Chapter 34: DronesThe STEADY, DULL familiarity of the workplace is soothing. At least, that’s what I tell myself. Repeatedly.
After all, the whole thing is engineered to be as soothing as possible: the bland space, the shrouded forms, the soft tap of fingers, the muted rustle of cloth. Warm air carrying a sweet scent that slows my breath and coats my tongue.
No one looks up when I ease the door open. A fine film of dust covers my console, but no one so much as glances over when I settle in the chair. Why would they? It’s against regulation to show interest in others. They probably haven’t even noticed I’ve been gone.
It seems laughable now, how worried I was about what they thought of me, imagining them staring constantly at the black probationary band I no longer wear. I almost miss it
