasn’t his strong suit. Though again, timelines considered, wouldn’t Rai be the one who’d take the fall if Sao’s assignments went hairy?

Don’t worry yourself into a panic. What’s the point?

Sao covered his mouth stretched out a dusty yawn. As he did, a vigorous gargling came echoing from the hall.

Rai snapped to attention. “The coffee,” he said intently, eyes fixed on the empty doorway. For a moment Sao thought he was going to dive clear over the desk, but instead Rai wrestled his attention back to the computer. “Almost done… install what?”

So coordinating the life-or-death printer for his colleague took priority over coffee, but as Sao watched him clatter at the keyboard, he saw a change. That focus was teetering. Sao again felt a wave of amusement.

“Why don’t I’ll go get it? Coffee’s best when it’s hot,” he said.

Rai was giving him a look, but the accusatory glare had dimmed. Yes, he could use some coffee. Sao gave him a few moments and then came what was somehow most bizarre thing he’d seen in Rai so far, a genuine grin, almost of disbelief.

“Not used to having that kind of offer. But that would be perfect.”

“Well then. Just across the hall?”

“Yeah.” Rai’s focus settled on the computer again. ”Thank you.”

"You take milk with your coffee?"

"Bring it all."

Sao smiled. Some office habits weren’t so bad.

---

Sao crossed a few creaky floorboards to the miniature kitchen. On the counter sat three coffee makers of different models and mechanisms. The one gargling away happily was the oldest of the bunch, the glass pot fogged with age. He removed it, three cups from the rack, one for milk from the fridge (there was nothing else in there) and the jar of sugar sitting behind the machines. He took a look around, found a colander, chopping board, but no proper tray. Three trips to bring it all back to the office.

On the first trip he took note of the bathroom. A bachelor’s standard. No tub, towel on the floor, some flaky gray specks in the corners of tiles but nothing too far out of line. Fair, but not incredible.

On the second trip he noticed the smell had not dissipated in the least within the kitchen despite having moved the pot out, in fact the aroma had gotten ever more pungent. Cracking open the lid of trash can solved that mystery. There appeared to be a knee-high pile of dirt sitting at the bottom of the white plastic lining. A solid brick of it, black, brown with flecks of pasty off-white. But as he dropped the used filter into the depths, he realized the substance was actually a nearly-foot-tall stack of crusted, used coffee filters.

Holding his breath, he set the lid down, and made completely sure it was down flat for sealing, and opened a window.

Third trip. Fingers looped through mug handles, he took a short detour to the end of the hallway, the room furthest from the office. The door was wide open.

The office had been converted from a full flat, so here indeed was the bedroom, recently visited and not-so recently cleaned up, much like the other rooms. A lump of clothes and a dark jacket were slung on a lonely swivel chair. A pair of slacks had fallen to the floor and were being crimped painfully under the wheel of the chair. Sao considered picking it up, but moving laundry around unprompted, the day you met someone no less, would lower the professionalism a little too far. He was already nosing.

Detached laptop wires and a lamp with a bent neck were slumped beside the bed. Again, nothing out of the ordinary, at least individually.

In corner of the room was a bed, the end of which sat in white triangle of light streaming in from the low window. Nested amongst sagging laundry and free-flowing wires, the bed was conspicuously made, sheets tucked neatly into the sides like in a hotel. A smooth block in a rocky plain of unwashed clothes and haphazard props. Strange, but somehow, it was satisfying. If his supervisor was housing any small eccentricity, at least it was a motion of neatness.

Sao turned back to his delivery. He passed the bathroom and the (still pungent) kitchen on his return to the office.

By the time he had set up the cups and their fixings, Rai was sitting expectantly at his own desk, monitors whirring, a blank document open onscreen and printouts primed just below. Rai slowly looked over the menagerie set before him, the bubbling coffee and then all his options, and sniffed. “I think HQ has sent me someone a little overqualified.”

Sao laughed and raised the pot. “You take sugar as well? I'll add it in first...”

“I’ll help myself, thanks.” Those eyes went over the cups once again. “Damn, really.”

“No problem.” Sao poured out a cup of his own. The brew was strong, so he’d be heavy on the extras. But he usually was, anyway. Maybe he’d bring some tea in.

Rai was inspecting some tasks on his monitor, the stack of paper on his desk untouched.

“So, getting started on that five-in-one…?”

Rai’s eyes flipped onto him like headlights.

“If you need my assistance, anything at all, just let me know.”

Rai nodded. “Sure.” Another look at the steaming pot at the end of the desk. “Thanks again.”

The stack of papers continued to wait in their patient, solid mass. Sao smiled and shrugged. Alright then. All yours.

Sao settled with his cup at the desk in the corner, by the window. He wondered if Rai were the kind to be particular about his coffee-making process. The setup had ostensibly been a tad overboard. This wasn’t high tea, it wasn't even the right time of day. Sao sipped. But the effort wasn’t a waste, even if the ingredients went untouched. You could learn a lot with so many delicate pieces in place.

Once Rai was convinced that his new staffer was occupied, Sao saw, in the corner of his eye, Rai pour a mug up to the brim and drink it down, in its entirety, in a single gulp. For thirty seconds he held the cup up, scarcely breathing. He then refilled, and after some back and forth, discreetly deposited half the sugar into the still-steaming cup by raising the sugar bowl and upending it. He stirred the concoction and, satisfied he wasn’t about to be confronted, turned to the screen and stack of paper in front of him.

Sao blinked slowly. Then he set his eyes to his own screen and began the day, the first of his new life.

---

A little over two hours later, Sao sat back to rub his eyes and stretch. There was quite a bit of eye strain involved in this new life of his and considerably less delightful distraction than there had been at the city headquarters. Back in Central Headquarters there was an open floorplan to facilitate talk, an easy walk to the convenience store, a shared video a cubicle away, a game of makeshift darts (that had only been allowed to happen once), the people, the life. Here in this old building with its dusty sunlit boards and yellowed paint, and the peaceful hum of faraway motors – it was not unpleasant, but his eyes were ready to close there and then.

He took a look at the one possible distraction he had at his disposal now: Rai at work. His supervisor, coffee drained, had plunged straight into his task. Respectable sure enough, not the finest of manners towards his newcomer, but since he had been pressed with several days of work to do in less than one, Sao could give him a break. Since morning Rai had barely moved from his seat. He sat poised like a hawk, black pen looming beak-like over what was now two stacks of paper. His stare was so grim and unfaltering that he might have been trying to burn a hole into the desk.

Just considering him was a draining experience. Then, as though the same thought had hit him at the exact same time, Rai abruptly sighed, rolled the pen over in his gloved hand once, and turned the topmost sheet of paper over.

Sao’s attention returned to his screen before Rai glanced in his direction.

According to his sparse records (and some of Sao’s more personal sources), Rai was a senior of the force, though he did not appear much older than Sao himself. As a senior he had not seemed surprised by the weighty task tossed his way, nor had he been particularly concerned about professionally greeting his new employee. He was not a senior in the manner of the tenured detectives, but still someone who didn’t have to fear for his job, it seemed.

So presumably he wasn’t being punished with this impossible report. No, he took a five-day-read in stride: signs were pointing instead to a deadly workaholic.

Sao sighed and flipped through the scanned images before him, his own assignment. There was beautiful handwriting on this one. The notary must have been formally trained, but when Sao’s work was done nobody would ever be able to appreciate those immaculate loops and curls again.

He managed to move his transcription a page or two further before his eyes started to close again.

“If you want-”

Sao snapped to attention. The chair clicked against the ground as he did – he had been leaning precariously. Rai was eyeing him, less viciously than he had been the reports of his desk, but not brimming with praise.

“If you want,” Rai repeated slowly, as if considering some less kind offers, “You can grab some lunch. It’s better to go early, you wouldn’t think there were so many people crammed into these buildings, but lunch rush can be a huge pain.”

“Well then, early lunch. That sounds like a plan. Options, what do we have?”

“There are a couple places on this street. Some are alright.”

“Some?”

“You can tell because of the lines.”

“Ah, but I’m headed out early to avoid the lines.”

Rai rolled the pen over his thumb and frowned. Sao brushed the thought away.

“I’m sure I’ll dig something up. I’ve always been able to find food I like, though that might say more about my taste than the actual culinary options of any place I’ve been.” Sao stood, stretched, and gazed out the window, walked slowly to the door. Adjusted his jacket. Just to be courteous, he always waited. But sure enough. Rai did not jump to join. “You're alright?”

“I’ll be - I’ll head out later. I have… this going on today.” Rai tapped the taller of the stacks before him.

“Of course. Anything I can pick up for you?”

Another fixed look.

Sao straightened his sleeves. “I'm feeling something heavy today, didn't have much for dinner last night. Any good place for a burger? Steaks?”

“Not for the prices they charge around here.”

