[Fiction] The Cold Light of Day

[Tawny 'Codex' March]

Photographs lay scattered on the desk, pinned to the display boards hanging from two walls, falling out of stuffed manila folders piled high on bookshelves and filing cabinets. A family was depicted in them, from black-and-white to the latest in digital printing technology, memories made manifest. In her more surreal moments, she wondered if she was the copy and not the real thing. Depressing thought to have, when the other nova in the McLachlan clan was probably deep in some quantum-cocooned coma.

What is reality?

Ick, existentialism, she thought, shoving aside the picture of the last know sighting of Samhra and Singularity, another nova who'd fallen off the face of the earth. Infiltrate, seduce, corrupt and recruit - really cute of him. Not that she'd have found Captain Atom her cup of tea. Buddhists drove her batty.

Then again, Samhra had problems to begin with, didn't she? Problems the Project had exploited.

Tawny looked at her reflection in the mirror hung from the back of her office door. Gone was the navy-blue hair and lips, defiance at a world that truly didn't give a shit; she'd gone to brunette like her grandmother instead of the ash-blonde she'd shared with her aunt. That trip had been good for some soul-searching.

Speaking of searching, she looked at her notebook, the one the Project's best people couldn't hack, and fired off an email cyberkinetically. She had some people to talk to.

Codex was back with a vengeance.