Magic in Life

By Danielle Peters

The mist has swallowed up the world. Here, danger lurks everywhere. Ancient Kings and strange creatures exist. Everyone opens the mist to survive and gains the ability to offer sacrifices to the gods and receive rewards.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danielle Peters
• Release date: Apr 1, 2025
• ISBN: 9798349312458

Book preview

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

To my husband Kyle and my children

Declan, Gavin, and Delaney

The best family I could ever ask for,

except on game nights.

Success in creating effective AI could be the biggest event in the history of our civilization. Or the worst. We just don’t know. So, we cannot know if we will be infinitely helped by AI, or ignored by it and sidelined, or conceivably destroyed by it.

—Danielle Peters

Chapter 1

Harper

February 19, 2019

only thought about the futility of life while stuck in standstill traffic. It sucked all the happiness, optimism, and love right out of my body like bugs chomping away at the muscular tissue of a corpse, leaving nothing but bones. I was one forlorn skeleton.

The line of cars to my right began to move. I considered squeezing in between a truck and a sedan, where there had been the tiniest space, but I hesitated, and my window of opportunity vanished. My friend Priti would have edged into a gap half the size, sending the other driver into fits of honking. I could have used some of her boldness this evening. Instead, I stayed politely in my lane.

Thinking of Priti riled me up even more. How could she have agreed to go out with Jason? While both of us thought he was hot and had both mercilessly flirted with him since he opened his bakery down the street from work, we had agreed I should be the one to date him. After all, her parents might struggle to accept her dating a Jewish boy, while my parents craved one like a reluctant vegetarian craves bacon.

Taking I-95 had been a mistake, just like the entire day had been. Why had I called Priti a bitch? I had never called someone that in my entire life. But she deserved it. Right? Or maybe I was just bitter and jealous like she said.

I flipped on the air-conditioning to escape my rising body temperature. Cold air shot out of it, and remnants of joy awoke inside me. The cars surrounding me weren’t so bad. It wasn’t Priti’s fault that Jason chose her. If he had asked me, she would have been thrilled.

At that moment, I decided to apologize. I would get off this forsaken highway and drive straight to her apartment. It still hurt that she so eagerly accepted the date, even though she knew I liked him, but our friendship was more important than a guy.

I went to turn on my blinker to get off the highway at the next exit, but movement near my steering wheel caught my eye. I leaned over to identify a dark blob protruding from my air vent.

A black-and-red tongue greeted me like a two-pronged whip, and my heart stopped.

I screamed at my air vent interloper. Bloodcurdling. Then I locked eyes with the guy in the truck beside me as I continued to shriek in agony and horror. He recoiled as if he had witnessed a banshee driving a Honda Civic.

Snake! I yelled.

He couldn’t hear me or help me. I was on my own with the scariest creature I had ever encountered. While Boca Raton had its fair share of lizards and snakes, I had never been close enough to kiss one.

I tried to pull over, but the swiftly moving right lane had come to a dead stop. Should I just hop out and run? I didn’t want to endanger anyone else by abandoning my vehicular duties, just because a freaking snake had claimed my car. At the same time, a freaking snake had claimed my car!

Call Mom.

I looked for an opening in the line of cars to my right, but that meant I couldn’t keep an eye on the snake, which now stuck farther out than before. My mom’s phone rang.

Hey, Harper—

Oh my God, Mom. A snake’s crawling out of the vent in my car.

A snake? In your car? she asked, mirroring my frantic tone.

It’s literally giving me a heart attack right now. I tried to squeeze over to the next lane, but a woman in a Lexus rejected me and then glared at me on top of it.

Are you sure it’s a snake? Sometimes worms can get really big. My friend Patty—

Worms? Patty? What was she talking about? Mom, it’s a million feet long and wider than a garden hose. I’m stuck in traffic and need help.

Hold on. Benji, come here quick, my mom yelled to my dad. Run!

The wretched thing slinked toward the window. Its head bobbed and tapped against it. The banana I had eaten for breakfast threatened to rush back up my throat and out of my mouth, Exorcist-style.

I think I might barf. Is barf a snake deterrent?

If it was, I would have no qualms covering my entire body with puke.

Don’t vomit in your car, Cookie, Mom said. That smell will never come out.

It won’t matter if I’m dead.

Don’t say that. Here’s Dad.

You okay, Cookie? Dad asked in his deep, booming voice.

Oh God, it just looked at me.