“That’s a shame. Fish? A good fillet, maybe?”

“Some places.”

“You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

Rai shook his head. There was no irritation but no will to elaborate, like a trained robot. Sao sagged his shoulder against the doorway. A man who’s been working for years on impossible reports, at a place where I can't keep my eyes open. He's been shaped. Pulling him out of alignment would take forever. And then he’d have to bend back into place.

“How about a surprise, then?”

Rai let out a simple 'Hm,' but did not spare much thought on this.

Sao beamed at him kindly. “I’ll give you a call when I see something.”

---

He was halfway down the street before he realized he may have forgotten his phone, but it didn’t bother him much. It was such a fine day, and as promised, there was plenty of elbow room during the pre-lunchtime hours. Sun flickering through the trees wrapped in their wire supports, even the voice of a bird or two, now that was rare in the city. Of course, some (especially among the city-born clerks at the office) considered the old South side area not part of the city proper, but the crammed-together housing and occasional barred window hinted at the volumes of people and businesses that you wouldn’t find anywhere but a city.

And the officers would laugh and call him a country bumpkin. He’d laugh too.

And then they would all go out for lunch. That’s right, the matter at hand. Two meals, no recommendations, no preferences. All tasks sounded amazing or awful if you phrased them as absolutes, but really when it got down to the specifics, he wasn’t too worried. He could have continued discussions, but Rai seemed deeply, and deservedly, engrossed in his work of the day - food wasn’t weighting much on his mind and neither was quick conversation. It would have been a two-way struggle, best leave it up to exploration. And besides, now that he was out in the sun, stretching his legs and airing out ideas, Sao had something of a plan forming already. He wouldn’t have to go far, in fact, the closer the better.

---

“Afternoon, table for--?”

“Hoping to get something to take away, if possible.” He smiled into the dim interior, not seeing much - stepping out of the sun had done a number on his already-tired eyes.

A laminated menu was slid into his hands, and he nodded gratefully in their general direction. “Thank you very much.”

As the sunspots cleared, he saw more dark wood panels, matching counters and square booths of the same rich chocolate tone. Behind the counter, a range of jewel toned bottles, and a slender red-haired attendant, who must have been the one who had handed him the menu. She was placing glass cups into a rather complicated rack. There were no customers other than himself. He was early. That, and it seemed more of a bar than a restaurant.

The attendant yawned, then peeked guiltily at him, hand over mouth. She must have been bored, looking at the same drowsy sun that he had, without an oddity such as Rai for distraction.

“Don’t mind if I take a while,” he said, “This is my first time here.”

“No, no, no rush at all. Do I look like I’m rushing off anywhere?” She laughed.

He liked her already.

So he took his sweet time, read it through languidly, start to finish. An old habit, perhaps exacerbated by his line of work. Up top: salads, soups, antipasti, then the central page a display of entres and tucked into the bottom were desserts and further supplment. The menu was lurid with descriptors, the meats were slow cooked, prime cut, signature spiced, richly garnished, the vegetables crisp and fresh, all steamed, dressed, sauteed and slathered together in harmony. But Rai had been right about prices.

The waitress might have caught his gradually deepening stare into the menu. “So, do you work for the big C?”

“Hm?”

“The Chimera sub-office, up the street. Sorry, almost all the new faces we’ve seen are from over there. They’re always the snappiest dressers.”

Sao smiled back. He had dressed for a proper first day at work, though it seemed that the day did not call for it after all. “Afraid not. That company’s a little beyond my skill set, though I could do with their kind of pay. Quite flattering to hear I’m dressed the part.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I guess I don’t really know much about what they do.” She laughed, not too shaken, he was glad to note.

“My landlord knows something about the company, actually. He works there, or has a deal or some such. Security. Surveillance, privacy, technology, that's just the major branches. They're really all over. He likes to say they're always watching. Chimera has eyes all over the city. They do run the national camera network, but he doubts I have anything worth seeing. He likely says that to me because I’m his renter – but who knows?”

The waitresses eyes automatically went up the security camera sitting in the back corner of the dining room. Sao’s eye followed and he gave a small wave.

“You think that’s true? Even a little?”

“What do your well-dressed customers say?”

“I... You’re really not from the company, right? Don’t tell your friend, but I get the impression they aren't really doing anything so thrilling – I know I wouldn't be able to stop talking about it. Of course, they could be forced to hide it, company secrets and all.”

“They’re well trained, then. Unlike a certain friend of mine. But hello, if he’s watching, maybe he’ll take some pity on me and hold off the rent hike. So I can afford one of your amazing steaks.”

He turned the menu towards the camera and the waitress choked on a quick burst of laughter. He gave her a moment to straighten out so as not to upturn the rack of glass cups. When she was done, she removed two of the cups and poured them each a glass from he iced jug.

“Is this alright?” Sao ask.

“You want something else?”

“No need. And you’re alright?”

She shook off the question. “That’s right, that’s right, what was I going to say -- where are you from, then? For work! Where you work, I mean, we have discounts for some of the local companies, it’s up to half off. Most of the restaurants around here do the same. I can give you a list, if you’ve got a work card.”

“No kidding? I haven’t heard. Oh, but come to think of it, my boss was griping about prices, so there probably isn’t such thing for us.” He had some water. “It’s not much of a company. You could call it a government agency.”

“So, another tower of secrets.”

“I’ll have to clarify with the boss exactly how secretive I have to be.” He rolled the ice cubes around in his glass. “But I can say for sure it’s less glamorous than what’s going on at Chimera. Just a lot of old papers.”

“Old papers,” she echoed, then brightened. “You wouldn’t happen to know that investigator, the one who lives, like, three - four blocks over? Kinda intense face, red eyes, you’d remember if you saw him.”

Out of the blue, she'd got it.

Sao laughed lightly, tapping the glass down in defeat. “Cover blown! Yes, I’m part of his office now, just a meager paper pusher. There goes all my mystique. Guess I should introduce myself, then, I’m Sao.”

“Zen.”

”Afternoon, Zen. So, how did you make that connection, though? This red-eyed detective comes here often?”

She smiled bashfully, red as her hair now. “Lives nearby, I think he said? He’s been by enough times for me to get the gist of what he does, though I didn’t know he had anyone working for him.”

“I'm a recent addition to the office. So recent I’ll bet you know more about him than I do.”

“I don't know much. He used to bring piles and piles of papers and notes and things and hang around for hours, I think this was back when his office was under construction. I’ve never seen anyone stare at one thing so long. Or consume so much coffee in one sitting.”

“He does have an impressive collection of coffee makers.”

“So he replaced us! He did always complain about prices. And...” She drew a menu out halfway from behind the register, finger hovering in the upper corner for the name. “And he couldn’t help but order the same thing every day, it was always the--”

The door creaked. A small group tumbled in, a conversation rumbling away. Professional as anything, Zen went right into service mode, excusing herself to seat the newcomers. The party of five planted themselves into a booth and without a moment’s hesitation, made their order.

Like Rai, they were regulars. Like Rai, eh? Sao turned his attention back to the menu.

Zen returned to him before sending the rapid-fire orders off to the kitchen. Sao prodded a finger at menu item 1C.

“Was this what he always ordered?”

She inspected his choice, and again, let out a small peal of laughter. “Sure is. And you said you don’t know the guy.”

“Just met him, actually. But you know, they say I’ve got good intuition.”

“I can tell.”

“He’s busy, so I’ll take one of those for him, to go. And, ah, how about one of these. For me.”

She made a few deft notes onto a pad of paper. “Different strokes for different folks, eh?”

Sao just smiled back as another crowd, heading up the lunch rush, made its way through the door.

---

Sao was quite pleased with himself when he set the brown paper bags down Rai’s desk in the office. Rai was about halfway through his stack of reports and was currently annotating a minute table of figures in his own taut, jagged handwriting.

He adjusted his gloves and sat back flat against his creaking chair. Sao removed lunch from its wrappings. One tall, wheat bread sandwich, packed with tomato, lettuce, onions, roast beef with sauces, pinned down with a sparkling toothpick. And one salad, garnished anemically (it felt awful to criticize the place after an otherwise excellent service) with some white chicken and thinly sliced cheese.

Rai looked narrow-eyed from one to the other and said “I'm seen some artistic contrast.”

“I forgot my phone, so I thought I’d try for variety.”

“Hah. Clever.” Rai reached out his leather bound hand and pulled the salad bowl towards him. “Or a hell of a lucky guess. This is what I always get from the bar down the road.”

“You don’t say. I have been told that I have good--”

“Intuition. Yeah, that's come down the grapevine.” Rai pulled the rippled plastic lid off his lettuce, and cracked open the small pot of dressing. “Intuition, huh. Can you tell what I’m thinking right now?”

“That gloves are getting in the way of your lunch.”

