One year later . . .

32 A.D.C. (After Dry Clouds) . . .

October 12 . . .

Tuesday . . .

7:59 P.M. . . .

The Sphinx Corporation Third Branch Office towered over the streets of the Hellenistic Sector, Business Vicinage. A hundred years ago, when the city was created, the Corporate Senate (the world’s ruling body based in the city) divided Noir into hundreds of Sectors, each one owned and governed by a corporation. The areas were then divided, by each corporation, into smaller areas called Vicinages, little cities within a colossal city. Sphinx owned and ruled the Hellenistic Sector.

Each corporation policed its Sectors with its own corporate military. The world had its own civil police force which dealt in non-corporate issues like assaults, murders by non-Closers, and anything else the corporate military kicked to them. Authority always belonged to the corporations.

The Sphinx Corporation Third Branch Office was one of many massive buildings in Noir. A mile high and half mile across and back this behemoth stood as a giant in the city, dominated as a Titan.

Kimberly Griffin, a woman in her late thirties, sat alone within one of many waiting rooms on Level 150. In her left hand, she held a key chain of a pink bunny rabbit. Distraught, she rubbed her thumb over the rabbit’s smiling face. Physically and mentally tired, she looked at a man’s picture on the cover of the Conglomerate World Magazine lying on a coffee table. She raked her long blonde hair behind her ear and rubbed her eye. The headline read Topa, Climbing the Ladder of Success?

She shifted position on the light brown couch and glanced at the secretary. The older woman spoke on the phone. Kim sighed, impatient, and turned her gaze to a few landscape paintings decorating the open room’s white walls. Their purpose was to soothe those who waited, to take one’s mind away from the distresses of the day, even for just a few seconds. Kim frowned, the paintings incited no such solace. She stared at her fisted right hand, and slowly opened it, revealing a star the size of a dime burned in her palm. She sighed again and turned to the secretary as the woman answered a second phone on her desk.

The secretary hung up and cleared her throat. “Ms. Griffin your father . . .” Cathy started and caught herself. “I’m sorry, I mean the Chairman will see you now.”

Kim nodded, too tired to be irritated, straightened her aqua pant suit, and headed for the huge corner office. The Chairman’s position ranked third under the President and Vice President. Since Sphinx was one of the more powerful Corporations in the world, that made her father a very influential man with vast resources and global connections. Kim paused outside his office, vexed to have been called in. She had just returned from the Light Side of the planet and was wanting to go home and sleep. She took a deep breath, silencing her anger, opened the door, and walked in.

Two of the walls consisted of ten foot windows. The office’s bright lights reflected off the windows like mirrors. The Chairman’s desk sat off from the corner, giving him even more presence of authority like a king on a throne. Kim closed the door and walked past a dark brown leather couch against a white wall.

The Chairman glanced up from a computer and stared at her with his light blue eyes as she entered. The Chairman, in his late sixties, looked younger, around fifty and wore a dark gray suit. “Kimberly, good to see you.” He stood, walked to her, and kissed her on the cheek. She didn’t return his affection, almost turned from him repulsed. The Chairman frowned, motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk, and she sat as he returned to his seat. “Are you still living in the apartment off of West 1000 Avenue?”

Kim felt uneasy being in his office, but bore the discomfort. She noticed his graying black hair. “Yes.”

The Chairman waited a moment before continuing, hoping she would say something. “Are you seeing anyone?”

She didn’t answer, just looked at him with her blue-green eyes, thinking, “As if I had time for a boyfriend, but that’s none of his business.”

He quickly moved to the next question, feeling awkward in front of his daughter. “How’s work?”

Still showing a bit of fatigue, she answered, “Fine. I finished a Closing in Moscow three days ago.” Kim frowned, and her face softened as she stared at the key chain of the pink bunny rabbit.

The Chairman thought he saw a glimmer of sadness. “Are you all . . .”

Kim glared at him, stifling his question as her irritation returned. She glanced at a picture frame sitting on his desk with its back to her and looked to him. “You didn’t call me in here because you suddenly have an interest in my life.”

The Chairman sighed. “Right. To business then.” He handed her an envelope with a small key inside. “It’s to your mother’s hope chest.” He picked up the picture frame, smiling. “How you look like her.” The Chairman set it back down as happy memories flooded his mind. “I know she would want you to have the chest. I’ve set up delivery.”

Kim opened the envelope and stared at the brass key. “Have you given me this because it is the anniversary of when mom left?”

“No.”

“Then why now?”

Not sure of her meaning, he questioned, “Why now?”

“All these years since mom . . .” She paused, trying not to cry. “Mom abandoned us, you never wanted to talk about her, her name became taboo around you. So, why now after two decades? Why give me her hope chest? What has changed?” Her eyes narrowed, suspicious of his actions. “I know it isn’t our relationship. So, what is it? Are you going to talk about why she left us?”

