She thought about that idea for another minute, then flushed the theory away as stupidity. She scoffed, figuring her mind was running with lunacy, all brought forth as some form of a coping mechanism. Perhaps done to help offset the pain she was trying to bury.
Then there was his workspace.
It was hers now and she needed to do something with the mess before the reclamation team showed up to do their sweep and clear thing. She’d held them off so far, but eventually someone would notice and start questioning her motives.
Her mind switched to a new question. One she’d never thought of before.
How do you clear out a lifetime of someone else’s work with nothing more than a bunch of empty boxes and a broom?
Is that all there is to one’s life at the end—a pile of meaningless paperwork and a collection of junk that someone else has to callously pack up and haul away?
It was a depressing thought, but one she was sure that many had asked before her. Some might have found solace in the process, or closure, but she found it distressing.
Out of tragedy comes hope was one of Edison’s favorite sayings. She wasn’t sure if any of that was true, more so now as she brought her eyes down and took yet another glance around the room.
All she could hear was the rumbling hum of the air circulation system and her own heartbeat, thumping in rhythm with the passage of time.
She was certain Edison thought he had more time. Frost probably did, too. Morse, not so much, but regardless, everyone usually does. It’s part of pushing ahead into the unknown, trying to accomplish something positive for the day.
Summer decided to shift her focus to the page of notepaper on the desk. The first sentence had been easy for her to write, the pen scribing it with ease. Then again, all it said was “Welcome, citizens of Nirvana.”
That was an hour ago, shortly after Krista had banished her from public duty until she’d completed her speech.
Summer could have argued at the time, but chose not to—her second-in-command was correct. A public address needed to get done and for that to happen, she needed to separate herself from everything else going on in the silo.
Before her next thought arrived, three knocks came from the door and then she heard a sharp, single bark. Her eyes beamed at the entrance. “Sergeant Barkley?”
“Someone wants to see you,” a female voice said from the other side of the door.
Summer recognized the voice. “Come in, Krista. It’s not locked.”
The door opened and the Security Chief walked in, holding a paracord leash that was attached to her new four-legged friend.
Summer smiled, seeing the firm, crisp wag of the dog’s tail. Plus, his eyes looked much more alive than before.
“I think someone missed you,” Krista said, letting go of the homemade restraint.
The dog strolled forward, still hampered by a limp, but the pace of his paws had improved since she’d last seen him.
He cruised around the left edge of the desk and came straight at her. Summer put her knees together before the canine landed his wet snout on top of her lap.
She rubbed him enthusiastically. “You’re looking better, aren’t you, boy?”
“He does seem to be improving, believe it or not.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty special, isn’t he?”
“I have to say, I’m impressed.”
“With his healing or that he hasn’t bitten you yet?”
Krista grinned. “Both. I wasn’t sure at first, but he seems to be adjusting to life here quite nicely.”
“He just needed someone to love him,” Summer said, running her hands down his back and up again. It was at that moment when she realized he didn’t smell awful and his fur was fluffy. “Who gave him a bath?”
“Liz and I did,” Krista said, reaching behind her back. She lifted the tail of her shirt before bringing her hand out front again. “Right after I found this.” She held up a rainbow-colored notebook.
“Holy shit! You found it?” Summer snapped, scooting the mutt out of the way as she jumped to her feet. “Where?”
“A member of the reclamation team had it in his quarters.”
“Thank God it wasn’t incinerated,” Summer said, arriving at Krista’s position in a heartbeat. She pinched her forehead as a million questions burned inside. Then, a second later, one popped to the top of the list, making her feel more like a leader than a moment ago. “That’s not standard procedure. He shouldn’t have taken it.”
“And he’s been written up for it.”
“Why he’d do it?”
“He couldn’t answer that question. Not to my satisfaction.”
Summer shrugged, pressing her lips together out of habit. “Maybe he just wanted a memento.”
“That’s still no excuse. Especially when it belonged to a man who just died of a horrible disease,” Krista answered, holding out the notebook.
Summer went to grab it, but pulled her hand back. “Is it contagious?”
“If it was, it’s not anymore.”
Summer shook her head when the words didn’t resonate. “What does that even mean?”
“It means Liz treated it with a strong antibacterial. She says it’s as clean as it’s going to be.”
“That doesn’t sound very safe. Maybe we should just burn it?”
“I thought of that, but since it’s already made the rounds from the tech’s quarters to the infirmary and now here, it’s kind of too late for that.”
“Is that what Liz said?” Summer asked after a pause.
“Liz said to give it to you,” Krista answered, shaking the notebook. “So that’s what I’m doing.”
Summer took it. When she opened it, she found pages and pages of handwritten notes and diagrams, none of which she understood. At least his notes weren’t written in cursive like the letter he’d left for her. “What does all this mean?”
“I have no idea. I don’t speak geek.”
“Liz does.”
“She said microbiology isn’t her thing.”
“So that’s what this is? Microbiology?”
“Apparently Morse was worried about something in our wastewater that he called ravenous antibiotic eaters. That’s all Liz could figure out.”
“Really? I thought doctors had to know this stuff.”
“So did I, but she said they had specialists for all that back in the day. You know, labs full of geeks who got hard-ons from all this bug stuff.”
“Sounds like bugs eating bugs to me,” Summer quipped after scanning another page of notes. She closed the journal and held it up. “Then this is basically useless?”
Krista shrugged. “Unless you know someone else who speaks geek.”
Summer nodded, running through the facts in her head. Then she remembered something she’d thought about earlier. “What about Lipton?”
“I was wondering if that asshole’s name was going to come up.”
“He seems to think he knows everything about everything.”
“In my experience, that’s usually a sign that he’s just a fraud. You know the type. Some guy who’s pretending to be smarter than he really is, because he has a microscopically small pecker.”
Summer laughed. “Or he’s one of those geeks who gets wood when he discovers something new. A tiny, insignificant amount of wood. Like a splinter or something.”
Krista snickered for a bit before her face turned serious again. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to ask him.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Summer said, giving the notebook back to Krista.
“Okay, I’ll do that.”
Summer walked back to Edison’s desk and took her seat in his chair, resuming her scrub of the dog’s fluffiness.
Krista pointed at the paper on the desk. “How’s the speech coming along?”
Summer snatched the paper and held it up, turning it to face Krista. “It’s not.”