Location: Outside Room 314 of the MID building

Time: 8:31 AM, January 2nd 2108

  “Sir, I believe this is the correct room.”

  I had received an unexpected promotion. I went from a rookie police officer from the suburbs sent on patrols through the slums to a special agent in the Ministry of Investigation and Defense. That’s all well and good, but my official notice was a single piece of paper with a message written in marker.

  ‘Congratulations new guy, you get to work for me now. Is that the new Invulnerable Princess movie? I haven’t seen it yet, so you better not spoil anything. No, Nora, don’t write this part down. What do you mean you hadn’t restarted writing it down yet? Couldn’t you tell I was giving the rest of the notice? Anyway, make sure you’re at the ARA office by eight on the second.’

  A joke, right? That was clearly a joke, especially after what I’d done the week prior. I wasn’t exactly in prime condition to be promoted. I was lucky enough to survive without being arrested.

  I fully expected to lose my job as a police officer when I decided to protect Emelia, this wasn’t what I had in mind though. Rather than facing rebuke, I was climbing the career ladder. No matter how I looked at it, that note made no sense.

  But the MID Ministry Director’s seal was stamped onto the bottom of the paper. Not to mention it was hand delivered by an MID employee, along with an MID blazer and ID. I decided it was best to assume the note was legitimate and report to my new post on Monday morning.

  By eight on the second. There were two ways to interpret those words, both of which mean the same thing. The difference is the severity of the message they suggested. By eight on the second, of January, or not a second after eight.

  Safe to say I failed to follow either interpretation. The time displayed on my watch continued to remind me of my failure. My only hope was that my new boss wasn’t the type to use the much more precise second interpretation of ‘by eight on the second’.

  Things were taking longer than expected. I hadn’t considered the fact that I had no idea how to find the ARA office until I arrived at the MID building.

  It was a surprisingly complex building. Not to mention I was already running late. Half the streets downtown were blocked off. Apparently there was a conference scheduled later in the week. Not that it had anything to do with me.

  Naturally my first idea was to ask a receptionist for help.

  I couldn’t find one. No, that’s not quite right. It’s not like it was a deserted building. I found plenty of staff, but after making eye contact they would shuffle away before I could approach them. And when I did manage to sneak up on one they would give me a list of reasons why they were too busy to help, suggesting I go see someone else.

  After thirty minutes of wandering around I finally cornered an employee who agreed to guide me. It took too long. You’d think finding a guide on your first day would be easy. Why did it take me so long?

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  In hindsight, I was clearly being avoided, but at the time that conclusion was impossible to accept. Why would they avoid someone on their first day? And even if they were, why would anyone assume they were being avoided on their first day? I hadn’t yet realized the kind of department I’d been transferred into.

  I gingerly pushed open the door and looked inside.

  Six desks and three people.

  If one of them was for me, did that mean only five other people work there? I was under the impression that every agency at the MID was the elite of the elite. Even the station I used to work at had more support than this.

  And don’t bother thinking they’re good enough workers to only need six people. I wouldn’t even dream of referring to them as good workers. Were they even working at all?

  I could only see the back of his head, but the one closest to me was doing something on his computer.

  A movie? He was watching a movie at work. To make matters worse, it was a movie that was still in theatres. An officer of the law, watching pirated movies.

  Not to mention, he was at work! Everyone could see. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. If you’re going to slack off, please be slightly more discrete with it. Did none of them care?

  The woman at the desk across from the movie watcher didn’t seem to have noticed. She had short brown hair. I think some people would call it auburn, but I’m not exactly sure what auburn is. And I say short, but it went maybe an inch past her ears.

  I’m fine with short hair. I know some guys are partial to hair length, but I’ve never really cared much. She had a cut face too. She looked like she was younger than me, but I could tell her looks were deceiving. I’m willing to bet that she was in her thirties. Not that I’d hold it against her. She was attractive, actually, from what I could see she was really cute, but I couldn’t give an official judgment until I saw her standing up and from a few different angles. She was kind of slouched down, so it was hard to get a good look. Not to mention her eyes were closed.

  Wait. Her eyes were closed? Definitely. I didn’t want to admit it, but she was sleeping. It wasn’t the time to take a nap.

  “That’s okay, I’m fine.”

  She spoke! And she’s too fine! How long had she been sleeping there if it had gotten to the point where she could start sleep talking? Someone needed to notice. An employee was making her way through an entire REM cycle while the guy across from her was intently watching a movie.

  The third guy didn’t seem to mind. I’m fairly certain he noticed me open the door, but he didn’t do anything. He just kept reading his book, as if I wasn’t worth acknowledging.

  If you’re curious, the title of the book was 108 Reasons Why Your Genetically Engineered Daughter is Still Family. I wasn't aware the bookstores of this city catered to such specific tastes.

  “You must be Jaxon Charlotte.”

  The voice came from behind me. I turned around and a woman was walking toward me. She was slightly taller than me with hair that extended halfway down her back. It was such a light blonde that most people would probably mistake it for white, and it ended in pale blue tips.

  She was truly beautiful. The kind of person you’d expect to be a model.

  The kind of person you'd assume it would be a crime for me to approach.

  Why'd I need to give two examples? That's just the kind of beauty we're talking about. Someone I'm not prepared to deal with.

  The only problem was a scar that started in the top right of her forehead that extended to just above her left eye. If she wanted to she could have easily covered it with her bangs, but it almost seemed like she was putting it on display. She was using her hair as a frame to draw attention to the scar. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of, she was proud.

  The power she seemed to naturally radiate almost caused me to overlook the familiar face trailing in her wake. Emelia. I’m sure her situation was complicated, but I was glad she was alive.

  With every step they took toward me I could feel the temperature drop.

  “And you’re almost forty minutes late on your first day of work.”