The thoroughfare is unusually alive with traffic as Apricot races along the abundant streets deep in worry of her recent string of tardiness. She weaves a careful trot through the slow-moving crowd. To her dismay the source of the commotion appears to be a set of barricades blocking all movement. “Not today!” Apricot moans as she sprints up to the fence.

Both her hands find themselves on the barricade’s rail. “Hey, girl go around the other way.” a man in uniform shouts. On the other side, cleanup crews work zipping gory remains into bags. “This must be where the attack happened,” Apricot thought. “Didn’t you hear me?” The man yells. “Go around!” His hands now redirecting her back where she came.

With a sigh, she turns to face the morning street as if walking through a current in the wrong direction. Apricot slips through the unyielding people but made little headway. She knew of another rail line not on her usual route. Although it’s a few blocks away, and this rail did not stop at the university, but it is close enough.

After a short jog, the station was in sight but her heart dives when she sees the line has boarded passengers and room is becoming scarce. She bursts into a full sprint through the cluttered streets bumping into people with sailing apologies. Just before the doors close, a young man holds it clear with one arm and reaches out with the other.

Apricot picks up pace running faster as the cart speeds up, her hand outstretched reaching for the man’s open palm. He lunges forward gripping the side of the train’s door with one hand and clutching her fingers with the other. The young man lifts Apricot off the ground into the threshold of the train‘s closing doors before slamming shut behind her. “Hey there, almost missed your train.” He chuckles.

Apricot blushes saying “Yeah, thanks to you I didn’t.” He smirks looking her up and down, stopping at her bust for an ogle before returning to her eyes. “Oh great, he is a pervert.” She thought to herself.

“Got caught up in the detour, huh?”

She nods. “Mmmhmmm, so, did you?”

“Nah, but quite a few people were complaining about it. I kind of figured.” He uttered as he leans against the support pole with the other hand holding the headrail. “It’s crowded in here this morning. This route is usually empty, it’s kind of why I like it. With all these people, I feel a little uneasy.“

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Apricot bites her tongue not wanting to say anymore.

“What’s worse, I heard they had to shut down the whole system in Ginzu for repairs. A lightning storm during a robbery. What a load of shit. You ever see a freak lightning storm mess up a rail system?” Apricot shakes her head. “Yeah, I have not either.” A kind of silence visits for a brisk moment. She knew what kind of pause this is; the man is waiting for her to start a conversation, but her mood is not willing after being ogled. Huh, uncomfortable, sure, he knows all about it. Wrote the damn book on it. A sigh rolls from his mouth. “So, what brings you out this lovely morning?”

“Ah, I am going to uni. I ah, I’m studying journalism.” Apricot has always found herself proud of her chosen line of work. There is a certain level of trust between the government and the media that allowed for a careful but controlled relation between the two. Passing the state journalist exam is not an easy feat, especially for a foreigner such as herself.

The guy smirks. “Journalism huh?” he shrugs. “You got a camera?” The question struck Apricot as odd. Her eyebrows uncontrollibly squish together. “O’ I figured a journalist would be into photography. I got this camera I am trying to sell. Thought you might want to buy it.”

“Ah, no. I’m not looking to try photography.” A lie but she assumes the camera is stolen or broken.

The young man raises both arms behind his head stretching. “Oh yeah, well if you ever change your mind I ride the train almost every morning so ah come see me. The name is Cortez, just letting you know.” At first, Apricot thought he was coming onto her but after a moment Cortez waves. “Well, see you around ok.” Unexpectedly, he blends into the crowd of people losing himself among the timbered bodies.

~

A thin layer of sweat streaks across Apricot’s rosin cheeks. Her clothes soggy from the long jog into and through the university’s entrance courtyard. Her gaze meets an LCD screen displaying a government broadcast along with the current time boxed in the upper corner, “10:04 AM”. An intense anxiety comes over her as she rushes through the sparsely populated halls. One thing she had always noticed is how they twisted into something like a maze. It was as if the designers made the whole building to be as frustratingly confusing as possible. To intentionally cause hardship to students, let alone visitors. Like inside the vaults of each room are treasures hidden and the would be robbers would find themselves lost among the many turns unable to escape.

“The detour, they will keep the door open.” Apricot thought to herself; a solid attempt but failed woefully at easing any tension. Upon seeing the classroom door of 1403B, she could see her instructor Ms. Akagi has already drawn down the off-white paper shade. Her hand hovers just above the door nob. A deep breath fills her lungs as a silent selfish prayer goes out to the almighty for divine fortune. She twists the handle only to meet the resistance of locked metal fastens. With a grunt, she tries again hoping to will the door open, in vain, the knob only jiggles with little give.

Taking a few steps away from the door, Apricot lowers her head putting both hands on the sides of her cheeks. A tightness flowing down her face to her fingertips ending its stream at her toes. She drew in a long breath holding it for a moment before letting her air out with an even longer sigh. “Late again.”

