Three-Eyed Gabriela dipped a needle into the luminescent blue blood, wiped the tip against the vial’s maw, and returned to writing her daily report:

Speculative Image #3462

Seller: Catharine Tibbets

Demonic Type: Many-Eyed

Verification: Yes

Description: Two separate visions of a flood of orphans, directed by a cultivator carrying—

The click at her door told her of a visitor. He wore ratty mortal clothes, hands in his pockets, and slouched in while repeatedly glancing at her collection of reference tomes. When his eyes drew to hers, he smiled. Gabriela dutifully smiled back. She withdrew a fresh scroll from her right desk drawer and the man imposed himself onto a chair.

The custom chair she had bought yesterday, an investment for her boss’s next visit. It cost fifty taels of silver. It cost the itchy blanket and empty tins currently stuffed beneath her desk. It cost ten weeks. Yet, in less than ten seconds, the man had covered it with his filth.

Gabriela chose to process quickly, so she could clean the chair. She asked, “Name?”

“Keir Lao,” he said while tapping twice against his black hair. He wore leather gloves, stained with many colors of blood.

She wrote his name. “Purpose?”

He pointed at the books and asked, “It’s a wonderful collection, did you borrow them from the Library?”

“Is that your purpose?”

“I’m jealous. This is only my,” he counted with his fingers, “third time in Panopticon and I’d never be let up there, but the knowledge! They’re too expensive to buy. How did you get them?”

Stop asking questions, already, she thought as she stuck the needle into the thickest part of the bamboo scroll. “The public inquiry offices are on the second ring.” She smiled. “Have a good day.”

Keir Lao put up his hands. “Ah, sorry. I do have a memory to sell, though. An Interesting Clue, I think is the term, that I saw on my way here.”

Directing her third eye, Gabriela focused past Keir Lao’s tunic to his heart, counting its beats. She also noticed he lacked a demonic core. She yanked the needle out, made a note, and said, “Standard pricing of three taels of silver. Deposit the clue into the receptacle.”

“Gotcha.” He placed his palm against his forehead.

Then he hummed.

The first crescendo charged directly through Gabriela’s skull, letting the others pierce her mind. Her office windows shook with the hum, the cacophony slaughtering the crowded street rhythm that had always populated her office.

She had never heard a Vocalist as loud. Extraction was always noisy for those people, a reason they were her least favorite sellers, but the volume would always match the memory’s value. She thought he was doing it on purpose.

The Vocalist held his tone while he extracted a white, sharp memory bead from his forehead. He threw his bead into the basin.

The memory liquefied, transforming from white to bright silver. Gabriela quickly made another note and said, “The Library deems the memory complete and without duplication. Would you like your payment now, or upon—“

The bright silver color shifted again, this time to dark steel. Then again, to shimmering pink. Its final shift rested upon a sparkling violet, accompanied by a tripling of the liquid’s volume within the basin.

“This…” Gabriela muttered, thoughts flashing through her head, Where did a mortal find a Divine Glimpse? Why did he try to sell it as a clue? His heart didn’t reveal the lie. Does he even know? Procedure does not cover this scenario. I need to ask my boss. I need to ask my boss’s boss. I need to ask my boss’s boss’s boss. This annoying Vocalist. “annoying Vocalist.”

He stood up. “Hey!”

“Stay here,” Gabriela said. She grabbed a blank scroll, a fresh needle, and— her hand hovered over the vials of blood on her desk, her favorite blue or the safe black.

She grabbed the Needle Wasp corpse filled with blue blood. After slapping it to her belt, she secured the basin and walked out into Panopticon. The Library, its ashen tuberous tendrils suspending it in the far sky above the city, was the only part of her crowded surroundings that let her think, I know what to do.

***

The flickering fires of the sun warned of nearing night.

Gabriela thought she had a perfect plan. She would weave through the obelisks, to the Dao Finder docks. There she could fly on a government vessel to the Library. On the trip, she’d write her report. Once arrived, she’d submit it and be promoted for her diligence.

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A refreshing chill circled through her as she directed qi down to her legs.

She heard a shout, “Wait!” She peeked behind her, third eye swiveling into her head, past her demonic beast core, brain, and skull, to observe Keir Lao springing forward. “H—” he tried.

Keir Lao really was mortal, as his grip was without qi. In a single step, Gabriela was a few meters away, Keir Lao and the civilian traffic of travelers and traders being slammed to the floor. Even some cultivators found themselves tossed aside by her rush. Normally, such movement in the mortal streets would be forbidden. Today, she had a Divine Glimpse.

Gabriela departed, leaving Keir Lao behind.

The deep violet obelisks were the main buildings of the city, all government run. Flicks of color, any color, would spark from the obelisks and draw up the Library’s tendrils, memories ready for archival.

Flesh scented smog rolled through. It hardened to a taste, sour with impurities. The guards of whichever fire pit it was would lose their jobs if they couldn’t stop the attempted self-refinements.

Polished stairs weaved throughout Panopticon, twisting and diving in whichever motion made the least sense, a vestige from so long ago that large families owned ancient maps of how to navigate them. The steps had their own angles at which they reflected light, piercing through smoke, shining in eyes.

The effect was a mass illusion, where someone many meters away could appear as a shade walking before you, and walls would vanish if you walked up to them at the right angle. It was home to the many-eyed demons and, like all of her type, Gabriela could see through the illusions.

Whump.

She was on the ground. A man wearing white jade robes, a drum the size of another person on his back, was glaring towards her. When she had run into him, it was as though she’d been trampled. She focused away from the crushing sensation, even as her breath refused to return.

He was doubtless a cultivator. Four amulets, of ruby, green jade, a heart, and spirit stone hung around his neck. His cropped brown hair, longer than hers, was wound into a bun atop his head. Glowing bone sandals were pinned through his feet. His robes were oversized, a sign of regency or hidden weapons, or both.

