"So, what is it?" A forced smile creases between Jorge's wrinkles. He presses his thumb to his desk, triggering holograms from the glass surface. His fingers step from a section to another, while his eyes scan the room like a hunting hawk. "I'm sorry I don't have much time. Mondays are—"

"Busy." Sandra fidgets with her journal, sitting with excitement dancing in her gaze, as if his gruffness fails to infect her. "I won't bother you for long, Uncle Jorge."

He swipes a tab at the hovering screen's left to the middle, and a calendar pops out. "Thank goodness you realize that."

"My governess, Ms. Orchid, asks me to write an article regarding controversial conspiracy theories. After all, government is our current topic in Social Studies."

Jorge quirks his bushy brow, as if wondering why she bothers to be here just for a homeschooling paperwork.

"Allice Worke." Xin-Yo wriggles in my backpack. "The agenda."

I nearly slap my forehead. Our plan—how can I forget that? "How long do I have?"

"Thirty-five minutes."

I wring my palms together like a sweat-drenched handkerchief.

It jostles in the backpack, and I have to deafen my ears from its nerve-wracking rattles. Hopefully, Jorge is deafened as well... "It's in front of Allice Worke, in the white lab table's drawer."

The said table contrasts the room's gloomy and sophisticated vibes. Several odd devices and notes are scattered on it. Steam wafts out of a cup with a brown stain puddling underneath.

It'll probably take five crawls to reach. But I might pass through the gap between the bookcases, and if Jorge's eyes wander around...

Even the beige walls' seem to have keen eyes. It's like there's something blinking, but always disappears when I search for it.

"What do you think of the previous government, Uncle Jorge? The one under my grandma, Mrs. Kaya Hua?"

"This is Allice Worke's chance," it whispers through the zippers. "Go now."

Steeling my nerves, I take a swig, my arms wobbling like jelly against the floor. Another crawl is easier after my knees find the right advancing rhythm. A sneeze tickles my nose, and before I distance myself from the bookshelf, it blows out, barely silenced by my thin sleeve. Xin-Yo whimpers in my backpack, as if guilty for it.

I daren't peek through the books, but Sandra must still be playing her oblivious act.

"Do you bring someone with you?"

I choke back my breath, freezing my limbs. I can no longer unheed my pumping heart and the trickles of sweat beading my crannies.

Idiot. You shouldn't screw this, Allice! What if... what if we're risking everything for nothing in the end?

"It's Ms. Orchid's substitute, Mr. Euis Urk. He... he feels sick. Insisted to come along though. He wants to meet you in person"—she stammers—"actually."

"Oh." He neither sounds amused, nor flattered. "Where is he now? Is he in this room?"

"Allice Worke must hurry." Xin-Yo jabs its metal finger against my backpack. "Mr. Jorge Zaragoza isn't looking."

After the fifth crawl, my knees cave in, and I wipe my wet temples. Instead of a technological barrier, there's a combination lock, like the one on our makeshift safe for Mantis shrimps, as the drawer's handle. White-painted numbers from one to thirty-five and in-between thin lines pop out from the circular steel. The black surface is cool as I brush it lightly, testing its reaction.

This must be easier to deal with than the hovering attendance form.

"What should I do?" It's as if there's an in-wall clock in my head, beeping to show how a minute has passed. Visibly trembling, my fingers clasp the dial, my ears strained to the silent backpack.

"Two, twenty-six, four." Xin-Yo shifts restlessly. "Turn the dial clockwise three times, then stop it at two." Dial... which one—"The small circle at the middle, Allice Worke."

Nevertheless, with hesitant fingers, I do its instructions.

"Now spin it counterclockwise, once. Make sure it passes number two again."

I'll surely have a nightmare about numbers tonight.

"Keep spinning, and stop at twenty-six. It's the first white line after twenty-five."

"There's no way my grandma refused those projects; she has always been fond of Humbass Village." A tinge of tension surges in Sandra's tone. "Why would she cut the financial help for her pleasant hometown?"

"I've heard rumors, whispered at nighttime by the lowliest folks—the ones related to those at Humbass..."

A sea of anger covers me, awakening enough strength to slam a bookshelf to his face. Lowliest folks—are Lowlifes no more than locusts for him? And what's wrong with Humbass' villagers that he has to use such a demeaning tone against them?

Some Lowlifes were too poor to survive here and had to move to the village; is that why he still despises them?

"Focus, Allice Worke. There's only twenty minutes." Xin-Yo's plea slams me back to reality. "Spin it clockwise and stop at four. Lastly, pull up the shackle."

The subtle click is probably the best thing to ever bless my ears.

I try to pull the drawer open without causing a commotion. Within seconds, it opens smoothly, revealing a black notebook underneath a crowd of papers. I trace the golden engravings. "Are you ready for some reading?"

It whirs, as if its limbs nod together. I flip open the first page, almost crying at the jumbled text. Some are written on the left, some above, some leaving a gap at the page's center. Coffee stains, joined by water and a reddish sauce, mark nearly every page.

Xin-Yo, coupled with the backpack's darkness and its night-mode ability, works as a translator and data-absorber for the agenda. All the while, I hold the book shakily, afraid I'll leave unnecessary sweat on the page.

"Turn it again."