A brow raised at that. Sao raised a hand sheepishly. “If it’s on account of me, really, don’t worry. I don’t do handshakes, sure, but it’s just the touching that gets to me. I’m not going to faint at the sight of a hand. And, er, I’d hate to think I’m getting in the way of your work method.”

Rai was giving him a look Sao was getting the feeling he’d have to get used to. The unimpressed half-smile. A little self pity in there, and a little condescension -bordering a sneer. Would you even call that a friendly gesture anymore? Now, that might be unfair, it could be that his face just didn’t--

“And I’d definitely hate it if my silly impulses ended up ruining someone’s lunch.” Sao began to unwrap his sandwich.

“I think I’ll keep them on for now.” Rai made no move to take off his gloves, and he did not detach his gaze. “And jokes aside, I’m interested in this “good intuition”. Intuition can’t be explained. Once there’s an explanation, a chain in any way that shows one point led to another, then it was just observation. Inference. Nothing special. The proof exists in a place on a plane that everyone can see, though they might not be looking for it yet.” He tossed the salad harshly as he had handled his pen and highlighter. “Even when there isn’t an explanation, then there’s still a thin line between intuition and luck. One of those doesn’t get you any credit, the lucky guesser did not see the way themselves, instead they just landed on that road. True intuition is somewhere in between. For that same reason, real intuition is rare. Unexplainable but controlled.”

“Hah, I suppose I’ve been using the word incorrectly then.”

“Or maybe not.”

For an uncomfortable moment, Sao found himself unable to respond. He was not sure what sort of comeback would be fitting. Retaliation, not a good idea to someone with a face like that, talking with such vigor over something that had just blown over his head. But agreement seemed like a trap.

So he just smiled.

Rai stared into the space behind Sao for a good few seconds, then started to dig into his salad, his thick gloves engulfing the plastic fork. “Do you believe in telepathy? Psychic abilities?”

Sao released his held breath in a short chuckle. “Is that why you asked if I knew what you were thinking? No, that’s too much. If there are superhumans out there, I’m not one of them. I’m more on the lucky side, like you said.”

“No,” Rai said flatly, “You’re on the other side of the spectrum. You’re observant.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

”That just designates me normal, does it not?”

“If only that were true,” Rai groaned. “In fact, what we do, what the police need, is exactly more of that. You can’t crack a case, throw someone in jail or slap with them with a fine over just a feeling or coincidence. Intuition, whatever it really is, can guide you in the right direction, but in the end it’s the practical pieces that matter. Of course, if studies could quantify intuition one day, cut out the middleman, that would be a different story...”

“And it wouldn’t be special anymore.”

“Should we let a handful of people get to feel special, or should we try to use all the powers at hand to perhaps clamp down on murder and mayhem? Hell, what am I saying. If superhuman hidden abilities exist, they would end up being used for money, like every other power in the world.” Rai shook his head then re-affixed that uncomfortable grin. “So, tell me. Did you just ask the waitress about my usual order?”

Sao smiled through the cottony crumbs of his sandwich. He made Rai wait until he finished. “Now that I think about it, the young lady did call you a detective. I thought she was just talking about your license but people don’t call all police personnel ‘detectives’ these days, do they?”

“Hey, hey. That’s not an answer.”

Rai was bristling, but still grinning sharply. His dark-rimmed red eyes were lit with a faint, manic spark. Sao leaned back on his chair. “Let me have a little credit. She did say that you used to be a regular, and that you always ordered the same thing, but I got the rest myself.”

“Enlighten me.”

Where to start? Sao paused. In truth, it was hardly a clear-cut path, more a pile of incidents that really only made sense in the end. This was why he stuck to transcripts. Essay-style construction was so difficult and dull. But unlike Zen, Rai did not seem like he’d happily accept a mysterious wink and nudge. Typical of an auditor.

“The reason I went in there in the first place, well, that was because it was nearby. You’re often busy, lucky you live so close to a restaurant.” A curt gesture at that fatal stack of papers. “And in addition to all that, it seemed like a pleasant place. So I headed in, and sure enough...”

“Sure enough. I used to work out of there a lot.”

“During your office renovation, if I recall the conversation. Nice girl, the waitress there. We got quite friendly - I might be able to get us a discount.”

A dull glare.

“Legally, of course. Have my first-day impressions been that bad? No, she mentioned work cards and such. Prices came up, you were right about the burgers. Outrageous. But that wasn’t your usual order, according to her. You always got the same thing, and it was right here… she took out a menu and…” He raised his finger up to punctuate then quickly dropped it. “And that’s when the lunch rush began, and that was all I got.”

Rai was silent. Sao was hit with a wave of embarrassment. “It sounds dramatic when I say it aloud. But that’s the truth.”

“And then...”

The foolishness of his pantomime went ignored. Silently thanking Rai for small mercies, Sao smiled and folded his arms. “Do you know what the menu looks like?”

“The menu…? If they haven’t changed, which I doubt they have.” Rai’s eyes loosened on him for a moment, focused on the far wall. “Plastic card, reddish border, metal corners. Appetizers on top, bread basket, 50, soup, carrot, tomato, corn, potato, I think, 60-70, salad, tuna, 65, chicken 70-”

“That’s it! That’s all, I didn’t even remember as much.” Sao laughed. “In any case, she only pulled out the upper half of the menu. So, something from that section. All I had to do from there was guess, and from what I heard from you, I figured it out.”

“Yeah?”

Sao ran his hand through his napkin. Now here was the most difficult part. The silliest. “Before I headed out, I asked about steaks. Burgers, probably something like that. I don’t remember the words...”

“Burgers, steak, last one was fish. So that speech was on purpose.”

“Not exactly. I figured that’s what I asked because at the main office, that’s what everyone wanted to hear. We were always up for burgers, at lightest we’d grab a fish fillet. But your response…” Sao shrugged. “Remarkably controlled for such a topic. But looking at the menu, I hit me that you might not be into meat. And then there’s your kitchen. Other than coffee, I didn’t see much. But it was clean. The fridge is sparse at the moment, but you do have milk, so you’re not the type to let things just sit in there past expiry. So you probably only get things fresh, or with short shelf life.”

Rai nodded.

“So I took a leap and made the order. Okay, I did cross-check my guess with the waitress. So I suppose it would have worked out in the end anyhow.”

“A couple stretches of imagination, but I get it.” Rai tore through a large leaf of lettuce and drummed his fork on the edge of his foil container. “So you’re a good listener.”

“That concludes your case?”

“And there was more in the fridge, but I got rid of it before my new hire arrived.” Rai turned full attention to his salad. “I’m impressed. I did not realize I had said so much.”

“Ah, but it’s not the quantity of what's said, but the quality.”

“More important is the one listening.”

“Well thank you, I think. I used to do transcripts for interviews, from recordings, so I gather what's spoken and how fairly fast.”

“Yeah? That’s cool.”

“Overzealous cataloging has broken a few friendships, I'll say.”

“They don’t know how useful it can be.”

Rai was well into his meal now, crunching ominously, and making glances every few seconds at the reports he had yet to finish. Silly little lunchtime mystery solved and shelved, the real work was set to resume. A limp end, but Sao was still pleased with the response to his ramble, and remarkable lack of offense Rai had taken.

Sao pushed his chair back to the desk, balled up the plastic wrap and napkin from his sandwich and headed to the kitchen. He was still floating on a moderate high such that he carelessly swung the lid of the trash can up, and was blasted with the compressed stench of used coffee filters.

He hurried to close it again, then let his head hang out the window for a few moments. Inhaled the fresh autumn breeze. The spirit of change heavy in the air soothed him. He turned back to the trash can, innocent with its cover in place.

A fridge that had just been cleared. Surely the trash would have been taken out then, the bag certainly did seem empty - save for what seemed like a week's worth of grinds. Sao considered the reasoning. He reconsidered the smell. That was when he let the matter drop.

His supervisor was an enigma indeed.

---

Sao stepped into the foyer, which was now wrung with the dim yellow of old bulbs, struggling to brighten a room when the sun was not there to aid it. In one hand he had the very securely tied bag of kitchen trash. It didn’t seem too imposing to remove it, perhaps he would have even been asked to do so, had Rai not been so deeply sunk into his work.

Rai had not shifted from his seat for the latter half of the day except to turn on the office lights once daylight began to seep away. Sao had been jolted for a moment when he did. Loudly clapping his shoes to the floor, Rai walked to the wall without a word to his first-day employee, pounded the switch like it had insulted him personally, then returned to his desk and flopped back down in an equally testy manner.

Judging from the rapid-fire keyboard clatter, he had finished his initial reading of the files and had begun typing up the report, hunched over the desk, gloves skittering wildly between papers and keyboard, red eyes attacking what lay on his screen.

The problem was, he’d only started less than an hour ago. With approximately two minutes left of the official work day, his cards read overtime.