“I was wrong.” He bowed his head. “Her leaving us hurt me so much, I wanted to forget. I never thought how it might affect you, or that you needed me, and for that, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry.” She laughed. “Perfect, now everything’s fine.” Kim stood and added sarcastically, “I’m glad I came.” She started for the door.

“Do you have to leave? I thought we might have an early dinner and talk.”

Half way to the door, she turned. “I can’t. I have a Closing tomorrow and need to get some rest.”

“A Closing? Who?”

“Topa.”

The Chairman frowned. “Yes, I know him.”

“Thought you did.” She started to turn toward the door and paused. “It’s kind of sad.”

He tilted his head. “What is?”

“Our relationship, my life, you name it, but most of all that you were the one who got me into . . .” The words slithered from her mouth, “My profession.” Kim fisted her hands. “What kind of father has his daughter . . .” She looked at him angrily.

This time he had nothing to say.

Kim continued to the door.

The Chairman stood. “You should take some time off. You’re looking a little tired. Maybe buy yourself a pet to keep you company. You can’t be happy living all alone.”

“So, you have been spying on me!” Kim paused at the door as if to say something more, shook her head, and left.

The Chairman sighed, sitting down, and stared at the picture. “How you look like your mother.” He pushed his chair back and commanded, “Lights dim.” The room darkened and the Chairman turned in his seat, looking out a window at Noir’s skyline. He stared at the Dry Clouds as they loomed over the dark city. “I wish you were here, Theresa. Our daughter needs you.”

* * *

“Sometimes . . .”

A red VX Corvette drove into the parking garage of the Nexus Apartments. The small building, only forty stories high, sat on the corner of West 1000 Avenue and Knot Street in the Hellenistic Sector, Residential Vicinage. Kim exited the vehicle and grabbed a bag of groceries from her trunk. She took an empty elevator to the thirty-first floor and walked down a deserted hall to Apartment H.

“Sometimes I . . .” Kim thought and commanded, “Door, unlock.”

“Voice recognized as Kimberly Griffin,” the Apartment Computer System stated. “Opening door.”

The apartment door slid sideways, Kim walked in the small entry, and commanded, “Door lock.” The door slid shut and locked as she went into the kitchen on the north side. The lights automatically flickered on in each room she entered as the Apartment Computer System or A.C.S. detected her presence.

“Welcome back Ms. Griffin,” A.C.S. stated in its female computer voice. “The apartment temperature is set at seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Lights are set at eighty-five percent brightness. Would you like to make any adjustments at this time?”

“Yes, A.C.S. It’s a bit warm. Drop the temperature to seventy-six. And I could use more lighting, so change the brightness to ninety-five percent.”

“Making changes now.”

The air conditioner kicked on, and the lights brightened. Kim set the bag down, laid the bunny rabbit key chain beside it, and stared at the black marble counter. She put both hands on the inky-black surface, leaned against it, and bowed her head. “Sometimes I wish . . .” Her blonde hair fell forward, covering the side of her face as she stared at her reflection in the marble.

“For Ares’ sake! My life’s so tedious.” Kim leaned back. “All I have is routine.” She sighed, started to unpack the bag, and glanced around the dark lifeless room. It was quiet, in a gloomy way. She looked to one of three windows in the apartment, all overlooked West 1000 Avenue. Kim noticed a dead Transgenic Vine sitting on the kitchen window sill and frowned.

“Great, just great! Forgot to ask the manager to water it while I was gone. Too bad A.C.S. doesn’t have a water system for plants.” She walked over to the vine, picked up the pot, and several brown leaves fell to the floor. Kim shook her head, moved to the trash can, and pressed the step, which flipped up a stainless steel lid. The brittle brown plant fell out of its container as Kim dropped the pot in the waste. Dirt spilled, exposing the vine’s roots. She stared at the dead plant. “Can’t I keep one thing alive?” Kim released the lid and walked away from the trash. “Or are Closings all I’m good at?”

She returned to her groceries, putting them away, then placed a stainless steel kettle full of water on the burner, and turned it on high. Kim put the eggs and milk in the refrigerator and put the dry goods in the pantry. She reached up into the cupboard, removed a white cup and saucer, and placed them on the counter. She walked to a drawer, opened it, and grabbed a spoon. “Is this really my life?” Kim noticed her reflection in the spoon’s curved surface. “It’s so mundane. Lonely. Sometimes I wish . . .”

Kim placed a single tea bag in the solitary cup and a slice of lemon on the saucer. “Sometimes I wish . . .” She glanced at the answering machine as the water started to boil. Messages read zero, the number of friends, of acquaintances. The kettle whistled, she removed it from the burner, poured hot water into the cup, and steam rolled up from the liquid. “Shouldn’t my life be different? Wasn’t I meant for more than this . . . this wretched life as a Closer? I wish . . .” Kim dared not think it. Dared not hope.

