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38 – Grey Miasma
Ryan allowed himself to be led out of the research facility and onto the smooth pavement. ‘Come on, Newborn,’ Jane said gently as she pulled him down the street. Behind a deli, there was an anonymous-looking service door that led to a set of fairy stairs. There was the usual momentary disorientation of leaving a System area, though without the accompanying fear that came with entering a Solstice-created blackout zone. There was no reason it should be hitting him hard. He had been sure that he’d gone through all the possibilities, that- And there was nothing logical about griefs, even when your very programming was designed to make emotions as…
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37 – Among the Unfamiliar
After April left, Ryan busied himself with the notes she’d given him. There was a genuinely astonishing variety in the people present. People who had made wishes; people who’d had wishes made on their behalf; others, fewer than the other types, who were part of experiments. And lastly, those who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the research he’d done, he knew there were far more than this who’d had their lives touched by mirror. Even more than the “dusties” that weren’t present, but in many – most – cases, the mirror could be removed without lasting effects or even without conferring a wish. He…
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36 – Reflections
‘Welcome Director, you can call me Ditto.’ Ryan nodded to the young man and followed him towards the elevator. So far, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the research facility – it wasn’t in an ordinary Agency. Still, he hadn’t expected it to be. In general, there were two types of Agency research centres – those hosted within Central itself. Central research centres tended to focus on agent – or agency – development, things classed as “internal”. “External” research tended to be things that involved magic other than blue – whether it be fae, time, or…mirror. Due to the ability of these magics to disrupt blue, potentially harm…
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34 – The Shape of Stories
Each of the Major Courts had their own aesthetic – though its degree of prevalence varied from court to court. At least in their forward-facing areas, the Liars had a cool, minimalist look even more simple than that of most agencies. The Mad had their contrary looks in all aspects of their world – from the mismatched fabrics worn by their queen; to the clashing art in their waiting rooms. The Lost… weren’t at all what he had expected. Ryan tried to settle into the square-shaped chair. He knew he had limited exposure to the human world – but the Lost’s waiting room reminded him of a slightly tired doctor’s…
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31 – A Dance, A Diary
Every interaction with a person was a tiny snapshot of their whole. Sometimes, one moment could express everything about that person – a moment of courage or cowardice, charity or callousness. The rest of the time, it took a lifetime to build up a picture of a person, and even then, they could surprise you. Ryan tried to adjust his face so that he wasn’t staring so dumbfounded at the newest aspect, resplendent in shades of green. The more he learnt about Stef, the more he realised he didn’t know. He had always known, logically, that he had a very incomplete picture. That despite the almost immediate feelings of fatherly…
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28 – Everything Changes
Some agents felt very attached to a certain time frame. Often, but not always, it was the time associated with breaking past that unofficial “newborn” phase, of the moments when they truly became themselves. It was, in its way, very human. Others simply became invested in hobbies to the point where they became a defining part of that agent’s personality, and they would quietly gripe as their treasured pastime fell out of favour, and would crow in victory once they once again cycled back into the public zeitgeist. Ryan had never found himself experiencing nostalgia for any particular slice of time. The possibilities of tomorrow, of what could come, of…
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24 – Ground State
As strange as the thought was, he felt like he was going unarmed to an execution. Not bringing a knife to a gun fight, not bringing words to a brawl, but…going naked to a place where it was almost certain someone meant him harm. Curt looked down at himself – the choice of dress was deliberate: uniform pants, shirt and tie. Enough to show that he was still toeing the line, without being stifled by the entire uniform. And if another fight broke out – well, it was easier to fight like this without stopping to shrug off a coat, or worry that Ryan would be able to get a…
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22 – The Beginning, The Future
[Join me in the lab, Newborn, if you please.] Ryan stared at the text message – text was an unusual format for Jane to use for such a short message. Longer emails were common enough, but otherwise, she tended towards voice. He took a moment to finish the form he was working on. As much as he hated to admit it, if Jane did appoint Curt as his aide – even in an interim capacity – it would streamline things. He signed the form, touched it, and submitted it when the prompt appeared in his HUD. The lab, which Jones had near-anonymously designated eight-alpha, sat at the top of his…
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19 – The Death in Every Moment
Ryan turned the coaster over and over in his hand, something just to keep his hands busy, something to dull his mind as he watched light reflect and refract through it. The resin was clear, with gold flakes here and there, but nothing that would overwhelm the rose petals – Carol had made them as a pair, one for each of them, something subtle they could keep on their desks, a reminder of each other, even when work pulled them apart. And now, it was one of the few things left of their relationship. They had loved, he’d mourned, and time had passed. Cruelly, the guilt had left more of…
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18 – Far From Basic
Ryan adjusted the blinds on the board room windows – the tinted glass kept out the majority of the glare. Still, it was something to fill the time, something to pass the seconds before everyone else arrived. A meeting macro had aligned the table, set out jugs and glasses – everything was in place, except for the participants. At his place at the head of the table sat several folders. Copies of both the basic outcomes of the night before. Under normal circumstances, these would be the meat of the discussion, as well as a preliminary folder with facts about Stef’s condition. Jones walked in, nothing more than a tablet…