Why had I turned on the air-conditioning? While I was on regrets, why had I cleaned my car over the weekend? I had left all the doors open for an hour or so under the Ficus tree in front of my condo to air it out, but in reality, I snaked it up.

Tell me about the snake. Dad’s soothing voice did nothing to calm me. Does it have a diamond-shaped head or stripes?

I risked a glance at it to check. It stared back at me.

It’s solid black. Like death. I pictured my parents sitting shiva and felt light-headed. I want you guys to know that I love you very much and you’ve been the best parents ever.

Harper! Stop panicking. It’s probably a black racer. They’re harmless. Mom’s on the phone with Triple A. Get over to the side of the road.

I’m trapped.

Force it. Dad used the same tone as when he advised a client for court.

He was right. I had twenty-five years of life experiences under my belt. Unfortunately, after a quick inventory of my expertise, I realized that software engineering, reading, and Minecraft provided me with zero survival skills against snakes in a car.

Still, I couldn’t go down without a fight. I reached though the steering wheel to turn on my right blinker. The dude beside me refused to let me in, but I edged over into his lane anyway. He honked.

Let me in, shithead turdface. I included a middle finger, but it hadn’t been a conscious decision. I was operating on pure instinct.

Dad chuckled. You okay?

Forcing it, I said with a grunt. The car finally yielded. He must have seen the crazed look in my eyes. Or maybe he saw the snake. It was stretched across my window at that point. Its head was so close to mine, I worried that soon we would be cheek-to-cheek, singing Shallow like Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper. If only it had been Bradley Cooper that crawled out of my air vent.

I reached the shoulder, and it took all my patience to press the brake and bring the car to a stop. As I shifted to park, everything went dark. My body felt suspended in air. My heartbeat thumped in my ears.

A male voice boomed inside my head. Okay, Prayze. Time to wake up.

Who’s there? Was someone in my car? Was it the snake? Had I become a Parselmouth?

My sight cleared again, and my windshield swam into view. Tingles ran from the top of my head out to my fingertips.

What’s going on? Dad asked, his voice sounding distant.

Something’s happening. My breaths were shallow, like I couldn’t get enough air.

Harper, talk to me. My dad didn’t overreact to anything, but panic now filled his voice. I wanted to reply, to reassure him, but my entire body felt paralyzed. The snake had bitten me. That had to have been it.

Goodbye, cruel world. Screw you, evil serpent.

The car faded. This time I couldn’t keep myself from falling in the darkness. My belly tickled as I did, and in an instant, everything went black.

When I awoke, I struggled to remember what happened. The blackness … the car … the snake. My eyes shot open. Glossy white walls greeted me instead of the interior of my car. I must have been taken to a hospital after the bite.

But the room didn’t look quite like a hospital room. One small table sat near the window with a clear box on top, but there was nothing else in the room. No heart monitor, no rails on the bed, no television. Weren’t hospitals required by law to have a TV?

There we go, a man said in a smooth voice that reminded me of Chef from South Park.

Holy cow, what a handsome man. He was a ringer for the Latin heartthrob I saw on the cover of a steamy romance novel in the grocery store. Not that I read that kind of stuff. My reading interests were more cultivated than that. I had only been waiting to get a refund on some recalled lettuce and had thumbed through it out of boredom. And continued to thumb through it at home that night.

I licked my lips, which didn’t need it because they weren’t dry at all. When I raised my head, the man pulled me up to a sitting position on the bed. At least, I thought it was a bed because of its softness, but it didn’t have any sheets or blankets.

Where am I? I sounded strange. The scratchy edge my voice had acquired from chronic sore throats as a kid had disappeared. I grabbed my throat and tested my voice again. Hello?

We have to leave now, he said.

Leave? But where am I?

Was I in a psychiatric ward with padded furniture and barren walls? I checked to see if I was dressed in a straitjacket, but instead I wore a black lacquer get-up like Catwoman.

Strange, but also kind of cool.

Irrelevant, Chef said. It’s not safe here.

What do you mean irrelevant? I frowned. Where’s my mom and dad?

They’re not here. He reached down to pick up something from the ground. Let’s go now. Before they detect.

Before who detects? My mom and dad?

No. Just trust me.

He tossed a pair of black shoes at me, and they landed on my lap. They were sleek and simple, like swimming shoes. The material resembled shiny plastic but felt like rubbery spandex.

While my clothes and shoes were strange, what really made me panic was my own hands. I fanned them out in front of me. The shoes slipped off my lap and tumbled on the floor.

