Four days passed in a gauzy haze, as Iris struggled with repeated bouts of panic, fear, and exhaustion. The Wayward Traveler who had stalked her at the bus station had vanished into the crowds, but could appear at any time, and terrorize her whenever it suited him. Even the thought of him attacking her left Iris skittish and on edge, and her eyes and spirit hollowed as the days wore on.
Her roommates noticed a change in her personality immediately and leveraged different methods to comfort Iris during these challenging times. Zayzann tried to hug and snuggle with Iris, but his affection was met with winces and cowering. Khazmine opted to perform rounds of surveillance at night and report her activities each morning. The only efforts that bore any positive response were from Byxx.
“I know it feels like there’s nothing else you can do, but you’re mistaken.” Byxx corralled Iris into the backyard near the shady tree after she got home from work that evening. He assumed a defensive position ten feet away from Iris and braced for impact. “You’re a lot stronger than you think, and I’m going to prove it to you. Now, attack me.”
“I can’t.” Iris protested.
“You can’t because you think you’re weak, or because you’re worried about hurting me?” Byxx countered. He goaded her on to use the moves that he and Khazmine had slowly demonstrated for Iris to learn from. “It can’t be both, dearest. Come on, show me what you’ve got.”
Iris charged ferociously with her frail, tiny body and pounced on Byxx with the force of a gentle breeze. Though the damage was minimal, her strikes landed exactly where they needed to, and Byxx rubbed at each little welt Iris left near his joints and tender spots.
“Good effort, love. That’s the ticket.” Byxx congratulated Iris on her first sparring match. Iris collapsed to the ground and sat herself into a half lotus pose to catch her breath, until Byxx handed her a chilled bottle of icy water. “There you go. Your form is excellent, but we need to increase the strength of your strikes.”
“I can’t do it any harder, Byxx.” Iris allowed her head to droop, while beads of sweat glistened on her face and neck. “I’m too weak.”
“Nonsense.” Khazmine interjected from the sidelines. She descended from her viewing post on top of one of the darkened tree branches and landed effortlessly on the ground below. “Once you’re properly nourished and rested, your strength will improve, I assure you.”
It was a cold comfort for Iris, who worried about her failing health daily. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe the Augment, but the evidence to the contrary was too strong to ignore. Anxiety kept Iris from eating well, and frequent nightmares haunted her sleep. It seemed impossible to improve under such conditions. Sensing Iris’s despair, Khazmine hustled her inside the apartment and into the spare room for a private chat.
“You don’t have to be physically strong to benefit from what I’m about to tell you, understand?” Khazmine checked the door to confirm they were alone and huddled close to whisper secret instructions under the watchful eye of her half-finished paintings. “…The little bump behind my left ear, feel it? Don’t press it yet. Wait until I tell you.”
It was difficult to understand the mechanics behind her explanation, but Khazmine had provided a “last resort” for her to try, if she were ever close enough to Cruxuss in the future. Iris’s delicate finger grazed the raised area behind Khazmine’s ear and traced its outline with a trembling hand.
“All Augments have an emergency shut-down mechanism that will reinitialize them into a ‘safe state.’” Khazmine whispered. “It’s for preventing unit loss, like… I know it won’t make sense if I simply explain it… Look, I want you to push the button.”
“What? No, I can’t.” Iris backed away and Khazmine allowed her to retreat without forcing their proximity.
“Yes, you can.” Khazmine slowly paced forward and reached out for Iris’s hand. With elegant easiness and a reassuring smile, Khazmine directed Iris’s finger to linger by her ear. “I will likely fall to the ground and stop moving for about thirty seconds. It is fine. I trust you, little one.”
Iris didn’t want to do it, not one bit. If there was a chance of something going wrong, she wanted to avoid hurting Khazmine at all costs. An electrical tingle danced along the length of her hand where she grazed Khazmine’s plates. Only the button was safe from energy discharges.
“Go on, Iris.” Khazmine closed her eyes and allowed her tensed, rattling plates to go slack at her mistress’s touch. “It’s going to be all right.”
The button indented as Iris pressed it, and she recoiled reflexively in an instant. Sure enough, the Augment crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap at Iris’s feet. Khazmine closely resembled a marionette with severed strings, silently awaiting the promised moment when she would come to life again.
Iris counted thirty seconds with a hushed voice but couldn’t stop herself from crying once the interval had passed. Thinking the worst, she knelt to the floor and grasped Khazmine into her embrace.
“I’m sorry.” Iris shook as she cried. A firm pressure cupped at her back, and she recognized the alien feeling as Khazmine’s best attempt at a hug. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, little one.” Khazmine crackled to life. A series of orange warning lights flashed in front of her eyes and faded away. “You did an excellent job. All I ask is that you remember this lesson and keep it a secret, all right?”
Iris’s throat closed as her eyes filled with fresh tears so much that all she could manage was a weak nod at the Augment. Khazmine’s gloved hand cupped Iris’s face and the creaky leather brushed an errant tear from tumbling down her reddened cheek.