Sao bit his lip and slid up to the door where he could see Rai's work.

“How’s the report?”

Rai shrugged, something Sao was somewhat surprised by; he looked tense enough to snap, but nothing more came.

“Would you like some more coffee or anything before I go?”

Rai’s near bug-eyed glare spared him a second of consideration. Sao levelled a smile, and Rai shook his head. Slow at first then faster. It was like seeing an engine get fired back up after a sudden break. “No, I’ll help myself,” and he turned away.

“All right then.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” Sao hitched up the trash bag beside him. “Don’t work too hard.”

He internally kicked himself after that. Giving orders to the boss just hours after meeting? And telling him not to work when there was clearly something to be done?

Rai must have been thinking the same thing. He froze at the keys once again. Unable to help himself, Sao froze too. But Rai did not even look at him this time. His eyes remained on the sentence he had half-typed and that unpleasant smile crawled back on his face.

“You still thinking about this report?”

“A little, I’ll admit. Like I said, if there’s anything I can do...”

“It’s due in a pretty unreasonable time frame, isn’t it?”

Sao hoped he was maintaining his spirited look as the prospect of volunteered overtime began to sink in.

Rai’s eyes dropped to his hands. “It would be unfair if you had to stay in late on your first day.” He shook his head and the trance was broken. “No worries. It was sent to me, so it’ll get done. And done right.”

“I’ll have to let the office guys know they owe you one.”

“They know.” Rai waved one gloved hand absently. “See you tomorrow.”

Clattering began again.

In the front hall, Sao exhaled deeply. The sky was not fully dark yet, they were simply in the late stages of sunset. He couldn’t wait to get home and have a long lie down. Perhaps he should drop by Zen’s bar for a spell before then, pick something up to eat, ease up a little after a rough day under a brutal new supervisor.

That was unfair. He had known approximately what he had been signed up for, and in several ways Rai was preferable to a good number of clerks at the main office. Perhaps not more than half. Or a quarter, but a number no less. Better than a good number of supervisors too, with a better ratio in that department.

It was early to make assumptions, and Rai hadn’t been open to chat for much of the day, but Sao still had some faith in his intuition.

Whatever intuition was.

Lord, it was too late to be thinking about that sort of thing now. Sao yawned, crossed the creaking floorboards, gave the articles on the corkboard a peek of appreciation, and opened the door.

---

“Morning, Rai.”

Radiant once again in the golden-white sunlight, the hall stood waiting, bench and board just as he remembered it. The door had been unlocked. presumably Rai was already up and running full steam into the workday as there was a faint tremor of voices from the office. He did not answer Sao’s morning greeting.

Sao strolled into the office and was nearly bowled over by a wave of acrid coffee-scented mist and an abrupt, bloodcurdling scream exploding from the desktop. There was a flash of red light, then ice-blue in the corner of his vision.

He backed out of the door, took a moment to wipe his watering eyes and re-entered.

Rai leaned over a blackened mug on his desk to adjust the sound system with one gloved hand. With the other he was rapidly hammering away at the computer mouse. On his screen, the blood-splattered face of a rather nasty looking figure leered down, and a jittery stream of dialogue slowly dissipated down to a faint background buzz. No don’t I’ll do anything what do you want what do you want just stop this please-- Rai hit pause on the video just before the onscreen villain took another swing with his hatchet.

Sao peered over his shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, more than okay, even. Just finishing something from last night. Didn’t scare you, did it?”

Was there a little smug hope in that line? Sao laughed. “Can’t lie, not exactly my choice of movie.”

“Fair enough. Let me get my headphones.”

Rai pulled open one of the desk drawers and began swimming through the debris. Sao tilted his head at the screen.

“What's this? A ghost story or two, we can be friends, but axe murders, blood and guts flying? I'm an absolute chicken. There’s a reason I'm confined to desk work.”

“Hah. That’s not a bad way to be, though. The opposite isn’t much to to brag about.” Rai wrestled out some headphones at last, then stretched lengthily and slouched back into his chair, gloved hands folded. “Ghosts, huh?”

Sao maintained his casual smile and watched Rai mull over this apparently fascinating subject. He looked as committed to dredging his memory for ghosts as he did his real, imminent work.

The stack of papers from the previous day were clamped together and resting at the far edge of the desk. Rai caught him staring and hopped to attention.

“Man, what am I doing? I should apologize for not giving proper introductions yesterday, because of that, you know, thing. Bad timing to get a killer assignment when I'm supposed to be running orientation, or whatever they call it. But now that it’s out of the way, let me know, are there any questions? The workstation doing alright? How do you like the office?”

“It’s fantastic, no complaints. I've always liked these old wood interiors more than the white concrete you always see in the government buildings. I'm a bit traditional - it suits detective work. Even if we only touch the paperwork.”

Rai seemed to give this some thought. Or rather, he was studying Sao’s expression. It was a variation of the same glare he’d been shooting around the other day. But less compressed, a broader view, like he had relaxed. Like he had all the time in the world. It was even more unnerving considering he had a deadline to make.

Sao coughed and Rai broke his all-consuming stare. “Uhh, want to open a window?” Rai asked. “It gets a little muggy in here.”

Sao agreed as naturally as he could but it took some effort not to make a mad sprint to the window. The welcome fresh air send him slumping against the sill trying to regain his senses. When he turned around he saw Rai had rushed all the dishes to the kitchen and was now looking to stow the pile of now defunct annotated papers.

He evidently had a ritual. Sao watched as Rai lifted, tapped the sheets twice on their edge, then flattened the pile against the desk with a hard smack on the solid wooden edge. There was an explosive crack, not papery in the least, more like some sort of unearthly firearm. Sao thought he saw birds fleeing the trees all the way up and down the street. His ears rang.

A sound of finality. Case closed. So he thought.

Rai inspected the pile for stray sheets and poised to crack the dissatisfactory result against the table again. Sao quickly interrupted, “So! That report, it’s all done?”

“Of course.”

“You covered all five.”

“Yeah, it’s all there.”

“You’re joking. That was incredibly fast.”

“They wouldn’t have sent it if it wasn’t going to get done. Want to see? Got a couple of drafts here. I’m… not sure… they’re in order. Oh well. The final report got sent off to the courier so it isn’t here, but not a lot changed between that and the… third draft, I think. Not enough time to make changes, anyhow.”

He offered the stack of papers. Sao felt as if he were being roped into some sort of trick. Is he showing off? He can't be done.

He took the papers and went through them smoothly. There were indeed ‘a couple’ of drafts, each one noted in critical red, Rai’s own writing pitted against itself. Sao smiled absently. As far as he knew, nobody at the old office had ever so much as vaguely drafted anything on their own time. You were lucky to get two passes even with a supervisor. There just wasn’t time. And even if there was...

Rai took a look out the window. A truck rumbled by. “Disappointing, huh?”

“Not at all. I mean, for just one night’s work, the office had better be grateful.”

Rai’s face twitched for a moment, then he choked out a laugh. “I’ve been staring at the damn thing so long, the literary quality is undoubtedly garbage. But what I’m talking about it is the conclusion. My verdict...” A new cup of coffee had somehow materialized in his hands. “It’s not gonna be what they want to see.”

“You mean, no breakthrough…?”

“The five cases weren’t linked. Timelines, numbers people, they don’t match up, they don’t prove anything about one another. That’s about it. Sure, there’s a lot of money going around, but no greater conspiracy. No mastermind. Nothing exciting.”

“Ah, well. Case reviews aren’t written to sell as thrillers.”

“You’re a reasonable guy, huh?”

Sao smiled politely and set the papers down neatly - and quietly - on the desk.

Disregarding his delicacy completely, Rai slammed down his mug with vigor. “And you’re exactly right. There’s always a chance of getting something you didn’t want to hear. The detectives, the higher ups, whoever’s requesting these things should know that. Of course they know. But they don’t want it. What they want is to be the hero in that theoretical thriller. If they don’t get what they want, in other words if they are wrong, if I tell them that, and that means the villain has won. Even if there wasn’t a villain or plot to begin with. These aren’t even yes-no 50/50 sorts of cases, even if you look at them like that, expecting five apparently unrelated cases to match up? The chance of a ‘yes, make the arrest, save all the money’ -- it’s not even close to 50%.”

“You’ve seen a lot of these, then.”

“Oh yeah. The hopes and dreams get crazier and crazier every year. Huge leaps hoping for one of those big news stories. God. Just because the LF movement took off doesn’t mean anything and everything...” Rai ran his gloves over his forehead and ended there.

Sao pressed a hand to the papers. “I’m no detective but I can see an upside to this case, at least, it would be if I were a detective.”

“Is that so.”

“How fun can arrests be? For cops or the ones they chase? With this,” he tapped the stack. “No need for anyone to risk life and limb on a null result. No media roundabout, no chance of 'excess force' or imperfect handling on the field.”