My fingernails were perfect, all the same length and healthier than I’ve ever seen them.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Chef peered at my hands. What?

My hands look different!

They look fine.

No, they’re not fine. And why do these two fingers look weird? On my left hand, my pointer and bird-flipper fingers had larger, rounder middle knuckles than the same fingers on my right hand—like they had been transplanted from someone else, but without a trace of a scar.

We don’t have time for this. I’ll explain later. He retrieved my shoes from the floor and shoved them in my hands.

I want my hands back. What have you done to me? What is this place?

I hopped off the bed and landed solidly on the ground. Like, I commanded the ground. The ground was my bitch. When I looked down at my feet, I caught the first full view of my body.

Whoa. Instead of my stubborn jelly belly that remained no matter how much I exercised, my stomach was flat. I rested my hand on it and could feel the muscles underneath. When I raised my shirt, a six-pack stared back at me. What the hell? I’m …

I couldn’t think of the word. Skinny? Fit? No, it was more than that. My biceps bulged under the tight-fitting sleeve of my shirt. I’m buff.

I know this is weird for you. The guy stepped toward me. He had a sweet, woody smell that made my stomach flutter. I yanked you out physically, but your mind is still in the simulation. But I did it to protect you, so please trust me. I’ll explain when we are safe, but right now we must go. With or without shoes.

Simulation? What simulation?

Your life as … He held his palms up at me with a questioning look. What’s your name?

Harper.

Your life as Harper was a simulation. He tugged my arm. Your name is Prayze Hale. Come on.

Prayze? That snake had said that name in the car. I shrugged away from him. I don’t understand.

Any minute now, drones will come crashing through that door and take you into custody. He raised his eyebrows. Does that sound fun to you?

Not really.

What if these drones rip your arms out of their sockets?

Okay, not fun. I crossed my arms over my body. But I need answers.

Once we’re safe, he said. I promise.

Fine. I begrudgingly slid on the shoes. They conformed to each foot like thick, rubbery socks.

Chef started to turn toward the door, then paused to examine me. People will recognize your hair.

Of course they would. My long, dark hair was legendary—my one decent feature. But when I reached for it at my shoulder, I found air instead. I made it up to my chin before I found any.

You cut my hair? I could go along with his drones-coming-to-get-me shtick, but this went too far. You son of a bitch. I’m going to—

Chef put his finger in front of his lips, and the fierce dip in his brow convinced me it was best to shut my mouth for the time being.

I vowed to not let the hair debauchery go unpunished.

At least it felt healthy, but I couldn’t run my fingers through it because they kept getting caught in curls. I always had wavy hair, but these were tight curls. Did he give me a perm too? Was Chef some kind of alternative hairdresser? Did his shampoo have hallucinogenic drugs in it?

A whirring sound emanated from the box I had seen on the table. Inside it, a fly spun around something on the pedestal in the middle. I realized it wasn’t a fly, but instead, a tiny drone the size of a fly. It spun around, cutting different directions, zigzagging back and forth. Every few seconds, it dipped down into a small square of what looked like black Jell-O before resuming its darting around the object in the middle. It took me a minute to determine what it was making. A plain black baseball cap.

A 3-D printer? I squatted down in front of it to watch the small drone’s mesmerizing movements. I’ve never seen one like this. I’ve never seen a drone this small.

Once it finished, he took the cap out and handed it to me. It felt rubbery like the shoes.

Put it on, and tuck in your hair.

I hated wearing hats. They squeezed my brain and made it hard to think, but I needed answers and for my arms to remain snug in their sockets. I tucked my scant amount of hair into the cap and walked over to the large corner window in the room.

We towered above a sparkling city. People looked like ants. Despite my anxiety about how high we were, I couldn’t look away. In the bright sun, everything looked so clear. It could have been computer generated. The buildings had bulges of green plants interspersed with the mirrored windows. Directly below us, a canal resembling the lazy river at a waterpark wound between the buildings. I didn’t recognize a single thing.

Let’s go, Chef said. Don’t make eye contact with anyone, but keep your head up, like you belong here.

I tore my gaze away from the view. I don’t even know your name. What if we get separated?

We won’t get separated. He paused, then said, My name is Dalian.

millions of stars speckled the dark sky surrounding me. The roller rink course laced through them like tangled neon-green string. I sped down the ramp, and the wind blew my curly hair away from my eyes, providing me with a clear view of the multistory loop that loomed before me. This time I would not fall off and plummet down to the giant fluffy loser pillow waiting below. I hated that thing and all that it implied.

