.
.
.
"Echo?"
Topher closed the door to his office, bleary-eyed from the night before. He'd been testing the hypothesis that imprinted neurons functioned more efficiently than original neurons. Virtually, of course, which took waaay longer than it could have, given all the actives walking around.
Actives wondering into his space.
He sighed, vowing revenge on Ivy for not locking the door before she left. Any menial data recording task would do the trick.
Echo turned from the window. "I can see everything."
"That's pretty much the point," he responded, high-pitched condescension in his voice.
It was too early for this. He took a deep breath, inwardly searching for his post-wipe calm.
"Is there something you were… looking for?" He descended the stairs and gestured toward the window. "Cause it's all… down there, you know? Not up here. Where we are."
"They can't see what I see." She turned to him, expression darkening. "I can see everything."
Topher never saw the fist that knocked him out.
.
.
.
.
.