He thought he heard Rai snort. “Like I said. You’re a little too reasonable to be making the decisions in this line of work.”

“Sorry?”

Rai slouched back in his chair and glared. Though by now, Sao was pretty sure it was just his natural expression. He even looked a little more morose than before. “I got sent that request with one night to the deadline. Ten years of records, for a money case, framed as some big emergency. That screams personal involvement. There’s no way the sender has that kind of relaxed - no, logical - mentality. You know, I’m probably going to start getting calls to complain soon.”

“No way. Would anyone really see the need?”

“We’ll see.”

“I can’t imagine the excuses.”

“Intuition. As if all these crazy magic revolutions mean everyone’s got hidden magical powers just waiting to be recognized. If only. The reality is, if crime goes full magic one day, the force won't be enjoying all the new exciting possibilities. Most of us will get left in the dust.”

Sao didn’t say anything for a while. They regarded the fictional killer frozen on the monitor, taking a fictional blow at a fictional victim.

Rai broke the silence first. Perhaps he felt guilty. “But when you think of it like that, I guess you're compelled to pick fights while you can. I’m just sick of getting these kinds of reports.”

Then, as if the morning had not been front loaded with enough noise, Rai’s phone began howling wildly with the sound of a police siren, layered over what what sounded like a car horn and possibly a rooster. He swiped it up and hit mute.

“That’s my alarm. Half past. Finally!” Sao stepped back as Rai launched out of his seat. “Places are open now, I’m starving, I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday’s… well, a while. Going to run out and get something to eat before the good stuff is taken. Want anything?”

A far cry from last night. Standing up straight, away from his desk now, Sao could see Rai had not changed clothes from the day before. He was disheveled in a way that sagged - not a form that had just risen from a stint in bed, but one who had not been to bed at all. And strangely enough, had no intention of heading there anytime soon. Rai rattled his pockets for his belongings and looked at Sao expectantly. The bags under his eyes may as well have been inked in, but his eyes themselves were on full alert.

Sao shook his head. “Nothing for me, thanks. I should really get started on today’s write-ups.”

“Right. And that means I have someone to hold down fort for me now. Good, then, no worries. I’ll be right back.” Rai strode to the door with the energy of someone who had not just been disappointed by a night of paperwork. He sprang like an excited child with each step. Off to market, I haven’t slept in 30 hours but happy day. Sao could have applauded.

Rai had yanked his coat off the rack when he paused at the door, leaning back to inspect the wall.

“Something wrong?”

Rai looked up, down, and finally hit the light switch. Lights off. “I always forget about this.”

Sao tilted his head. “Didn’t realize it was on.”

“Yeah, my bad. I just never turned ‘em off.”

“Late night?”

Again Rai stopped dead. Then, without looking back “Like any other.”

At that comment, he disappeared down the hall, and audibly hit the lightswitch in the foyer as well. His departure was punctuated with the door slamming closed: as loud as possible. The windows rattled.

Sao dropped into his swivel chair. Quite a morning. Rai was certainly more at ease, but somehow the intensity had been racked up even more, if it were to be believed. Was it cruel to hope he’d find more work to do soon?

The odor of coffee had begun to dissipate. Now that it was fading, Sao felt himself longing for a hot cup after all. Tea always seemed to improve the morning, but he should wait for Rai to return, before breaking out his stash. There seemed no reason to hurry at anything just yet. He thought he heard the birds returning tentatively over the faint whoosh of the autumn breeze and creak of wood. Still, calm, yet alive. Things as they should be.

The computer whirred to life gradually, and he wondered with some gratitude if Rai had given him this time alone on purpose. His sole strange outburst aside, Rai was reasonable enough. He hadn’t forced the handshake situation yesterday, he hadn’t been critical of Sao directly, and he seemed somewhat abashed after every bizarre topical flare-up. Everyone needed time to cool off.

Content with that, Sao stretched and sat back a little while longer. Thanks, boss.

Not ten minutes after Rai had left, the office phone began ringing angrily.

---

“Headquarters called.”

Rai threw his hands up, sending a crumbs sprinkling onto the desk. “I’ll bet they did.”

“There were indeed looking to dispute a certain review that came in this morning.” Sao pulled a small sheet from his nearby notepaper. “Told him you were busy. Detective W______’s secretary left a number.”

“Thanks. I’ll get right on it.” But Rai instead proceeded to make a ridiculously tall sandwich with some lettuce, tomatoes, foam-white cheese and an entire package of smoked salmon. He attacked his keyboard in between bites and slurps of his one-again full coffee cup. He scowled at the monitor, dug around his drawers, slammed the plastic remains of his breakfast into an additional bag, replied to another email with wrathful keystrokes, and finally resumed his movie with headphones on.

The axe came down on the now-silent movie victim.

Sao left him to it. Just looking at the incessant action made him tired. Though he had to admit, it was earned. The buzz of a completed project, especially after a high-pressure grind, always delivered a shot of extra energy. The horizon was clear, you could look up and see the light of day instead of a storm of words on the artificial glow of a monitor. The weights were off, the day was free. The massive quantity of caffeine Rai seemed to devour would be bolstering that. But once it wore down, cooled off, Rai would be ready for a well-deserved nap.

Sao suppressed a yawn and looked back to his own still-incomplete transcriptions. Yes, a nap would be nice. Time to earn one of his own.

Things didn’t go quite as planned; as one hour passed, then another, he found himself sinking further and further into the sleepy comfort of the fine autumn morning, while the seemingly endless handwritten script of his assignment remained just as long and expectant no matter how much he chipped away at it. It just didn’t want to be done. It wasn’t an impossible task, it just didn’t have urgency. It was something about the air that day.

Meanwhile, Rai finished his movie and sprang up. Watching some actors get horribly gored had given him more vigor than a full night’s sleep. He yanked open the middle drawer of a filing cabinet, pulled out a old greenish folder and leafed through it. He read through one page, intense as though his life depended on it. Then he shoved it back into its place, back into the drawer, drawer back into the cabinet.

SLAM

Rai returned to his chair, flopped down to the squeal of the wheels and hinges, and started rattling away at the keys, pausing occasionally to read. More angry correspondence with the HQ detectives? He stopped for a while, paced, walked out for a refill of coffee and returned.

Sao made the mistake of looking at the clock. Not nearly enough time had passed. Rai appeared to have accomplished a lot. Sao himself, not so much.

As if he sensed the comparison being made, Rai turned to Sao’s desk. “Anything I can help with?”

“Not much, really. I’ve just been lagging a little with this one write-up.” Sao gave the awaiting screen an apologetic wave. “I’m the one who’s new here, I should be the one providing help.”

“You offered yesterday.”

“I suppose you didn’t need it.” Sao laughed. “All but confirmed.”

“Not taking a jab at your work. I just have too much time now. You know how that is, after getting a major report out of the door, out of the way. Kinda lonely.”

“The calm after the storm.”

“... yeah.”

Those were not the eyes of a man that valued calmness and tranquility. They were looking for something, hardening up when they should probably have been getting some rest after taking an all-night beating. Well, his assignment wasn’t going anyway. Sao wheeled back for Rai to take a look.

The haunted glare hit his screen and narrowed.

“Handwriting analysis? No, you told me… you said you do transcriptions.”

“That’s right. These are old interviews; arrests surrounding a cult group circa sixty years ago. Statements from about a dozen members, a couple handwritten confessions from the men themselves. Ah- one woman.” Sao ran his hand over his hair. “These aren’t much like the requests you get. Not too much thinking. It’s just a matter of reading and re-writing what’s there, plain busywork in comparison to a true audit.”

“The hell it is. I can’t read any of this.”

“It takes a bit to get used to.”

“Who even wrote these?”

Sao managed to hide a chuckle. “The detectives, mostly. Some wrote in broken cursive, but their secretaries often had clearer print. They all wrote as per the education of the time, though rushed. On the whole, this casefile’s pretty organized. There are some that are incomprehensible.”

“And this page is…”

“A station chief. Signature’s at the end.”

Rai shook his head and took a dramatic swig of coffee. Sao longed to break out a pot of tea, but he was being stared down again.

“So you just eventually got used to reading this way.”

“In time, most can start to make out the words. There are fast learners, but I did get a head start.” Sao folded his hands on the desk. “Like the old guard, I had mandatory handwriting classes back in the day. Got slapped with a ruler if one of those loops fell out of place, went too far under the line and didn’t get corrected. Pen license and all that.”

“What?”

“Earn your public right to an inkwell or be stuck with lead and erasers like the first graders. Wallow in your shame.” He feigned a wistful sigh. “Old school tradition.”

Rai paused. “Huh. You don’t look that old. Must be the makeup.” He paused, glove half raised in a gesture to his face. Sao smiled at him expectantly, a level expression, but this time it was tough. Of all the off-hand things to call out…

It was a joke, wasn’t it?

