11:12AM: December 20, 2101
“What do you think she wants?” Penelope whispered.
“Nothing good,” said Matthew/Endo.
The sedan had weaved from street to street with a grace unnoticed, the maelstrom of Chicago’s city center now a congested parking lot of abandoned vehicles. They’d arrived at the Deox building by clipping the curb, only to be abrasively ushered into an empty lobby of glass archways and polished tile. A bank of elevators waited patiently for them to the right.
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