The main room was empty, save for Wilma and O12. The robot was prowling around the perimeter of the room, the dog-based programming leaving it curious about just about everything. Antonio was off to his apartment.

“Show me national aetheric levels.” Wilma waited until the computer displayed the result, a display that David and Mari had no access to.

Most of the nation was dark, but there were flashing indicators of elevated aetheric levels. Allendale, LA, Chicago. Other were scattered across the map, some of them blazing with confirmation codes, others flickering with “inadequate information” notes.

“Project aetheric level increase rates and display, one second to 24 hours elapsed time.”

And the lights started to move, to grow. The dim green of low-level aetheric levels began to glow brighter, before they went to yellow, then red. The flashes around the cities became bigger, spreading out like some kind of growing infection. The red indicators pulsed with warning icons.

Red indicated Aetheric levels where AEs could exist indefinitely. Wilma paused the image at six months, the map a mixture of green, yellow, and red.

And of course, the higher the level, the more breaches you’d get. She sighed, looking around at the high tech surroundings.

Everything we need, and not nearly enough people to use it…

When the phone rang, Wilma didn’t start. That was why she was here, after all. She reached out and answered it.

“So, I read the report. It looks like you’ve solved your personnel problems.”

Wilma snorted. “Two interns who have to be kept in the dark, Alamini. They can help us with the low-level stuff, but I’d like a bigger staff, please.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Alamini chuckled. “And so would everyone else. But we’re sort of limited. The whole secret operation harms our ability to advertise on Craig’s. Still, the two kids seem to be—”

“They’re bright. They had a decent plan. So far, and from report that Antonio and I got, they appear to be fairly disciplined—for kids.” Wilma let an edge into her voice. “They should have backed off when they ran into that hive, called us and asked if we had suits. Sure, nothing happened—but what if one of them tripped and twisted their ankle on the way back to the van?” She snorted. “Teenagers. They think they are immortal.”

The chuckle was gone from Alamini’s voice. “I’m aware.” There was a pause. “I’m not asking for you to throw them into a major breach event, but make certain they can be ready—you know why.”

“I thought we were going to solve this problem, seal the breaches nationwide?”

“So our technicians keep promising. Like they have been promising since the 1980s.” There was a pause. “But that’s not the main reason I’m calling you. Our opposite numbers may have a cell in the area.”

“Fuck.” Wilma looked around. “How many?”

“No idea. But since Allendale is a hotspot…”

“Our charming ‘what could possibly go wrong’ and ‘we’re doing this for SCIENCE!’ opposite numbers will be trying to make things worse.”

“Exactly, which means you might want to warn your interns.”

“If you’d told me this a few days ago, we wouldn’t have any interns.”

“Which is why I didn’t.”

“Thanks, Alamini,” Wilma rubbed her forehead, feeling an incipient headache coming on. “You know, the more we tell them, the bigger the chance is that they’ll start to wonder why we can’t just call in the FBI since we’re a secret project for the government.”

“Well. I’m certain you’ll be well prepared for that eventuality.” There was a pause, and then Alamini’s deep voice sounded apologetic. “I know I’m asking you to make bricks without straw, Wilma, but with our manpower crush—where do you think a major breach has a bigger chance of doing a lot of damage? Where you are, or downtown LA?”

“I understand. I just don’t like it. Fine, I’ll bring the kids up to speed, as much as we can, but I’m not deploying them for anything dangerous.”

“That’s fine. Just remember that they won’t always be kids. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have ten other very important calls…”

“Understood.” Moments later, the line went dead, and Wilma leaned back. O12 padded over to her and pressed its ‘head’ into her legs. She absently reached down and gave it a pat.

“Should have gone into real estate,” Wilma finally said. Then she shook her head. She had more work to do before tomorrow, so it was time to get to it.