24

Nico leaned back in her chair, staring through the glass facade of her office. The pillars of smoke rising across the city marred an otherwise perfect view.

The newsreader's voice from the television cut through the background noise of her thoughts.

"...the authorities have confirmed an arrest. They believe the suspect acted alone and assure the public that the threat is contained."

"Well, that's a relief, Mark," replied the co-presenter. "But this is a dark day for democracy, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sarah. It certainly is. Let's recap what we know so far. Seven polling stations targeted, eleven dead, five critically injured. It remains unclear whether these attacks were politically motivated from a particular side or simply intended to disrupt the democratic process entirely—"

A knock at her office door interrupted the broadcast. Nico muted the TV without looking and called out, "Come in."

Jude entered the room, barely. "You wanted to see me?"

Nico gestured to the chair opposite her desk. "Sit."

Jude walked over and settled awkwardly into the seat, never quite committing to a posture. His fingers twisted together in his lap, eyes glancing at the muted television, then to Nico. "Is... everything alright?"

"No, Jude. Surprisingly, everything is not alright."

Nico rose from her chair, crossing to the window. "I fired Alice," she said abruptly.

Jude blinked. "Alice?"

"Effective immediately," Nico continued, her back to him. "She never really understood what we're doing here."

"Alice is one of the most brilliant programmers I've ever worked with."

"Ah," said Nico, turning to face him. "One of. But tell me, Jude—who is the most brilliant programmer on this team?"

His throat dried up. He knew where this was going, and he didn't like it. "I—uh—"

Nico's smile was thin, sharp as a blade. "That's right. It's you."

Jude opened his mouth to protest, but Nico held up a hand, cutting him off. "You are going to lead this department. Whatever comes out of this cloning project—whether it's Nova or something entirely new—you are going to be the face of it."

"I... what?" Jude stammered. "I don't—"

"Name your salary," said Nico, her voice like a whip. "Go on. Any number."

Jude stared at her, stunned into silence.

"Well?"

His mind was, to all appearances, almost completely blank.

"One... million?" he blurted, the words feeling surreal even as he said them.

"Yes! You've got it," Nico said brightly, as though this were a game and Jude had won. "A fine choice. One million it is."

Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, Nico was steering him toward the door, her hand firm on his back, her tone jubilant. "Congratulations, Jude. This is your moment. Don't let me down."

The door clicked shut with Jude on the other side, alone in the hallway.

Nico returned to her desk, her expression cooling as quickly as it had warmed. She unmuted the television.

"...13 confirmed dead," the presenter intoned. "We are now understanding from the latest reports—"

Nico muted it again, staring out at the skyline. Her reflection in the glass looked back at her, unflinching, unmoved.