I squatted down, tucked my arms close to my body, and shrank my neck down into my shoulders. The wheels on my skates hummed on the frictionless surface. This obstacle had bested me the last two times I attempted it. I refused to let that happen again.

Concentrate, Prayze, Dalian’s voice echoed all around me unseen.

What the hell did he think I was doing?

Dalian designed the best simulations, but he was sneaky and loved surprises. One time, he had a jubilant clown pop up and throw a banana-cream pie into my face as I was about to defuse a bomb to save a building full of sad-eyed puppies. Luckily, I still cut the correct wire as whipped cream dripped down my face.

I entered the loop at a furious speed. When I reached the top, my skates lifted off the track. My stomach tickled at the weightless feeling. I hunched further, squeezing every muscle, trying to avoid the same fall as my previous tries. After a few seconds, my skates made contact with the track again, and I finished the loop faster than I had started it. Yes!

The next summit was a cinch, which meant something bad awaited me on the other side. I flew down the slope. At the bottom, it looked like a normal valley, but then the track vanished, leaving a black, empty chasm.

I could handle a jump. You aren’t getting me that easily, Dalian.

His laughter filled my head.

I didn’t handle it. I must have eased off my speed a hair too much at the end, and Dalian must have measured the distance of the jump down to the millimeter because my feet sailed under the edge by inches. My stomach caught the track full force. It reared back like a rubber band and shot me flailing backward over the course I had already traversed.

After an eternal fall, I sank into the cursed pillow Dalian had dubbed the Cushion of Failure, a feature in all of his simulations.

Damn it. I huffed and slammed my fists into the bright-pink cloth. You cheated.

You know I don’t cheat, Dalian said.

Only a cheater would say that. I stood up on the pillow and crossed my arms over my chest.

And only a sore loser would accuse someone of cheating when they fail. Dalian laughed. Want to go again? I have a feeling this one will be it.

No, I’m done.

I would have kept going until I tackled it, but I didn’t like the sore loser comment. My dislike of failure was normal, healthy even, and rarely resulted in me hurling things at people’s heads. Dalian just happened to be horrible at dodging tennis rackets. Not my fault.

But thanks for the interesting wake-up call, I said. Would have been better if you hadn’t cheated.

I didn—

Exit.

The simulation dropped. I opened my eyes to the white ceiling of my apartment.

The forecast along the top of my vision said it would be a hot, dry July day. My bodily statuses said that other than mild dehydration from the night’s sleep, all my blood levels were within the appropriate range.

That morning I had to lead the Enhancement Ceremony for the new adults that had reached twenty-one in the past month. There were many aspects to my job that I enjoyed, but leading ceremonies was not one of them. I would much rather put my head down and solve problems all day long.

Unfortunately, there weren’t many issues left to solve in our city. The near utopia we had created in the past decades left few challenges for an engineer like me to tackle, but I didn’t dare abdicate my post. How could I step away from my greatest achievement? Would everything fall apart without me?

And even scarier, what would I do if I wasn’t leading the city? I had nothing beyond my work. It defined me.

I put those thoughts aside like I did every time they popped up. One day I would have to answer those questions, but not today.

Open EET, I commanded.

A door on the wall beside my bed slid open, revealing a gelatinous nutrition pad. EET stood for Energy Exchange Touchpoint. I pressed my hand into it up to my wrist to transfer nutrients and waste in and out of my body. The cool gel glowed yellow for a few seconds then morphed to blue.

My Biological Enhancing Atomic Machines handled the exchange. BEAMs coursed through the body of every adult citizen of the city. They healed almost every sickness or injury, gave us extra strength and brainpower, and optimized every system of our bodies—bypassing some entirely. Looking at you, respiratory, endocrine, and digestive systems.

Citizens received BEAMs when they turned twenty-one. In the past, thousands of people became adults each month. That was before we put limitations on childbirth to keep the already dense city from outstripping the resources needed to run it. Now when an Enhancement Ceremony occurred, fewer than ten people received their BEAMs.

When the gel changed to green, I removed my hand, and its imprint disappeared.

A door beside my EET opened, revealing a cubicle with fresh pack of clothing. I changed quickly—the old clothes identical to the new ones—then placed the discards back inside the cubicle.

How about a consolation prize? A message from Dalian filled the center of my vision. I’m a block away from your place.

I smiled. Dalian was a great guy and made me happy. I should be enamored with him and wished I was. It would be so easy. However, my heart belonged to someone else and probably always would.

