Saoirse does not answer my messages for a day. I deserve it. On the second evening, she turns up at my office. James sees her, looks at me and suddenly remembers somewhere else he needs to be.
“I’m sorry,” I say before she reaches my desk.
She stops.
“That was fast.”
“I practised.”
“Clearly.”
“I was wrong.”
She sits opposite me. I continue before pride finds a way back into the room.
“I don’t want the Council deciding your risk for you. Then I tried to do exactly that.”
“Yes.”
“You could pretend I was slightly less wrong.”
“No.”
Fair. She takes out a document. Consent forms. Her signature is already on the last page. My stomach drops.
“You agreed.”
“I did.”
I force myself not to react the way I did before.
“Why?”
“Because the instability is spreading.”
She shows me a map. Small celestial failures have appeared across Edinburgh. People losing access to their designations for seconds at a time. Others picking up fragments of functions that are not theirs. Nothing catastrophic. Yet.
“If this helps you learn to close the network,” she says, “I want to do it.”
“What does it cost you?”
“I don’t know.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“No.”
I look at her. She doesn’t look fearless. That matters.
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes.”
“So am I.”
Her expression changes. I don’t think I have admitted that to her before. She reaches across the desk. Her fingers touch mine. No celestial event. No strange connection. Just her hand.
“I’m still doing it,” she says.
“I know.”
I turn my palm under hers. We stay like that for a while. Then her phone rings and the moment breaks. The test is scheduled for Saturday. Location: the Edinburgh Observatory Annex. I know the name immediately. My firm worked on the renovation. I did not lead it, but I designed the central hall. Saoirse sees my face.
“What?”
I open the project file. The hall appears on screen. High ceiling. Long windows. Central open floor. Something cold moves through me. I have seen that room before. Smoke. Broken glass. Blood. Saoirse shouting my name. The dream comes back whole.