~

Blue Ash on a weekday is not much unlike any other bustling city, a shadow of the population. Apricot passes by people dressed in the various fashions along a narrow lane. Smells of skewered barbecue over a charcoal grill fills the air. Every sidewalk edge is dotted with food carts and street vendors. The shops that line the road are very diverse selling trinkets, clothing, and consumer goods. This avenue has always appeared more like a hall of commerce to Apricot.

One shop that caught Apricot’s eye is a boutique window selling the latest style spread across mechanical dolls striking an assortment of poses. They look vaguely real to Apricot. Almost, it is in that small gap between the two she found so unsettling and wrong. Something about the eyes, they were dead, yet animate. The bustle of programmed synths diverts her attention to an arcade. “I have little else to do.” She considers, being drawn in by the blinking neon lights, she enters the somewhat dingy arcade.

Inside smells of a piped scent that attempts to cover the humid heat generated by a mix of body sweat and cigarette smoke. Spread across the walls are various flashing machines, each playing an assortment of tunes that blended together to form that iconic arcade sound. It’s a cacophony but has a pleasant ring that Apricot associated with a fun time. One game had been the flavor she is hoping will cheer her up. A side-scrolling hack and slash by Capnom called Queen Of Dragons.

The machines dim while a slight flicker comes over the screens. “Crap, the power is going out again.” A specter of breath fades into the open air from her mouth. Her skin crawls in the frigid air as if she had walked into a freezer. The cold fades as quickly as it appeared but not before causing all the systems to reset. Each one had started their boot sequences which invokes her to let out a whine of boredom. The appeal of battling against pixilated monsters has left and herself along aswell.

She continues to wander the vitrines until finding herself on an unfamilair side street. The shops around here are of another era; dusty old places that are long forgotten. She passes by a hardware store, an electronics boutique, a very shady looking pawn shop, second-hand stores, and a small market called Wiseman’s. A chain she had never even heard of.

The populace wandering the streets here are unlike the previous. If the one’s before were people without a care, these made her consider she may be in danger. After several men gave her unwelcome glances that said everything she needed to know, Apricot decides it would be best to get back onto a more populated street. When she went to turn the corner, she is welcomed by the sight of four guys kicking another man in the ribs. He barks out as each strike knocks his body from side to side. She stood with wide eyes of horror before shouting out “Stop!” As the guys turn to consider her, she realizes the folly of her reflexive action.

Now she had the audience of four rather hard-looking men. The tallest one delivers a final kick into the guys face. “Yeah, let’s get out of here. Remember to have the rest of it punk. If not, get the hell out of town or else.” All four men walk toward Apricot her throat growing tight. Without so much as a glance, the four walk past her. She looks down at the man. He spits a line of blood from his mouth.

As she stares at the guy on the ground, it shocks her to recognize him. It’s the guy she talked to on the train. Apricot narrows her eyes saying “Are you alright? Do I need to call the cops?”

“No.” He groans while getting to his feet. “Don’t do something stupid like that. Stay out. It’s none of your business, reporter.” Without even regarding her, he limps out of the back street. Apricot wanted to go with him to at least make sure he is ok, but she knew it is best if she didn’t. Getting involved with people like that can get you hurt, sometimes worse. Unlike most, Apricot appreciated the unseen. Her wish to become a journalist had brought out a pseudo-respect that some things are best left unknown.

After several streets, Apricot sees a familiar sign “Utopian Theaters” and knows where she is. Further down the road is a small cafe called “Hot Shots.” Upon entering a strong scent of brewed espresso greets Apricot. Inside the decor, a pleasant chocolate wood accented with soft greens and red pastel windows. Light music canvases the senses allowing for privacy but not enough to drain out your thoughts. As she walks to the counter, the smell of fresh baked goods wafts through her nostrils causing an almost Pavlovian salivation to occur. “Hey girl, I thought you had school.” Apricot looks up to see the bright blue eyes of Bonni Willox one of her best friends from high school.

“Bonni!” Apricot chirps with delight reaching over the countertop to give a warm hug. “I did not know you worked here?”

“Yeah, well, I needed a part-time job, turns out you can’t be a movie star without having one.” she laughs. “So what brings you here?”

“I was late for class, stupid detour blocked my train,” Apricot shrugs.

Bonni leans over whispering “I got a story for you. I overheard the cops talking about that. They spoke of the Okabe officials being real upset about not getting the robber alive. Instead though, they didn’t refer to them as a robber but rather “the witch”. A little odd considering the circumstances. How out of place is a freak lightning storm? And how many people died?”

Apricot gives a smirk. “How is that a story? Sounds more like a story for a novel.”

“Heh, well normally I would agree but the way they were chatting about it was not like the typical upset they had to kill her but… like they wanted her for some reason. Kept saying they had a deadline to bag one.” Bonni leans over onto the counter drumming her fingers against the polished wood. “I will tell you more about it later but right now is there anything I can get you?”

Apricot nods her head before placing a finger on her cheek. “Just a coffee with Vanilla and a spot of half-and-half.”