“Huh,” Rai muttered.

For someone so adept at handing out hard stares, it seemed Rai didn’t appreciate being on the other end of the equation. Very rude. Of course it was, staring was rude regardless.

Sao sighed and shifted away from that, brushing those thoughts aside. “I’m not that close to retirement, more’s the pity. No, my school happened to be a special case, set up after some war over a century back. The place was ancient, untouched by the outside, all pressed uniforms and old women in black, very particular about even more particular things. It was very pretty, though, a mansion in the hills. Infinite grass and flowers one direction. Some enchanted woods in the other, not that we were supposed to ever go into them. Splinters, fleas, child-eating monsters, the like. Still, when you were sitting by one of those huge windows it was all the perfect picture. Like something out of a fairytale.”

“Where was this?”

“Out west, if I recall?” Sao frowned. “I haven’t run across it again, at least in my cursory searches. So perhaps my memory isn’t the best.”

“Huh.”

Was there a trace of skepticism? It was true, though. He had no recollection beyond the basic postcard-print memory; there was a blockade of fog and other unknowables somewhere between his life at the mansion and the present. What else could he dredge up? No - this could be dangerous.

“What I do remember of the school itself,” Sao laughed, “doesn’t encourage me to think further. It wasn’t fun time. Suppose it could have been worse. Anyway, what’s important is that everything we learned, aside from the very basics, were hardly suited for the world today. Much like the handwriting of our forefathers. I suppose I got lucky finding a place where it ended up being useful.”

“The police force needs people like that. I use these transcripts all the time to cross-check crap for audits. The guys who wrote these should be the ones typing them up. God knows people like me can’t do jack about it.”

“The original writers would be helpful, of course. But quite a few are dead or jailed. Or otherwise incapable. Or far too successful to bother.”

“Right. Sixty years back, huh?”

“Occasionally further.”

“So the rest of the typist staff, they were like you?”

“Ah, there was a decent variety…”

Rai bit his lip. “I mean, upper class. Private school grads.”

“Wh- me, upper class?”

Rai’s impending answer may have been insulting, and he knew it. He shrugged and slouched into his shoulders. But noticeably not retracting a single thing.

Sao sat back, nodding agreeably. “I know what you mean. The majority of the archive’s transcription crew, believe it or not, are degree holders or wealthy. They have the reading and writing training, if you could call it that, but without the seniority or experience of the detectives and elders. We worked under those who could be doing the job but don’t want to. It’s not too glamorous, a niche too small for outside regard but too deep to dig out of. Don’t tell the others, but it’s a bit of a dead end.”

“Don’t think I’ll even have a chance to talk to any of them. They’re your crowd, not mine.”

“Then I may as well just say it proud. We all knew the truth, I don’t know anyone who ever got a promotion from the menial task force. But as long as it brought in rent and food, well, there’s worse than being a sub-level clerk for the police. It actually sounds just fine with a job title like that.”

“Something to hold off mom and dad.”

Sao ran his fingers over his knuckles. “Call me lucky in that department too.”

Rai thought about this. It was a very blunt trap. He didn’t fall for it. All the better.

Rai drained his mug. “Handwriting classes, who knew.” And stretched his hands his their ever-present black gloves. “Alright then, you now know I can’t be much help with the reading part. Man, that felt stupid to say aloud. I can’t flipping read these things. But I’m open for proofs, copies, stapling, whatever.”

“Thank you.”

“I can read over things fast. And I’ve got time. Too much time, it feels like on days like today. Maybe I can help you out of the sub-level. You could be useful outside the office. And I’ve gotten my guys promotions before.”

Sao started in dim surprise. “Aren’t you…?”

“Hey, I’ve been around a while.” Rai dug one glove into his pocket and surfaced with the well-worn bronze shield insignia of the third level officers in the palm of his hand.

Sao gave it due respect.

This qualification made Rai an oddity for a paperwork drone, in fact it was wrong to label him a drone as of now. He had set out an unexpected offer, for certain. Shifting rank for a clerk was not simply difficult; it was deemed unnecessary. Third-level civilian or ‘independent investigators’ so they were called, were not monitored particularly carefully, nor hired with great prejudice, yet no matter how hard they tried, the sub-level desk jockeys were unable to jump the gap between them. They were so far apart, they were simply unrelated paths. Why give a clerk open access to the internal library and the power to barge into any house they saw fit? Even the qualified officers couldn’t always be trusted.

Done it before, could be useful. Like he was just going to tap a light switch and make it happen.

But how had he done it? By all accounts, Rai was simply a certain kind of clerk. True, he delivered on time, he did have his own office, and now an underling, and then there were rumors and Van’s good word going for him. But for Sao, now seeing the proof - real embossed metal right before his eyes - his unusual shape was starting to align. Rai wasn’t just a simple interchangeable clerk. More likely he hadn’t started as a clerk. The number of his badge - it was an early one.

It was likely he had fallen down the ladder.

Rai’s expression on this reveal: deadly serious. Did he have any other faces to show? It was the kind of look that Sao felt he had to grin at, just to restore balance.

“I must say, I haven’t heard of a supervisor hiring just to make more work for themselves.”

Rai made it clear that it was not much work either way. “The main office chose for me. I just approved. The hire, I mean.”

“Could have been a reward for your work.”

“Doubt it. I just sit in a convenient niche. And you heard what the office thinks of my ‘work’. The call this morning? I didn’t have to hear it to know how it went.”

Sao hadn’t taken a message, but he’d certainly heard the tone of the aide over the phone. The wires were strained all the way back to their boss.

“It’s more probable they didn’t want me to keep looking at other… I don’t know.” Rai looked into his cup. “Man. It never seems like enough. I should make some more coffee.”

But he lingered for a while longer, gazed at the block across the street through the open window, empty cup in one hand, badge encased in the other. Eyes wide open. Had he somehow snuck a nap in without being noticed? Sao felt a yawn coming on, but Rai did not leave him to enjoy it and remained two feet from the desk, staring skeptically into the sun reflecting off the windows across the road.

“So,” Sao said, muffling his sleepy impulse, “Where did you go to school?”

“Me? Public. All the way.” Rai fidgeted with his mug, the seams, the fringe of his gloves. He put the badge back into his pants pocket. “In terms of a parental situation, could say I’m lucky too. ‘Scuse me.”

And it was back to the kitchen for Rai. Sao returned to his transcript. Progress made, presumably? Heart-to-heart exchanges and career prospects, all in a matter of minutes. Rai ran a productive house.

And yet here he was, a simple reading task, still incomplete.

Ah, well. It had only been a few minutes...

---

Rai’s overwrought efforts to spend his free time were put to a stop when another assignment came rolling in. He spent a half hour waiting for the source documents to print and what must have been at least six hours more hunched over the desk, poring over them with his almighty judgmental stare.

Sao enjoyed another solitary lunch. Rai excused himself with the footnote that he’d eaten too late in the morning to be hungry. It was a shame, too.

“How’d you get one of these?” Zen asked as Sao passed her a Chimera Security employee card.

“I have a reliable friend.”

“Your boss man…?” she asked tentatively.

“Nope, other friend of mine. Rai, well, I don’t know if he’d even approve of being called a friend yet. What do you think? Should I get him something pricey to try to get him onto the list?”

“He’d be missing out otherwise.”

“So, what’s the most expensive variation of coffee you have?”

Zen laughed, the sun streaming in sparking off her hair like flames. Her smile persisted as she handled the register. “Wow, who is your card-holding friend?”

“His identity is confidential, for now. Don’t tell me, has he done something to the account? I never took him for a prankster.”

Zen shook her head and simply handed the blue plastic card back.

“Whoever Mr. Security Chief is, bring him around for a drink sometime. You know what, bring Rai in too. I’d love to see his face after seeing this.”

The bill came to a flat 15 total, and Sao left with his food and receipt feeling victorious. The main office would have had a field day with such savings, he’d be joyously pestered until the office closed for the night, possibly even later. But Rai was too busy drowning in papers. Another stack had sprung up beside the morning’s assignment and he was glaring into the monitors, which were both coated with online news articles. The articles glared back in angry bold type:

ENTIRE FAMILY MISSING

SURVIVOR IN HOSPITAL

TRAGEDY AT THE BORDER

The significance of Sao’s funny lunchtime tale fell flat before he’d even said anything. Instead, he set the iced coffee by Rai’s arm and simply said, “On the house.”

“Damn. Thanks.” His comments could have been directed at Sao, or his current news article.

Rai remained completely oblivious to Sao’s triumphant burger even as the rich aroma of onion and spiced mincemeat began to fill the room. Dishes were washed and wrappers were disposed of without further comment. Nearly an hour later, Sao had the small gratification of seeing Rai’s glove, like a mechanical claw, snap out at the iced coffee that was now soaked with condensation. Rai emptied the entire cup without a single breath in between. This managed to wrench his attention off the assignment at hand for just a moment. He held up the cup as if it were some perplexing artifact.