I flip to the next page, gawking at a robot drawing. It doesn't take long to compare the round features to Xin-Yo. Sky-blue eyes, twig-like arms, yellow-and-black colored...

The next pages consist of tables, filled with various numbers and hasty footnotes.

A robot, which can be Xin-Yo's twin if it has a smaller body and frailer arms, greet us at the next page. But unlike Xin-Yo's, its eyes are as blue as the deep ocean, mysterious and menacing.

Judging by how I constantly flip the agenda and Xin-Yo reads the text quickly, it's like our roles are reversed: Xin-Yo as the human and Allice Worke as the robot.

"Stop here," Xin-Yo chirps, pressing onto my back. "Genocide... Lowlife... Oriental City Zoo... relocation of the capital city... Okaurian refugees..." We've arrived at the last page. "Xin-Yo has remembered them all. It's time to go home."

"Thanks for your help, Xin-Yo." I shut the drawer and sneak the notebook back, skittering to the nearest bookshelf while trying to ignore the throb in my chest after the intense panic. "How can we let Sandra know?"

"Xin-Yo and Allice Worke will have to wait for Mr. Jorge Zaragoza to exit. It's ten minutes away. Sandra Hua will be waiting at the earlier door later."

"Do you think you will score better than what you thought of my grandma—eight out of ten, Uncle Jorge?" Sandra's pen might shred the paper at her intense scribbling. The mischief in her voice doesn't float unnoticed by me. "How much do you expect yourself to score?"

"I aim for ten, of course," Jorge says, as if his throat needs a good scraping. A prolonged beep echoes in the room, thawing my brief calmness.

What's that sound? Is he calling the guards? But don't people usually speak to the intercom while doing so?

A voice alike to Lindra's announces, "Initiating Activation."

I peek at Sandra between the books. Her head is flipping around, searching for the ominuous sound. Jorge remains calm, as if nothing has happened. Yet, though he's talking to Sandra, his hands are still tapping on the desk's holographic screen...

Something bad is going to happen.

"But there's no such thing as perfection, Sandra," he continues with the same dullness from before. "Humans are flawed beings, incapable of perfection. Which is why humans need something that's less flawed than them, closer to perfection than ourselves."

"Closer to perfection?" Sandra spits the words out slowly. "What are you implying? Are you making something again, Uncle Jorge? Like the robot you introduced to public last month?"

Silence veils over the room, stifling even Xin-Yo's soft machinery croaks.

A scraping of his chair against the floor breaks the situation. "Why, yes. You'll see it yourself, very soon." He briefly pauses before resuming, "If you don't have more questions, I must excuse myself. I have an important meeting."

Another chair grates the ceramics. "Sure. Anyway, thank you for your time today, Uncle Jorge. I'll make a great paperwork out of this and send it to you."

There are faint whizzes, but they die entirely in a few seconds, leaving room for Jorge's next words. A strange chill suffocates the room, and it's like there's someone glaring from my back. "You better be. Not wanting to upset your parents too often, right?"

"I'm sorry?" Sandra asks, still in her calm, defiant trance.

"Go home, Sandra. Ms. Orchid and your parents are at home now, waiting for you. There's a taxi at the lobby. I'll send Migos with you."

Wait, what? What's going on? How could he...

"Every door, except the main entrance, are guarded with The Office's unfed feral hounds. If you don't want to get stitched, do as I say and go home now."

A shiver scratches my skin at the iciness of his tone. My tongue is as locked as Sandra's.

"Maybe this will teach you to look at things in a more rational way, Sandra." He lowers his voice. The mixture of resentment and cruelty in his gaze causes both Sandra and I to squirm. "The Office is my playground. Do you seriously think you can fool me and get away with it?"

Like a rabbit cornered with an ax, Sandra steps backward. There's no remaining determination in her expression, and it drops my stomach to the lowest pit.

"Who gave you that illusion, hm? Lin-Roy might've thought that his act of stealing some of The Office's Onyx Agents months ago were unnoticed, but I knew. I create humans inside these walls..." And for the first time, he extends a genuine smile. But between his lips, still lies a suppressed evil. "I've made The Office mine far before your grandma noticed it, Sandra. She backstabbed herself by making me handle the building's technology."

As her back hastily retreats beyond the closing door, muffling her soft sobs, the room is immediately devoid of light. Another shiver travels on my arms, and before my hands spin out of control, I detain them behind my armpits, hugging myself.

Jorge roots at the middle of the room, his arms folded, his eyes closed. For the briefest moment, he resembles a monk, shortly before saying, "Da-Xing."

The wall behind me morphs, forming limbs that bend according to their will, and slowly its surface transform from beige to raven-black and orange, like the dominating colors on Xin-Yo. My heart lurches in my chest as Xin-Yo shudders behind me.

"Xin-Yo knew the wall is suspicious..."

Stepping out of the wall is Xin-Yo's potential twin from Jorge's agenda.

Jorge marches to the door. Jorge is lean and sturdy, but he stands like a dwarf compared to Da-Xing. What of Xin-Yo and I? "Please teach Allice Worke and his pet robot that information thievery is a foul offense of the law, though it's not included in Dogson's Chain of Laws... yet."

A click resounds from the door, and contrary to the combination lock, this is the worst thing I've ever eared upon.