Halberg Infrastructure Systems — Containment Wing C, Break Room

  November 10th, 2038 — 11:12 GMT

  The break room was too clean for what had just happened in it.

  Someone had brought in a battered thermos that smelled like real coffee, not the lab-issued stuff, and it sat open on the counter like a minor act of rebellion. Jackets hung off the backs of chairs. Helmets were stacked in a corner, one of them still faintly damp.

  Price kicked her boots out in front of her and leaned back.

  “So,” she said, staring at the ceiling, “on a scale from one to haunted warehouse mannequin, I’m giving that thing a solid seven.”

  Patel snorted and nearly spilled his cup.

  “Seven?” he said. “You’re generous.”

  Howard leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching the exchange with open interest.

  “What would you rate it?”

  Patel thought about it.

  “Six and a half. Loses points for posture. Looked like it had a chiropractor appointment it missed.”

  Price laughed.

  “That head tilt,” she said. “I don’t know who signed off on that, but it felt like it was about to ask me for directions.”

  Julie sat at the small table, her clipboard untouched for once. She let the conversation roll, eyes tracking posture and tone more than words.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “What was the first thing you thought?” she asked, gently.

  Patel didn’t answer right away.

  “That it was too quiet,” he said finally. “No breathing. No gear noise. Even the good rigs make noise.”

  Price nodded.

  “Yeah. In smoke, silence means one of two things. Either someone’s very calm, or something’s very wrong.”

  Howard smiled faintly.

  “Usually the second.”

  Patel pointed at him with his cup.

  “Exactly.”

  Price leaned forward.

  “But once it stopped moving, I was fine,” she said. “When it just stood there. That helped.”

  Julie looked up.

  “Why?”

  Price shrugged.

  “Because then it felt like it was waiting. Not deciding for me.”

  Howard’s expression shifted, thoughtful.

  “That’s interesting.”

  Patel took another sip, then grimaced.

  “This coffee still tastes like it was filtered through an old sock.”

  Howard laughed quietly.

  “Halberg will be crushed.”

  Price stretched her shoulders.

  “I’ll say this, though. If that thing had yelled ‘this way’ in a human voice, I probably would have followed it without thinking.”

  Patel raised an eyebrow.

  “Even if it sounded weird?”

  “Especially if it sounded weird,” she said. “We follow plenty of people who sound weird.”

  Julie smiled at that, just a little.

  She made a note, then closed the folder and set it aside.

  “You don’t mind if I ask one more thing?” she said.

  Patel waved a hand.

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you worry it might replace you?” she asked.

  Price frowned, then shook her head.

  “No,” she said. “I worry more that it might fail me.”

  Patel nodded.

  “That’s fair.”

  Howard straightened from the counter.

  “That’s better than most first drafts,” he said. “People included.”

  Price smirked.

  “Yeah. People come with worse bugs.”

  They sat in companionable silence.

  The fog smell was fading now, replaced by coffee and worn fabric and the low hum of a building doing ordinary things.

  Julie gathered her clipboard.

  “That’s all for today,” she said. “Thank you. For your honesty.”

  Patel stood and reached for his helmet.

  “Anytime,” he said. “Just tell whoever’s building it that if it learns sarcasm, we’re doomed.”

  Price grinned.

  “And maybe teach it how to swear. That would help.”

  Howard opened the door for them.

  “We’ll put it on the list,” he said.

  After they left, Julie looked at the empty chairs.

  “They trusted us,” she said quietly.

  Howard nodded.

  “That’s the part you don’t rush.”

  And for the first time since the silhouettes powered on, the work felt like it belonged to the real world again.