Mom nodded to Clare, acknowledging “Director,” before stepping out of the room with Chester in tow.

  “Be sure to stop by my office before you leave.”

  Clare returned the gesture with a slight inclination of her head, then watched Mom disappear down the sterile white hallway. She took a deep breath to bolster her professional fa?ade and stepped into the conference room. The door softly clicked shut behind her.

  “It’s good to see you again, Rachel. It’s just unfortunate that it’s under these circumstances. Rest assured, Cooperative Universal Publishing remains committed to fostering a safe, inclusive, and minimally hazardous working environment for all employees, whether salaried or contractual.”

  “Oh yes, I was so worried about the company’s reputation. I wouldn’t want anyone to think that CUP is negligent on the front of worker safety.”

  Undoubtedly trained not to acknowledge sarcasm under any circumstances, Clare gave me a controlled smile. “Thank you for expressing your concern,” she said warmly as she made her way to the head of the table and sat. “Now, why don’t we begin by discussing what happened?”

  She gestured at the chair I had been sitting in, then set down the large file she had carried, pulling out a sheet of paper full of some writing that I couldn’t read.

  “I’m dead,” I answered flatly, wiggling my fingers. “See? Ghost hands!”

  Clare pulled a pencil from behind her ear, which I swore hadn’t been there a moment ago.

  “While I’m glad you’ve retained your sense of humor during this challenging time, we’re looking for the facts leading up to your injury, Rachel. Temporary Body–Spirit Desynchronization can be alarming for the uninitiated, but it’s my understanding this has occurred to you several times previously.” She checked the page. “In fact, your propensity for astral projection during REM cycles may have contributed to your current condition.”

  She looked up, caught my damning glare, then visibly winced. “Of course, our employee health and wellness benefits cover pre-employment conditions as well as those that are job-acquired.”

  “You want the facts? Fine! I was slashed in the back by Holy Sage Relias, creation of Euphridia, and the one I was directed to trust.”

  She gestured for me to sit again. “How would you describe the slashing implement?”

  I folded my arms, refusing to sit down. “A scythe!”

  “Please describe the scythe in greater detail. If you know what it’s made from, and its size and dimensions, that would be very helpful.”

  “Demonic, containing animus that—wait, how in the hell is this helpful?!”

  “Well, for one, it would help me complete the form. There’s a lot of mandatory fields and—”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me! I don’t care about completing a form, I want to confront Euphridia so I can deliver my own final judgement!”

  Clare pressed her finger to the bridge of her glasses. “I’m afraid Euphridia is not available for direct communication.”

  “Then go get her.”

  “I cannot. Per HR Policy 7.12, any deity under active investigation is restricted from contacting employees or entering CUP premises.”

  “…Investigation?”

  “I’m not at liberty to elaborate.”

  “Why—”

  “HR Policy 7.12,” she repeated. “Now, would you say the incident was caused primarily by:

  A) Improper system design,

  B) Deficient process controls,

  C) Supervisory negligence,

  D) Bad faith actors in authority roles, or

  E) All of the above?”

  “Yes!”

  She checked multiple E without hesitation. “Noted. And how would you rate your overall sense of workplace safety at the time of the incident? Excellent, Good, Fair, Poor—”

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  “Completely absent!”

  “That’s not a selectable answer. I’ll choose ‘Poor’ for the question and add your quote as clarification in the comments field. Now—”

  PING. PING. PING.

  A phone buzzed from under the table. Clare slowly set her pencil down and withdrew the phone from her side jacket pocket. The side of her face twitched as she read, then she typed a response so fast and jarring I wasn’t sure the phone would survive the onslaught.

  PING.

  Clare flinched, then scowled.

  PING.

  Her shoulders deflated as she dropped the phone face-first onto the table.

  “Forget the form,” she muttered as she shoved it back into the file. “I was hoping that you’d find comfort in predictable bureaucracy as I do, but we simply don’t have the time to enjoy its meditation-like benefits.”

  “Huh? Did you seriously just say bureaucracy is a benefit?”

  Clare ignored my question. “The demonic animus locked in your chest will inhibit your ability to resynchronize with your body. Given its concentration, I’m afraid simple distraction and meditation techniques won’t be enough. I’ll have to refer you to an out-of-network specialist, and for that…” she trailed off.

  “And for that, what?”

  “I’ll need approval from—”

  The door to the conference burst wide open, pushed by none other than President Abrams himself. “Is this Conference Room B? I can never tell. Someone should label them, shouldn’t they?”

