“If that’s the case, then maybe I shall put forward my suggestion of continuing to work with me on my projects.”
“I’d like that,” she said quickly, as if he’d think about the words for too long and then take them back, realizing what he’d offered. “Whenever you need me, Samson. It’s not like I don’t have the time.”
They both shared a laugh at that, Samson’s significantly quieter than hers.
“Until then, then.” He gave a nod, taking a step backwards toward Wayne and Takako’s rooms.
“Until then,” Jo affirmed, turning on her heel and heading in the other direction.
Her head was in a haze and her body felt energized. Taking a bit of a break actuallysoundedgood, but she desperately did not want to be excluded from any steps of the wish. Jo was a mess of contradictions and obsessing over redeeming herself wasn’t helping anything. She needed a break, needed something else to look at for just a little while that would occupy more of her thoughts than Eslar’s book.
She’d hoped to find Nico in the living room (he was always one for a pleasant distraction), but Eslar was the lone ghost haunting the space as usual. Jo’s eyes scanned the empty room, coming back to the elf who now stared at her.
“How did it go?” Eslar asked.
“What, do you have ESP now?” Jo asked, walking over to the kitchen.
“If only.”
She snorted at the elf’s comment. It was the most casual levity she’d ever heard from him. Jo wandered into the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets. She wasn’t actually hungry, so making something was merely another way to pass the time, another habit of humanity to indulge. What new habits of the immortal could she take up instead?
“Well?” Eslar followed up when the silence had dragged on.
“How did what go?”
“Your work with Samson,” he clarified.
She paused, turning to face the elf on the couch. “Really, how did you know I was working with him?”
Eslar shrugged.
“Are you sure you don’t have ESP?” she asked again.
“If only,” he repeated in kind. Jo found it just as amusing as the first time and she shook her head. “Well?”
“It went all right.”She hoped. “In case you somehow don’t mysteriously know all the details, I was helping him test the machine—” It was far more technical than a standard seismograph and deserved a better name, Jo just wasn’t up for thinking of one at the present moment. “And he seems confident it’ll work.”
“Good, we need it.” Eslar turned back to the television.
Jo turned as well, leaning against the counter. The T.V. was loud enough to fill the room.
“The prime minister will be giving another press conference on the current steps being taken to prevent further acts of cyber terrorism and protect our nation’s digital borders. . .”
“Cyber terrorism,” she repeated. It was a distinction she’d never earned before, yet Jo couldn’t find any pride for it.
“They seem to be clinging to that label in regards to your hacking.”
“Don’t remind me.” Jo turned away from the broadcast, eventually deciding on coffee. Ten hours without coffee did not a happy Jo make. At the least, the grinding, brewing, and pouring would keep her distracted from the news for just a little while longer.
“. . . scientific community agrees that there is no evidence to support the evacuation order. . .”
“Yet,” Jo spoke over the newscaster.
“We hope,” Eslar added.
Hopewas an odd choice of words. It stuck out to Jo like an HTML tag that hadn’t been enclosed properly. An anomaly that was intentional, functional, yet wrong. Hope wasn’t going to complete their wish. And if they didn’t complete it. . .
“Eslar,” Jo poured herself a mug and crossed the room to the elf as she spoke. “We allhopeit works. . . But what happens if it doesn’t?”