Connection Request from Representative Itsuki Ono. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my body. We didn’t have a meeting scheduled for today. Itsuki, my lead representative, only reached out spontaneously when there was a pressing issue.

I accepted the connection request. Good morning, Itsuki.

Good morning, Ambassador Hale, Itsuki said. We have a problem.

I was one of three ambassadors who represented the citizens of the city to Akila, the artificial intelligence that ruled our city of twenty million people. Each ambassador had twenty representatives who reported to them. In turn, each representative had two hundred collectors who gathered feedback from the public, which they escalated as necessary to inform the ambassadors of what the public needed and wanted.

Go ahead, I said.

I have an important update on the recent increase in citizen departures, Itsuki said. My collectors confirmed sixty-five departures in the past two weeks.

There were ten villages spaced randomly outside the city wall, well beyond the areas monitored by the city. The people occupying the villages—Naturals as we called them—lived without modern technology, including BEAMs. Sometimes citizens left to join them.

In a city of twenty million, sixty-five people voluntarily leaving was a pittance. Still, the annual rate over the past decade was fewer than fifty, and these recent departures had all happened in the past month.

We had hoped the sudden increase was an anomaly, boredom from the excesses in the city. Unfortunately, it looked more like a pattern than a brief deviation and wasn’t something I could ignore.

Akila governed based on human approval, and people leaving the city was a data point that signaled dissension. That meant Akila would act to resolve it. If we didn’t guide Akila, it would grow more desperate to gain human approval. Desperate AIs take drastic measures. We delved into that territory once before with Akila, and I would do anything to keep it from happening again.

Alert the other representatives, I said. I need them to compile data. Find out where citizens said they were going and why they were leaving. Anyone leaving from now on needs a thorough exit interview. Find out what might convince them to stay. I also need population counts from the known Naturals’ villages. You and I will discuss the findings later this afternoon.

Yes, Ambassador. I’ll keep you posted, Itsuki said and disconnected.

I had led the team that first created Akila, and we made sure that it had a strong allegiance to humans. After its creation, Linaria Randall, Hiran Patel, and I were selected by Congress to be the first ambassadors before the government dissolved and transferred complete power to Akila in 2090. The country had been desperate to control an aggressive AI that had already taken over Europe and had infiltrated our networks. Our role was to influence Akila and make sure its decisions were aligned with human interests.

Since Akila squashed and disabled the European rogue AI threat, Akila had become a benevolent dictator, holding human interests above everything except the protection of the planet. Exactly how my development team had designed it. Akila copied itself to run the other cities around the globe. We had achieved world peace, or as close as we had ever come or could ever come, in my opinion.

I sent a quick message to Akila, Hiran, and Linaria requesting an emergency ambassador meeting the following morning. They accepted immediately.

Dalian Garcia requests access.

A live video of Dalian waiting by the elevators downstairs appeared in the lower-right corner of my vision. I granted him permission to use the elevator. My apartment capped the building like a little fez hat, not far from the city center, and had limited access for my protection as an ambassador. While it sounded extravagant, it echoed the size and simplicity of the others in the building. After all, in this city we didn’t need much.

My excitement to see Dalian waned as I stewed on Itsuki’s news. Who would choose to rid their bodies of enhancements to live in the pioneer-era villages outside the city? One wrong bug or snake bite, a nibble on the wrong plant, or an unlucky encounter with a bobcat would be bad news for someone who had lived in a cocoon of safety.

The elevator opened straight into my apartment. Dalian stepped inside with his hands behind his back. His dark hair fell across his forehead, highlighting his deep-brown eyes. You knew from just a glance that he belonged in the bedroom.

I didn’t cheat. He raised his eyebrows.

Fine. I couldn’t bother to fight at the moment.

Dalian stopped short. What’s wrong?

People are leaving the city. I massaged my temples. I need to find out why and make it stop.

I’m sorry you’re stressed, Dalian said, but you’ll figure it out.

His canned response sounded worse than screeching metal to me. I had heard it too many times. Did he ever take anything seriously?

This isn’t some silly simulation design bug, I snapped. This is the functioning of the city, and I can’t figure it out if I don’t know what’s causing it.

Dalian’s jaw clenched. Have you ever once taken my help? No, you want to vent, and I’m trying to listen. You know that’s all you want from me.

He was right. I needed answers, but not from him.

I’m just frustrated, I said.

Have you asked for help from the other ambassadors?

