This is But One Fragment Five Hundred Words Long Constituting Part of Something Much Larger, With At Least One New Episode Per Week, And May Be What We Call A Serialized Novella.

“Timo has been missing for a few days.” I interrupt Nusci as she fills the air between us with trivialities. The thought had been hanging at the tip of my tongue waiting to burst into the otherwise one-way conversation. “He hasn’t been in the lab this whole sixday. We’re worried about him.”

Nusci is mute for a long moment, the vapid grin adorning her face slowly falling into patient smirk, her eyes conveying an expression of empty indifference. “Is that so?” She asks. “I wouldn’t have any idea where to start looking.”

“It’s not that.” I say. “I thought you might like to know. You used to Clock together, right?”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up somewhere.” She sighs, setting her tea on the table. Between us is spread a small assortment of baked fishcakes, and she reaches with delicate precision to pluck one from the plate before reaching with her mouth to nibble a bite from the edge of the sweet delicacy. “Oh, but have I told you about the new pastry shop I discovered shortly after our last meeting?” Nusci distracted, I momentarily indulge her lack of concern while I sip my own drink.

“Has anyone mentioned Timo? In the Voxing lab, I mean? Have you heard anything that might give us a clue?” I say, trying again to steer the conversation to my own interests. Perhaps I am paranoid.

Nusci purses her lips, a napkin held to her mouth. “Now, I don’t really see how that is much of my business. I try not to get involved with the politics in the lab, you know.” Sip. “You shouldn’t worry so much about it, Moze.” Sip.

A sinister thought, an all-too-recent memory of Klaas telling me to “drop it” flashes through my mind. “Nusci?” I plead. “You’re not involved in this, are you?” And if she was, that would be part of the act. “Please. Fids! Nusci, tell me you’re not.”

She seems genuinely confused at this. “I haven’t seen the poor fool.” She shrugs. Sip. “Oh, Mozari, can’t we talk about more interesting things. I do want to have some fun outside of that dreary job of mine. I mean, really…”

I gamble. “What do you know about voxcore?” I ask, eyes meeting.

Nusci stiffens and she pulls a long, shuddering breath between her lips as her eyes fall closed. She exhales, and as her eyes open I see a different person sitting in the chair across the table. “Be very careful who you ask about that.” She says, her voice is lower and measured. “I… I need your help, Moze. They are… there is too much to explain and… I need you to stop them. They are ruining… they are…” She is speaking with increasing speed, but it seems to be getting more difficult for her to connect her thoughts. “Moze!”

Her body relaxes and she looks up at me with a fearful expression. “So… cold.” Is all she can say before she collapses from her chair.