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After I shower and get dressed into a classy yellow tunic that gives me flexibility as a huntress but is still meant for formal affairs, I stop by the cafeteria downstairs to find Maria a gift. I’m not actually sure that I’m supposed to bring her a gift, but I’ve seen ambassadors do similar things for company meetings, so I don’t think it could go wrong.
The only downside is that I don’t know if Maria has any food allergies, or if she’ll even eat something that was grown and enhanced in a lab, not a garden. She seems like the kind to appreciate the thought, though, so I gravitate toward a delicious smelling bakery. Cinnamon and ginger spices waft through the air on this side of the lobby cafeteria, and the window display sports hot cinnamon rolls, crisp gingersnaps, and a whole host of various goodies inside.
I linger at the counter, tapping my thumb and biting my lip while a plump barista watches me with an amused smile from behind the counter. Normally I don’t bother stopping here, though the treats have always smelled tasty.
There’s a ding from the oven. The barista excuses herself, and then returns from the back room with a tray of miniature bread loaves. I step on my tippy toes to see them better.
The barista grins at me, tossing aside a curly lock of hair, and points to the confections. “Pumpkin bread. Want to try a sample?”
“Uh... yes, please?” My eyes widen as she slices a small slice from one of the loaves and hands it to me on a napkin.
“It’s hot,” she warns.
She leaves me be and returns to prepping the fresh loaves with a thin glaze. My mouth waters when I try a bite of the crumbly confection. It’s delicious. Kind of burns my tongue a little, but the main thing is that it’s not too sweet, while still delivering a perfect dose of pumpkin.
“One of these,” I say the moment I swallow the bite. I point to the napkin.
“One slice?”
“One loaf,” I clarify. I fish out my card and pass it over.
The barista chuckles, pleased with herself, and then rings up my order before carefully sliding a loaf of cooled pumpkin bread into a white paper bag with such ease that she doesn’t even mess up the frosting.
With my purchase made—though I now wonder if Mr. Saito is going to give me an allowance like President Koenigin did—I start to head down the steps of the lobby, then freeze.
There are gobs of protestors and reporters gathered around the glass doors, held back by a force of yellow barricades and patrolling hunters.
My excitement dissipates faster than the morning dew would if the sun ever came out.
Everyone knows about the laboratories. What if they find out what happened to Koenigin? What’s going to happen to the enhanced who attacked her? What’s going to happen to me?
I shudder, picturing the other companies removing the NELs’ sapience chips or putting them down like a sick pet. What if that happens to Ebs?
I backtrack into the lobby.
I don’t know that Ebs participated in the president’s mind wipe. I don’t know that he had any part in removing Koenigin from power, except to call for backup when I warned him Koenigin was attacking.
But that’s just it... I don’t know what happened. He very easily could have participated. Or his minimal involvement could get him charged for assisting with murder.
My involvement could get me charged.
What if they plant one of those chips in my brain and downgrade me, or make me one of the mangled? It’s happened to other people, in worse case scenarios. Before I realize it, I’m power-walking the other direction and to the steps that lead toward the basement. There’s no way I can face the mob.
For all that I don’t want to go downstairs, I’m going to have to take the back way out.