She grabbed a remote from the counter, aimed the device at the south wall, clicked on a flat screen TV that hung over a fireplace in the living room, and gazed at the picture from the open kitchen. The evening news was on, showing footage of a small office building on fire. Kim moved behind a black leather couch, watching the blaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the first door in the hallway, walked to the room, started to command it to unlock, but stopped, afraid. “Sometimes . . .” She pulled on her left earlobe. “I wish . . .”

The spare bedroom remained locked since she first closed it. Kim stored her mother’s belongings in it. Down the hall was the Master Bedroom, her room. Kim sighed, returned to the kitchen, grabbed the remote, and looked to the TV. An anchorwoman, Linda Harvey with NBS (Noir Broadcasting Station) read a report.

“The Corporate Senate will be meeting later this week to vote on the proposed bill for a sales tax increase. The quarter cent raise will bring in much needed money for the planet’s civil defense and continue funding Research Project Clean Air. Analysts are predicting the bill will be voted in.” Linda Harvey paused. “In other news, Dr. Robert Seeker, the foremost expert of the Dry Clouds problem, will be heading out to Antarctica . . .”

Kim clicked off the TV, plunging the room back into silence. “Enough with the news. My life is miserable enough without having to hear about someone else's.” She picked up the saucer and cup, walked to a small round table, and sat, staring out the window that overlooked West 1000 Avenue. The Dry Clouds entombed the starry sky, leaving the night dismal and bleak, just like her life.

Kim picked up a clear plastic container of honey, in the shape of a bear, from the table. She popped open the yellow lid and squirted a smiley face on the spoon with the golden sugar. She whispered a phrase her mother used to say. “Fly. . . fly away, sad, sad, day.” Kim stirred the honey in her Orange Pekoe, removed the tea bag, placed it on the saucer, and stared at the now warm brown liquid. “Used to, that phrase would cheer me up, but not anymore.” She arched her head back, looking at the ceiling. “Hades . . . What a life I have.”

Kim’s gaze shifted to the star burned into her right palm. “You’ve been with me for nearly two decades, but I can’t remember where I got you.” She made a fist and opened her hand again. “So, will I ever learn of your origin?”

“Look at me!” Frustrated, Kim shook her head. “The only thing I have to look forward to is maybe, someday, discovering where I received this burn.” She slammed a fist on the table and the tea cup rattled. “Sometimes I wish . . . I wish I wasn’t so alone. That I had more in this life. That there would be someone there for me.”

* * *

October 13 . . .

Wednesday . . .

5:49 A.M. . . .

Kim’s blue-green eyes popped open as the laptop sitting on a desk in her bedroom screeched like a bird, alerting her to an incoming message. “No,” she whined, placed a pillow on her face and rolled over. “It can’t be morning.”

A screen saver of a flaming bird flew across the laptop’s screen. The fiery glow lit up the dark room. After a few minutes, Kim dragged herself out of bed, put on a white housecoat and slippers, fixed a cup of tea, and sat down at the desk. She hit the space bar, woke up the computer, and clicked on the message.

It read, “Have you accepted the Closing?”

“So Voice, you’re up early this morning,” Kim thought and took a sip of the hot green tea. “Or maybe you’re up late, depending on where in the world you are sending this message from.” She typed a reply. “Yes.”

“I’ll send an encrypted e-mail with directions,” Voice typed back. “Topa’s estate is heavily guarded. He should be in his office for most of the morning.”

“Standard operation?”

“Yes.”

“Understood.” Kim pushed her chair back, but the computer’s beep brought her back to the screen.

“You should take a break after this Closing,” Voice wrote. “You have been working rather hard, and the Moscow Closing was rather difficult.”

“You sound like my father. Are you sure you don’t have children?”

“Yes. In our line of business, it isn’t wise to have them.” Voice typed, then a minute passed before writing, “As for your father, you should listen to us, we are your elders.”

Kim stared at the screen and tapped her fingers across the keyboard. “Since we’re getting a little personal, I was wondering why you’re called Voice? All these years I’ve worked for you, I’ve never heard you.”

“Long before you joined us, I made contact over the phone. Therefore the tag, Voice. But that was ages ago.”

“I wonder just how long ago?” Kim thought and typed, “I am also curious as to why you wanted me to join the Assassins League. I do live on the planet’s Dark Half. I should be a part of the Assassins Union.”

“And let Thanatos have one of the best Closers. I think not. He would only waste your talents. Anyway, those of us on the Light Side still have work that must be done on the Dark Half. You are not the only Closer there that belongs to the League.”

“Hmmm . . .” She stretched, yawned, and typed, “Will contact you this evening. Signing off.” Kim stood and went into the kitchen. “Maybe I do need a break.” She noticed the bunny rabbit key chain on the counter, thought back to the Moscow assignment, and frowned. “The last Closing got to me.” Kim grabbed the key chain, walked to the living room, and moved to a bookcase beside the fireplace. She placed the bunny rabbit in a wooden box sitting on a shelf and glanced at a picture frame with a photo of Theresa Griffin. Kim and her mother could have been twins. “Mom, if you were here, what would you think of me? What would you think of my pathetic life?”