Flicking his sleeve, the dirt Gabriela had imprinted on his robes was swept away. He folded his hands and bent at the slightest angle. “Are you blind?”

“My truest fault,” she apologized.

“Not that,” he said. “I am Daoist Vermillion Drum, Dao Child of the Shimmering River Sect, Golden Core genius at only thirty four years of age, on the very cusp of breaking through to Carved Qi stage. My presence shakes the heavens, and where I step, lesser cultivators worship to gain understanding. My family’s legacy is millions of years long, and I am the rightful heir to it! My merits to my sect are innumerable, and it is by my own grace that I deigned to visit this wretched place. Yet, within minutes of arriving, I suffered an attempted assault. How will you compensate me?”

Gabriela recalled her readings. The sect was Panopticon’s largest exporter of memories, traded out Fire by the Shimmering River. They ruled the wealthiest of the twelve river cities, and had only one Dao Child, their most precious student.

“Well?” he asked.

Drum was important, but she had nothing of value to give him. She looked at the basin. It was more important than him.

She kowtowed and repeated her apology, adding every courtesy she knew. She praised his accomplishments, his sect, and his family. She debased herself. She even held out the few silver tael she had, adding that he was worthy of much more, but she had nothing else, as she was only a lowly government servant.

“Stand up,” he said.

She did.

His hand moved. He gripped her by her skull, over her lower two eyes, as his other hand held open her third eye. Her boots couldn’t touch the ground. Silver clinked. He muttered, “Could be.”

Drum treated her head like an ornate tea cup which he feared would crack if dropped. Gabriela felt falling ten thousand meters would be safer than his hands. With a squeeze, she’d be shattered.

“Rejoice, as I’ll let you repay me with your life, not death. Better yet, you will be no mere servant of mine. It is your great fortune that I am seeking a disciple of my own, as I wish to impart my profound comprehensions. You are mediocre in many ways, but I am magnanimous! As your new master, I shall be responsible for your teachings, so that you may reach great heights. As my new student, you shall be responsible for upholding my teachings, so that none may think lesser of me.” He let go. “Formalize our relationship. Kowtow once more.”

Gabriela reeled. “I-”

“Kowtow.”

He’ll kill me if I don’t.

A crowd had formed of bored mortals and passionate cultivators. “Why’s she not?” A fat woman asked. “Stunned by her own good luck,” an old man replied.

“Hold on,” said someone from the crowd. Keir Lao, red faced and panting, pushed through the people. “She can’t.”

Drum asked her, “Is this true?”

Gabriela was relieved. She reasoned that if Keir Lao was willing to risk his life by involving himself, he had some mysterious power. With his Divine Glimpse, there was no way he was an ordinary figure, despite his apparent lack of qi. She nodded. “I’ve other duties. I must reject.”

Steel glinted and a cold pressure rested against her throat. A flying sword. Drum roared, “Impudent!”

“If you kill her, you’ll regret it,” said Keir Lao.

Drum laughed. “You have no cultivation. This is the first time in my life that a mortal brat has threatened me.”

Keir Lao frowned. “I’m not threatening you.”

Gabriela regretted trusting him.

Keir Lao continued, “But do you think the city will allow you to kill anyone?”

Gabriela realized the answers were, from least to most important: officially, no; effectively, yes; today, not them. However, the last one only applied if she mentioned the memory. She said, “Daoist Drum, we—”

“I’m done listening!” A second sword flew from his robes towards Keir Lao. The sword in front of Gabriela swung back.

Her other regret was not being important yet.

“Fifty thousand spirit stones,” a deep voice boomed from all directions. The mentioned wealth flooded down, a waterfall of glowing gems. Instead of pooling on the ground, they stopped halfway to form a barrier around Gabriela. She couldn’t see Keir Lao.

She heard a soft clang, then nothing. Is this Keir Lao’s power?

A breath later, the spirit stones fell away from her. She saw two shattered flying swords, the crowd with their mouths open, Keir Lao untouched, and Drum kneeling before a bald, six-eyed man in a plain brown robe. Her boss’s boss’s boss, Six-Eyed Iah.

It was her second time seeing him, but the first so close. His silver goatee contrasted his dark cheeks, but neither defined him as well as his six molten-earth like, red russet eyes. Each was supporting his glower.

“Fifty thousand spirit stones,” he repeated, but nothing appeared. Instead, he continued, “Your fine. Ten thousand for attacking a legal visitor, and fifteen thousand for a member of the Panopticon government. Doubled penalty for intent to kill. Truly disgraceful and unethical behavior.”

Iah swept all the spirit stones back into his sleeve before the crowd could move on them. Then he produced a jade slip. “A record of your debt, Daoist. You may stand.”

Drum took the slip with an undisguisable fear, but Gabriela knew it couldn’t be due to the amount. A spirit stone was worth nearly a thousand taels of silver, yet even fifty thousand spirit stones weren’t worth a mention next to a day’s trade by the Shimmering River Sect. They could pay with a smile. She concluded that Iah’s strength frightened Drum, as he walked away while shaking.

“Gabriela,” Iah said.

He knows my name. Now I should give him my report. Wait, I didn’t manage to finish it. I’ll need to talk to him. Is my uniform in order? Can I clean the chair before he comes inside? Would it be rude to make him wait?

He asked, “I believe you have something to report?”

“Sir!”

Six-Eyed Iah chuckled. He was a legend who ended the War of Broken Dreams with a revised tax code, and Gabriela’s idol. Yet, instead of a harsh and efficient bureaucrat, Gabriela felt she was looking at an affable middle-aged man.

The sun became the moon as its last fire died.