“Did they concede the funds, Governor?”
“No. Um ... Andreas, have my visi ...”
“Waiting in your office.”
That wasn’t protocol. Andreas usually played by the book.
“Good. Why did you send them in?”
He twiddled his fingers.
“They arrived an hour early. I tired of them.”
“You tired of them. What does that mean?”
Andreas wasn’t the best at direct eye contact. He usually grabbed a spot just off the eyeline.
“They’re not pleasant people, Governor. And I’m busy.”
“Not pleasant? I disagree. Did they say something to you?”
“Oh, no. Not a word. They stared at me. Longer than one might expect in a practical context.”
Trevor knew that tone of voice. Andreas wanted to be blunt, but he was concerned about offending his boss.
“What? Tell me.”
“Fine. I find them unsettling. Frankly, Governor, I didn’t want other visitors to see them here. Your continued association with them may compromise your reputation.”
OK. Here we go. Again.
“Andreas, I need you to hear me. You’re very good at your job. Then you open your mouth. I used to have the same problem, especially where superiors were concerned.”
“I’m here to look after your best interests, sir.”
“And I don’t expect you to be a ‘yes’ man. But you know nothing about this matter or what we went through. Speak about my friends that way again, and your next job will be at least fifty light-years from this station.”
Andreas knew when he was beat. He returned to his work with a simple nod. Trevor put the little man out of his head and focused on resolving the next problem. He put on his best smile for his visitors, who he found chatting on the couch.
“Good morning,” he said. “I’m sorry to drag you over here on short notice.”
“No worries,” said Cho Huang, a thirty-year-old engineer for Halifax R&D. “You wouldn’t call if it wasn’t urgent.”
Trevor hugged her like an old friend. They’d known each other off and on for seven months, tied together first by Mau Ping and then by the avatar only Trevor knew as the Enzathi. A warmth flowed through them.
“Ren.”
He fell into a hug with Ren Bowa, an Episteme restaurant owner. The gentle transfer of warmth settled Trevor’s nerves.
“Governor.”
“Please, Ren. It’s Trevor. No pretenses here. Would you two like something to drink?”
Cho pointed out the glasses on their end tables.
“We helped ourselves. Hope you don’t take offense.”
“Not at all. Please. Sit.”
This would not be their first conversation along these lines, but Trevor knew it would be the most difficult.
“We’re the last of our group,” he began. “I know it’s been tough to make sense of why, but something has changed. I need to ask: Will you please allow me to take on what remains of the Void inside you?”
The question was the most absurd Trevor ever asked anyone. Yet it felt like part of his new normal. It was inevitable.
“What changed?” Ren asked.
“Why should I surrender this beautiful gift?” Cho added.
As the golden floaters merged in the center of his vision, Trevor glanced to his left. Mau Ping stood beside his chair.
“If answers will end the stalemate,” Mau said, “permission granted.”
Trevor knew it wasn’t that simple. If Ren and Cho, who considered themselves privileged members of a ‘great awakening,’ heard the truth, they wouldn’t want to be ordinary again.
The Enzathi had been specific for months: The extent of its plan must not leak beyond Trevor.
“The bags will exploit the sequence,” it insisted. “We will not harm. The bags will.”