Linaria and Hiran had been just as bewildered as me.

An idea flashed in my head. Have the other cities experienced an exodus? I opened my eyes wide. Don’t ever say you never help.

He smiled. I won’t.

I sent a message to my one of my counterpart ambassadors in Moscow. He loved gossip. It made him susceptible to outside influence, but sometimes it brought knowledge that would be unobtainable through the official communication structure. A few seconds later, he replied that they had not had an increase, and seven other cities he just checked with hadn’t either.

It’s not a trend, I said.

What’s different here? Dalian asked.

There were many differences in the cities. Akila had been copied at the end of the war, so much of the basics of how the cities operated were the same, but we had to allow the citizens to, in effect, customize their leadership. After the AI Wars, which spread due to globalization, Akila limited the connections to the other cities and monitored anything that went through the single channel to each one. That way, if a city had a problem, it would remain isolated to that city.

Instead of comparing our city to the others, it would be better for us to examine what recent change had happened here. My mind went straight to Mazin, a relatively new prototype AI that Akila and I had created to manage the security of the city after the Jonas Walker Incident, where a citizen smuggled his ousted twin brother into the city to murder three people.

Mazin’s priorities were clear. It must protect the Earth, the city, and all humans, in that order, against possible harm or destruction. Its resource acquisition and usage were at the discretion of the ambassadors and Akila.

Mazin couldn’t be causing the citizens to leave. Nothing in its tasks would influence citizens to abandon the city. Plus, it had been operating for two years without incident.

But nothing else was new.

Dalian stepped closer. You know, they say that distraction can help you solve difficult problems, he said in a husky voice. I’ve been thinking about kissing you since I came in. Can I touch you?

I wasn’t ready to stop thinking about work, but Dalian did have a special talent for distraction. You may.

He brought his hand up to my cheek and caressed it. My chest squeezed with annoyance. I hated romantic gestures. I pulled his hand away and pressed my lips into his. He smelled of rosewood, and his soft tongue tasted like cinnamon, my favorites.

It was nice. It was enough. Almost.

what kind of crap-bag situation had I landed in? Awoken in a barren white room by a dapper hairdresser, forced to wear a hat, and being hunted by drones.

Sounds about right for me.

Dalian was so agitated about leaving that I assumed we were about to open the door to a room full of expert ninjas we would have to somersault-fight our way through. Instead, the doors slid open to reveal an elevator with the number 201 illuminated in the back. 201 floors? No wonder I had been about to barf when I looked out over the city.

The mirrored walls of the elevator provided my first opportunity to see myself, and I jumped at the stranger looking back at me. That wasn’t me. My pale skin had tanned. The tiny hook at the end of my nose that I always thought added character had disappeared. My thin lips had plumped, and the rest of my face had sharp angles from my jaw to my defined cheekbones. Magenta curls sneaked out from under my cap. It seemed like I had makeup on, but nothing coated my face. Even when I tried to smear my eyeshadow, it didn’t budge.

I couldn’t decide if my new face was pretty or not. It was definitely interesting and a little intense.

The elevator stopped at floor 147. The doors opened, and a short man with bright-purple hair strode toward us. When his eyes alighted on me, they widened. He straightened his back and stood an inch taller. Good morning, Ambassador Hale.

Good morning, I said.

What else could I say when someone treated me like royalty and called me ambassador?

The purple-haired guy blinked rapidly and cleared his throat. If I might be so bold as to ask if I could arrange some time to talk to you about Akila’s latest proc—

Ambassador Hale is disconnected for a reason, Dalian said. Please send her a message through your collector.

Yes, of course. The purple-haired guy turned away from us to face the doors.

I had so many questions, and I never handled the unknown very well. When Dalian explained everything like he promised, he had better be neurosurgeon-level thorough.

The elevator stopped at the lobby, and Dalian jerked me down a gray hallway. The black doors on either side had no windows, so I couldn’t see what lurked behind them. It reminded me of a sad, vacant office building. We got to the end and faced another door.

We’re probably being watched, Dalian whispered, so stop looking at everything. Act like you’ve seen it all before.

What do you expect? I hissed. I have no clue what’s going on.

You said you would trust me. I’m trying to save your life.

For all I know, I’ve been kidnapped. You definitely lost some trust points with my hair. I tugged on a loose curl.

Hair grows back.

"Easy for you to say with your Lego-piece hair. Do you know how long it takes to grow out hair? I still have to get haircuts every couple of months or my ends will get all split and then the frizzy kicks in high