“Where did you get this?”

“I’ll show you sometime.”

So it had been good. Chocolatey artisanal Southern island beans, slow brewed, the first batch of the day, Zen had said. Powerful stuff. But not enough to change the course of this freight. Rai stopped to upturn the final contents of the cup over his throat, and then dived straight back into his papers.

It was hard to stay awake for the remaining hours. A bit of work beckoned, but not urgently. Sao took his sweet time. Sleepiness aside, it was a clear run to another fine autumn nightfall and another distracted goodbye.

---

The next day passed largely the same. Without the rush notice on whatever it is he had been assigned, Rai was taking his time, which meant his level of focus was being given much longer to rise and rise and rise without rest. He did not speak more than a grunt of welcome and vague thank-you when he was handed something. By the third day, Sao had the disquieting premonition that he was being tested. The door was unlocked - as always. He entered the front hall, news clippings shivering on the wave of air from the door, hung up his coat and tapped the lightswitch on the wall.

The office reeked of coffee and grease.

“Another long night?”

Rai swiveled. He looked absolutely haggard, yet invigorated enough to leap at the throat of anyone who dared to interrupt. Crusted coffee cup at his elbow, some oil-soaked takeout container not far off, at least he’d gotten up sometime during the night to feed himself.

There was a bit of a faceoff before Rai gathered his bearings and stood. He stretched briefly, and seemed to return to his normal state.

“Good morning,” Sao said by way of reminder.

“Morning. Lost track of time again.”

In the doorway, Sao reached aside and turned off the lights. Again.

“How long have you been at it? You must wake up incredibly early.”

Rai returned a quizzical look and made some indistinct noise.

After Rai had left for his standard mid-morning breakfast hunt, Sao took a snuck look at his desk. It was hard to resist. What had captured Rai’s attention for this long?

The wooden surface was nearly obscured by paper, folders and notebooks. Onscreen there was an article pulled from police files, which Rai had left half-read, detailing the rapidly decreasing population of a suburb by the train tracks. Sitting in the bottom of the second screen was live video of the morning news. The printed papers, though thoroughly modern, peer-reviewed and set in a clear-cut typeface, could have been produced by a sphinx for all he knew. The subject was entirely obscure. There were data tables, though this time they were clearly not referring to money.

At its most extreme, tangible physical disappearance may be attributed theoretical process of spiritual decay initiated by the remote...

Nothing about trains or neighborhoods. Rai had been unable to interpret Sao’s work. Apparently the reverse was also true.

Sao pushed the chair under the desk and looked thing over. It was intended to be a stealth inspection, but in any case he could not stand to leave the greasy containers sit and stew. So off they went, and the cup was taken to the sink along the way.

The bathroom light was on. Sao turned it off. Not much had changed. A bit of recent toothpaste or soap froth on the sink, small but reassuring.

More revealing though, was the bedroom door still half-open. The bed still fully made. Immaculately so. As if it hadn’t been touched since he’d last seen it. Perhaps even long before that.

You must wake up early, was that what he’d said?

---

It was not until the end of the week that Rai was convinced to leave the house for lunch, joining Sao at his favorite lunchtime spot. True, Rai had been too distracted to argue otherwise earlier in the day - having made calls to the office, the courier, and a shipping company, strangely enough - and by the time he was called on, he automatically rose, brainpower toiling on a level apart from where he moved.

His thoughts came back to him when he was seated at the bar with a free iced beverage, brimming with sugar-dusted foam and icy mist, courtesy of Zen’s rather noisy and dazzlingly elaborate mixer. Sweatdrops rolled down the glass, sparkling under the light falling on their windowside table, overlooking the street.

Rai was deadpan. “I didn’t order this.”

“It’s on his tab.” Zen gave him a smile and held her hand out like a presenter in Sao’s direction.

“That means it’s free,” Sao added, before Rai could vocalize any more complaints. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not paying much. Let’s just say I have a friend. The bulk is, in fact, going on his tab.”

Rai stared blankly at him for a moment then broke into a loose smirk. “I’m not going to get anyone knocking down my door at night to collect, am I?”

“Of course not. He knows where I live.”

“Sounds like a scary business.” Zen chuckled. She set out an additional tea for Sao and regaled Rai with a proud look. “So, how have you been, Mr Kir? We haven’t had you around in a while.”

“Yeah, I haven’t been by since...”

“How’s your mother?” asked a man who had appeared at the counter. One of the chefs by the looks of it, though Sao hadn’t met him before. Another man in an off-white coat appeared around the corner to spectate.

“Been real busy.” Rai said curtly. He inspected the time on the heavy square wall clock.

“Work calling you back? I should have asked before dragging you here. I won’t keep you long, then,” Sao said.

“It’s the end of the week. I wanted to catch up, with you anyway. In theory. I’m supposed to be a supervisor.” Rai tore his gaze away from the clock. “Can I ask you a favor, Zen? Can we get the TV on in here?”

“Catching a show?”

“Sort of. Just leave it on the news, thanks.”

Zen spent a few minutes fiddling with the dials - the television was old, and did not look particularly well-used. But soon enough the morning news flickered on. A news reporter in a red suit was covering some manner of crowded outdoor event.

Soon the frontrunners of the lunchtime rush began to file in. The din bouncing off the walls around table began to rise, the air gradually warming with the vibration, but stopped just short of discomfort. Sao felt drowsy, but pleasantly so; he stretched set to stirring his tea lazily. Rai was already gunning down the contents of his glass like he had been dared to finish it on a timer.

Sao sipped and looked out the window. In the reflection he saw Rai finish and was clearly ready to launch into something.

“Finally, some cooler weather,” Sao commented.

“How’s your transcription going?” Rai asked as soon as he turned around.

“I should be done today.”

“Let me have a look at it before you send it out. I’ve been thinking about the case, what you told me anyway. Cult business? Cults are really rare, practically none of them in the last couple of years. Too much competition. I know it’s an old file but you never know. The greater part of one of my reviews is reading old cases anyway.” He tried to take another drink and ended up with a mouthful of ice. “Urg.”

“Of course. Whenever you have to time, that is. Is it protocol to print it?”

Rai waved a hand dismissively. “If you want. I’m not really out to make mass corrections, especially if you’re trying to hit a deadline.”

His gloves were looking a little worse for wear. Had he removed them in the past week? Presumably to shower. One could hope.

“You’re the boss. I’d appreciate your input. That reminds me, how's yours?”

“Huh?”

As if he could really forget the calamity he’d just unwittingly left behind on his desk. Sao smiled. “What have you been working on? Looks like something complex.”

“That stack back at the office? It’s nothing. Finished up today, sent it out. Couple of... standard disappearances, looks more hopeful than the the last review but it’s still up to the detectives to decide what to do about it. We’re never short on disappearances these days, so the officers get choosy. If they’re smart they’ll… well. It’s not my call.”

“I don’t doubt you’d have it handled. You’re a real hero, I don’t think anyone works like you do.”

“Yeah.” Rai paused. He was not displeased, but evidently he had to regroup his thoughts for the situation.

“So it’s done?”

“More or less.” Rai paused to rattle the ice in his cup, as if hoping for more drink to materialize.

“I’ll go ahead and order another one.”

Rai didn’t respond to that. He appeared distracted again. “I know. You probably noticed that I still have a lot on the desk. Looks worse than a typical case, doesn’t it? But it’s just hobby work. Shout out anytime you need something. I always have too much time on my hands.”

Sao could not hold back a snicker at this.

“Funny, huh?”

“No. No - alright, I'll be frank. Your hobby looks an awful lot like your job.”

“It works the same way, but there aren’t any final reports unless I decide to do them. A lot of reading and note-taking, most of the time. Fact-checking, sometimes I gotta make a call or two. That’s when the badge comes in handy. Crap, don’t go calling for an activity check. I’m pretty careful, and it’s technically the ‘independent investigation’ work all Level 3s do.”

“I deal with internal files: I’ve seen far worse. Can’t tell you how often the independent squad gets caught trying to wrestle with discounts, escorts, speeding tickets...”

“The hell? It’s almost always confirming dates, names, places, getting permits for viewing things. Within the police station itself, most the time.”

“But no all-nighters, hopefully.”

Rai looked down into cup and his face broke into one of those dark smiles. “Why? The nights are the best time to really get things done. Fewer moving bodies getting in the way. Sometimes it’s the only time that works.”

“Sounds like you’re pulling nighters, after all.” Sao laughed. “This has been bothering me for a while. Do you actually sleep?”

“For real?”

Sao's smile locked. “Er, yes. For real.”

“Nope.”