  Clare shot up out of her seat. “President Abrams!”

  “Clare Mercure! The director-of-many-hats!” He strode in, hands sweeping dramatically through the air. “Could you see to it that the conference rooms get—”

  “Sir, you need to sign the requisition form A-4032 that I’ve sent to you multiple times before!”

  “Oh, right, right!” He waved vaguely. “Can’t get the darn thing to print. Let’s go paperless. Get rid of all the—”

  He stopped mid ramble, finally seeing me. “Rachel. Far be it from me to have any dress code here at CUP, but… I’m not sure that accessory you’re wearing is in good taste.”

  I was so confused. “Accessory..?”

  “Oh, maybe you don’t know! It’s an old metaphysical sigil,” he chirped. “Symbolic of Entropy, Doom, Unmaking… Really popular with the youths.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Back in my day, we stuck with simple ankhs and peace signs.”

  Clare pressed her hand to her temple. “President Abrams,” she said through a slow, steady exhale, “Rachel does not bear a sigil of Chaos. She has a concentrated mass of demonic animus lodged in her sternum as the direct result of unsafe workplace conditions.”

  He blinked. “Ah. Well, that would explain all the… writhing it’s doing.”

  I threw my hands into the air. “Does everyone just accept this like it’s normal?!”

  “Oh heavens no,” he said brightly. “It’s a massive liability. But that’s why we’re here!” He dropped into the chair beside me. “But before I send you back, let’s talk about your performance review!”

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Clare inhaled sharply. “Sir, what Rachel requires right now is off-site treatment—”

  “Yes, yes, I already approved it. Couldn’t have come up with a better solution myself.” He tapped the chair next to him with his foot. “Come now, take a load off! I hear you haven’t taken a single day off since onboarding. Admirable—but burnout is real! These projects can get involved. Pull you apart at the seams, even.”

  I stared at him.

  Clare stared at him.

  But our combined glares didn’t faze him.

  I sank slowly into my chair, deciding, against my entire personality, to take the careful, controlled route for once.

  “Right. Performance review. Sure. But before we get too far into rating my… whatever-it-is I do here… I need to talk to you about your daughter.”

  President Abrams beamed, seemingly oblivious. “Ah, Euphy! Quite the scamp, isn’t she? Always wandering off, making little creative messes…”

  “This wasn’t merely a mess,” I said flatly. “President Abrams, she’s the one who directly assigned Epiales the Purpose of destroying everything that she loves.”

  He paused mid-gesture. “Go on.”

  “She told him he wasn’t supposed to exist. She branded him the origin of evil the moment she laid eyes on him. But he hadn’t done anything that I could see warranted such a fate! He just wanted to meet her to find out who he was and what he was supposed to do!”

  For the first time since I’d met him, President Abrams didn’t say a word.

  That’s it. I’m definitely fired.

  All light drained from his features. He slowly leaned back in his chair, his shoulders settling. “So,” he murmured. “That’s what happened.”

  I swallowed. “I would appreciate it if you informed my replacement about what I’ve uncovered. And at the very least, provide them the tools necessary to fix the problem safely.”

  “Replacement?” He blinked at me, genuinely baffled. Then he tilted his head. “You can’t quit now, Rachel. Think about Nora. How would she feel, after going through all that trouble to rescue and heal your body?”

  “…She what? How?!”

  He didn’t directly answer. “She’s been very invested in your well-being. Quite dedicated.” He tapped the table twice. “Frankly, it would be rather poor team cohesion to let her wake you up only to discover you’ve resigned.”

  “I—”

  “Besides, your contract doesn’t allow resignation during an active project. I’ll admit you’ve hit a major milestone. You managed to reboot NAUGHT into Single User Mode!” His bright, unbothered smile returned. “If anything, you’re overdue for a commendation. But I should probably meet with the entire team for something like that, perhaps at project closeout, once all milestones are met. You’re not doing it alone, are you?”

  “N-no, I’ve had help from—”

  “Right! We’ll hold off on bonuses until we can celebrate together as a team. Oh, but I will be sending you a care package soon. Chin up, and keep your eyes on the sky, okay, Rachel? Don’t let a minor setback like this get in your way.”

  “What are you—”

  He snapped his fingers once. Gravity ceased for me, and a bright white light swallowed everything.

  “President Abrams!” I heard Clare screech from a distance. “I didn’t get a chance to tell her where her body is!”