“He has one too, mistress.” Khazmine explained. “All you have to do is press hard and run away. Count to twenty and hide where you can. He will be able to hear you if you keep running.”
“W-what do I do then?” Iris’s deep brown eyes stared helplessly into Khazmine’s.
“Call for help, if you can.” Khazmine reassured her. “I can stay near you, if you’d like.”
Iris didn’t respond verbally. Instead, she clenched hard at her friend, surprising Khazmine with a desperate hug. The Augment’s eyes went wide at the enthusiastic contact, but she had to admit that it wasn’t unwelcome.
Long after Iris left the office, Mr. Cavendish supervised the buzzing hive of activity from a well-organized, efficient group of contractors. He hadn’t expected them to continue working after business hours and shook his head admiringly at the troupe of skilled tradesmen who routed cables and mounted cameras to the walls. True to his word, Mr. Reegan had recommended the best security company that money could buy and gave his personal reference for GC&S to receive premium installation and monitoring services.
Highly sophisticated cameras were positioned in all corners of the office, with even the executive offices and C-suite included in the targeted areas. Apart from the bathrooms and private offices, GC&S had nearly 360-degrees of coverage that could be monitored from any computer with the appropriate clearance, including Mr. Cavendish’s laptop.
An official, corporate-looking login screen greeted Mr. Cavendish, who entered his credentials and accessed the functional cameras in a four-by-four grid on his computer. From this gallery view, he could see the workers installing additional units, Mr. Declan from Human Resources heading out for the night, and the vending machine stockers refilling the snack machine in the kitchenette. The monitor also gave him advanced warning of the regrettable approach of a fabulously stylish and uncommonly cold Mrs. Cavendish before she reached his office.
Despite being his mother, Mrs. Cavendish was a businesswoman first and a patient caregiver second. She had a chilly, harsh personality, wrapped in a beautiful veneer of urbane gentility, which chafed against Alden and his little brother for most of their lives. For as long as he could remember, Alden Cavendish had forced himself to fit the narrow roles his stern mother had prescribed for him. He knew no peace from day to day unless it served Barbara Cavendish and her interests. Without having to look up at her, Alden could sense that Mrs. Cavendish was bent on criticizing her eldest son for his latest “waste” of company resources.
“Good evening.” Barbara didn’t bother knocking on his door before entering. She made herself comfortable on the luxurious Italian sectional and poked at the gilded jade hair stick that she favored above all other accessories. “I imagine you can guess why I’m here.”
“Indeed, mother.” Mr. Cavendish had spent the better part of the afternoon bracing for this impending conversation and had already prepared a series of responses to any of his mother’s objections. “No doubt it is due to the rampant contractor activity in the office. I trust you’ve reviewed the memo I intend to bring up at the next partners meeting.”
“I have. But I cannot say I entirely approve.” Barbara crossed her legs on the sectional to find a more appropriate position, as the opulent leather was too soft and cushy for her present comfort. “I realize that you don’t need my permission to reallocate the office budget, but I would have thought you’d make better use of it than this.”
Ah, antagonism it is then. Alden remarked as Barbara took the offensive. Very predictable of you, mother.
“There’s been a spate of product leaks and lost clients over the last two years.” Mr. Cavendish leaned over his desk to hand Barbara a padfolio with several stapled reports tucked inside of it. “By my count, we’ve lost millions in billings, opportunity costs, and conversion from within these walls. If we don’t curb these problems now, our next quarterly meeting will be to discuss our respective funerals.”
“So, your strategy to combat this espionage is to add expensive surveillance equipment?” Barbara raised an eyebrow and skimmed over the reports.
“Partly. I intend to institute several new measures to help bolster our defenses.” Alden pivoted from the expense of the units to the benefit they could provide, then went on the offensive against Barbara herself. “We need to stop focusing on a loss aversion mindset, mother. Let’s be honest here. You’re more worried about losing a few thousand dollars to preventative measures than you are about earning many times that after we lock everything down.”
“That’s a rather bold assessment.” Barbara sneered. She slid the padfolio back on Mr. Cavendish’s desk and reclaimed her seat on the sectional.
“We’re burning dollars to count pennies, mother.” Mr. Cavendish pressed, knowing full well how much Barbara Cavendish despised wasting time, effort, and most of all, money. “Give it some time, and I know we can start clawing our way back from these setbacks.”
“I hope you’re right.” Barbara scoffed without an ounce of sincerity in her voice. This conversation had grown incredibly tedious to her, especially when she realized that she was losing ground for her argument. “I expect to be kept apprised of your progress.”
Mr. Cavendish’s eyes narrowed as Barbara sauntered out of his office. She clearly had little faith in his attempts to save GC&S from ruin, but he was not discouraged by her dismissive appraisal. With her blessing or without it, Mr. Cavendish was relentlessly determined to save his family’s company from destruction. If nothing else, he wanted to hear a hint of approval or praise from her, as Barbara was historically stingy with giving either one out since he was little.
He leaned back into his executive task chair and sighed deeply as the contractors worked on their installations long into the night. Tomorrow was sure to be a long day, and Mr. Cavendish steeled himself for whatever hardship was coming his way.
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