“Just grab your mask and clip. The rest—including coffee—you’ll find at the office,” Art said lightly as we stepped out of the cottage.
I smacked my forehead, hurried back into the bedroom, dug the mask and clip out of my pack, and put them on. Almost immediately, a neat icon appeared in the upper-right corner of my mask’s display—a small circle formed by stylized human figures. It pulsed softly. I focused my gaze on it, and it unfolded into a translucent window:
From: Ellen
Required: Mac, Art
Optional: Manish, Mona, Norton
Meeting Request
Time: 11:00–12:00
Location: Conference Room 16
Hi, guys.
I’ve saved your afterparty for dessert—after all the others—so you’ll have a chance to sleep in.
As you can probably guess (Art especially), the lineup will be expanded: besides Manish from Analytics, we’ll have Mona from ICDA, as well as Norton.
See you there!
—Ellen
Accept Decline
I mentally reached for Accept. It glowed a soft green, and the message dissolved a second later.
We stepped into the cabin—or perhaps the lounge—of Big Tom, and I immediately noticed the interior had changed. There were now three seats, arranged facing one another as if for a private conversation. As soon as we settled in and the soft safety harnesses folded around us, the glider lifted off almost soundlessly.
I glanced at my companions, wondering how to start a conversation—but then I noticed Mona’s gaze had gone distant, turned inward. I understood: she was speaking to someone through her clip. Art had noticed too. He kept a courteous silence, only occasionally glancing her way.
A few minutes passed like that. Then Mona stirred, looked at Art, then at me, then back at Art. He watched her quietly, questioningly. She seemed unsettled—excited, and slightly thrown off balance.
“It’s Karina,” she said at last, as if committing to the words. “Well… not just her.”
“Karina’s the director of ICDA,” Art explained quickly, flicking a glance at me before turning back to Mona.
She paused again, collecting herself. I noticed her fingers tighten slightly on the armrest.
“They’ve created a project task force at ICDA. Because of the new Gates. And because of… all of this.” She made a vague gesture. “The group’s work is being coordinated directly by a special commission under the Central Forum.”
Art straightened almost imperceptibly.
“And?” he asked evenly.
Mona exhaled.
“Karina just appointed me to lead it.”
For a second, silence filled the cabin, broken only by the steady hum of Big Tom’s engines.
“And Karina…” Mona added after a beat, “she’s joining as an ordinary member.”
I caught myself smiling.
Art, however, looked at her differently now—steady, serious, without a trace of irony.
“Congratulations,” he said simply. “That’s significant. And… it’s right.”
Mona met his eyes, gratitude flickering there.
“Honestly? I’m a little stunned,” she admitted. “Everything’s moving too fast.”
“You’ll handle it,” Art said after a brief pause. “There’s no one better for it right now.”
She gave a noncommittal shrug. The nervousness hadn’t vanished—but something else had taken its place: focus.
“Karina will join us via conference link,” Mona added. “She said she’ll brief us on the latest developments.”
I made a mental note that this “afterparty” was shaping up to be far more substantial than I’d expected.
A few minutes later, we descended smoothly onto the wide landing platform in front of Trillium.
When we stepped out of the glider, an image materialized directly on the surface of the landing platform in front of us—a stylized arrow labeled:
Conference Room 16
The arrow drifted slowly toward the entrance, as if inviting us to follow—which we did.
Once inside the building and moving down the corridor, I noticed that the section of floor beneath our feet subtly transformed into a moving walkway, gently accelerating our steps.
Inside Trillium, the corridors opened into multi-level galleries. The space was filled with soft, almost imperceptible music. Miniature fountains murmured from recessed alcoves. The air was fresh and cool, carrying the faintest hint of pine and citrus.
Three-dimensional holographic panels stretched along the walls: mountain landscapes in one section, rolling ocean waves in another, elsewhere slowly shifting abstract forms that seemed almost alive. None of it distracted. On the contrary, it calmed the mind, aligning it quietly toward work.
A brief notification flickered across my mask:
Layer connected: People; filter: ARC
Now, beside each person passing through the space, discreet captions appeared with names, ranks, and positions:
Dong, Agent, Rank Two; Essence Picker, Class Three
Liana, Infrastructure Operator
Hamid, Essence Logistics Specialist
It felt completely natural, as though I had always seen people this way.
Then my gaze fixed on a trio approaching us—three… well, presumably humans—though their appearance made that assumption momentarily uncertain.
All three were noticeably taller and far more… slender—or perhaps refined—than everyone else around them. Their faces and figures seemed, I thought, almost excessively perfect.
In front walked a woman of piercing beauty, dressed in a long gown that emphasized rather than concealed her flawless, slender figure. The fabric resembled the finest scales; as she moved, it shimmered in cool tones—from turquoise to violet. Her hair was arranged in a high, immaculate coiffure, and the gaze of her large blue eyes was proud and cold, matching the palette of her attire.
The caption beside her read:
Elvina, Seventh Lady-in-Waiting to Her Majesty Queen Florianna; Special Envoy of the Royal Court of Christophers
Behind her followed two equally tall men, dressed in something midway between formal uniform and ceremonial costume. Yet one glance at their build and expressions erased any temptation to joke about their attire—or about them at all.
From the waist upward, each of them broadened almost twice toward the shoulders, their frames layered with massive, perfectly defined muscle. Their expressions were identical—what one might describe as professionally assessing the optimal point on your face for the first strike.
Their captions read:
Willem, Chamber Page of the Court of Christophers; Protector of the Crowned House
Bjorn, Senior Chamber Page of the Court of Christophers; Protector of the Crowned House
As the striking trio passed us, I noticed something odd:
All three of them were looking only at me.
A voice message from Art sounded quietly in my ear.
“Sixth Variant delegation. Elvina is part of the contact group representing one of their Royal Courts here. Don’t mind the severity—it’s mostly ceremonial. Protocol.”
I turned to glance at them once more and saw Willem glance back at me. His expression shifted instantly—suddenly ordinary, natural… even friendly.
The Chamber Page gave me the faintest wink, then turned away again.
A few moments later we reached a door bearing the inscription:
Conference Room 16
Reserved: Ellen
11:00–12:00