There was a blocky, awkward lull. He thought to laugh again, but Rai had answered with such ease and ludicrous friendliness (probably due the the coffee), it was suddenly difficult.

“Okay, a few minutes on some nights, when there’s nothing better to do. Damn. I knew you were observant,” Rai mused, “so it was a given you would have noticed eventually. Does it sound weird? It’s not a problem for me, I’m used to it now, and it’s not contagious. Anyway, with new spells and monsters and anomalies being discovered every day, someone going without sleep isn’t really the most outrageous thing ever.”

“Are you serious?”

“Actually, it’s more reason to stay up if anything.”

“I meant the not-sleeping-”

Zen arrived with their plates before Sao had formed a witty reply.

“Oh?” she whistled, noting Sao’s look of incredulity that he had not quite wiped away. He became aware that he had likely not made such an unprepared expression in front of her before. Zen leaned close for an inspection. “Is Rai telling you about one of his haunted houses?”

“The last one was years ago, and they all came to nothing,” Rai grumbled.

“Not exactly. I’m hearing about some downright haunting sleep habits, though.”

“What, his? I think you told me this one before.” She tapped her chin and scrutinized Rai’s fairly revealing appearance. “You sometimes stay up days at a time, do you still do that--?”

“That was never the case. I just don’t sleep.”

“What, ever?”

“Since before I moved here, so it’s been a while.”

“The more the think about it, the more I can believe it,” Sao lounged dramatically against the window. “He’s always working, and I’ve seen a lot of the other cops and clerks - it’s not easy to keep at it. And you know what, don’t think I’ve even seen him yawn.”

“It happens sometimes,” Rai objected. “When I’m bored.”

“Still incredible, isn’t it?” Sao shook his head and Zen let out a little peal of laughter. Rai began to maul his salad but his acidic smile had eased a little.

“I suppose it makes sense, if it’s you. After all you, have… what did you call it?” She twirled a finger in the air, thinking. “Magic fingers or something. Remember when you-”

Rai crunched, a leaf of lettuce twitching. “That was also years ago. I don’t know if it works the same way anymore. Also, I gotta keep the gloves on when working now.” He stared down at his plate for a bit. “For now. Zen, can you get me another coffee?”

Several other diners were waiting for attention as well, and Zen peeled herself away. Rai returned to his greens. Sao slowly split his own fillet in half, then into slim, even pieces. “I’m sorry to bring it up again, and I appreciate your care, but if the gloves are an inconvenience...”

“They’re not.” Rai balked at the offer, his fork shuddering to a halt. Without looking Sao in the eye, he confirmed in a low grunt, “You can stop asking. The gloves aren’t only for your sake.”

Sao let his expression remain neutral. Rai scrunched up his lettuce and chewed. With each crunch and cheerful outburst from a neighboring table, their own table’s silence seemed to set Rai off. Air flowed through the cracks; he caved.

“I’ll explain later,” he muttered softly, “but not now. And definitely not here.”

“About what?”

“The gloves. You wouldn’t want me t-- you know what, just forget about it.”

“Oh.” Sao smiled. “If it’s more trouble than it’s worth, pay me no mind. It’s just gloves. You worried me for moment, there.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t be snapping about something so small. It’s not much, but I can tell you right now, it’s sort related to that hobby of mine.”

“What, gloves?”

“No more questions for now.” Rai grit his teeth. “Sorry,” he repeated.

“Take it easy. I’m not about to storm out. I still have to get the bill. I wouldn’t make you pay either, I was the one who brought you here.”

“Forgot to thank you for that.”

“Again, no problem at all. But -- oh man, did I forget my card--?” Sao searched for his wallet and surfaced after a feigned struggle. “I spoke too soon. Here it is.”

Rai closed his eyes and smirked. “Good. I was gonna snap for real.”

Their truce-making was interrupted by a rumble from the television speakers. The glass cups Zen had carefully piled into the racks shuddered. Activity at the bar went dead, entire tables in the dining room going quiet. Sao poked his head out of the booth, caught sight of the illuminated screen at the far end of the counter. Zen and one of the chefs were standing by, her hand covered her mouth. No wonder. The little scene framed by the screen was was a shock. And yet, nobody was saying anything.

Nobody knew what to expect, these days. Sao remained silent too.

The old LCD flickered, and stabilized. The camera was focused on an area behind a police barricade, a block of buildings on a corner, cars hurriedly abandoned. Smoke billowed from every opening - windows, pipes, cracks overflowed with swelling black clouds, rising upward in massive baubles, so heavy they seemed able to suppress breath with just the sight of them. But the police and reporters onsite did not budge. Why? The smoke would spread out soon. Wouldn’t it? They could suffocate. The smell, the heat must have been --

Sao took a deep breath. As easy as the breathing of the reporters over on the smoke-laden scene.

Slowly the incongruity of the scene dawned on him. It was not a fire. There was not a lick of flames, an impossible prospect for that quantity of smoke. A red hydrant sat untouched at the street corner, under a traffic light, which was operating undisturbed. Not a red truck or hose in sight. The police behind the car were smiling, and jostling. Enjoying the nice weather. No sweat. No panic. No fire.

The news ticker read: RESCUE DEPLOYED

Sao could feel hairs rising as the officers (and reporter entourage) suddenly leapt to action as a body tumbled out of the door. The camera was stopped at the barricade, and struggled to focus, blooming into a complete blur, zooming out, blurring again, bashed against another reporter vying for the same view, obscured by smoke - it was hard to make out anything precisely, but that body did not look ‘rescued’.

The footage was forced to cut as a writhing, gray form was finally centered in the lens, and another began to stumble down the front steps.

Then the screen was nothing but a shock of sky-blue. Gone were the smoky downtown streets. Instead the smartly dressed reporter at her studio desk apologized and promised, We’ll cover the results of the rescue as soon as we can, but authorities say all the victims have been accounted for, as of right now.

The room collectively released its held breath. There were a few nervous laughs.

“They moved fast.”

Rai was his feet, his teeth were bared in what Sao would have preferred not to call a smile, but that’s what it was. And this time, his voice matched his grim smirk.

“See? Told you it was the smartest way.”

A few eyes had turned. He was still shooting a victorious glare at the screen, as if it were personally responsible for rewarding him. For what?

“Rai.” Sao shifted out of his seat. But Rai was as fixated on the bar television as he had ever been on work. It took the bartender walking in front of the screen to change the channel to knock him out of it. Rai sat with a thump and began to further destroy his salad.

“Someone you know?” Sao asked politely.

“Hah! I was working on that case. The review and advisory I handed in this morning. I usually don’t advise major action but it was too obvious.” Noting Sao’s frozen face, Rai laughed. “Yeah, this one’s on the news so no secrecy needed. Did you see what happened? Pull out the big guns, end it fast. Like I said to. No need for something so tedious to drag on, especially if they were gonna hole up in a place like that. And it’s not like Trae’s doing jack with his time otherwise.”

“So the smoke was part of the rescue.” Sao said.

“Yeah…” Rai’s energy dimmed slightly. “I know it looks bad, but the worst part is just that. And what do they wanna do, put crime scene photos on postcards? I’m actually surprised the last part made it to the news, but when people are getting saved and bad guys are getting roasted, who cares if isn’t pretty?”

His coffee arrived shortly after, so he was too occupied to continue the conversation, but Sao was quite certain Rai finished his second cup twice as quickly as the last. At the tail end of his drink, Rai whipped his whirring phone out of his pocket with his free hand. He slapped down the cup. A few of their fellow diners turned their heads in surprise at the noise, and a few in annoyance. Rai took no notice.

“Gotta take this call.”

“Expecting a good one today?”

“The bad ones can ring off the hook at the office.”

Sao just smiled.

Rai strode out the door, puffed proud and unstoppable. For someone who hadn’t slept in years. Sao shook his head. New monsters and magic were appearing every day. There was a lot of history to re-read and rewrite. Rai seemed on top of that. Villains to roast. Now there was a vulgar phrase. That hadn’t been intended as a cute analogy, not that Rai seemed particularly fond of those, it had very well looked literal.

Sao balked at the sight of fried fish on his plate. Across from him, Rai’s salad had gone down easily. He smiled, absently. Finicky eating situations reminded him of the old commune. Not much to smile about, or maybe there was. After all, those days were long over.

Outside, Rai was happily grinding leaves under his heel and effectively hollering into his phone receiver. He pumped a fist, nearly decking a passer-by.

He was more of a hazard in happiness than his usual state.

Sao was inexplicably tired. He ordered tea again, this time with hot water and extra creamer. Extra sugar. He ran through the motions like clockwork. And now he was reminded of school - before the commune. Wonderful. He had regressed further.

He needed something else to look at. No, not something, someone. People, signs of unfamiliar life, flourishing outside the tiny shell of a world he always found himself drifting back to.

Luckily, Zen was there to appease him. “So, any plans for the weekend?”