A gentle beeping sound filled Midge's room, a call was coming in. He ignored it. The call could wait—maybe the caller would be courteous enough to give up.

Midge was waiting. For what, he wasn't sure. Joshua would need a lot of work, but Queen would no doubt take care of any and all complaints. Having a brother high up in defenses had its advantages. With the way Midge felt, he was tempted to throw himself at the nearest guard and rot away in jail.

If Queenie didn't come through this time, then Midge figured he might as well stay awake. He was confident none could find his home in this realm, but if they were coming, they'd come during his time of rest.

All sections adhered to their own time frame. It was essential in keeping the entire Colony functioning at all times. He'd chosen this time zone because it was the time when nearly all of the Colony was asleep, meaning he himself could do so uninterrupted. It had worked just fine, until today.

Right hand behind his head, Midge laid in bed staring up at the dark ceiling. He traced his stomach, debating what to do.

Thoughts of Lydia filled him with dread. He hadn't caught up to her in time before she transported out. Maybe if he'd moved faster he could have said something.

He wasn't sure what he could have said, but he could have said something. He should have said something. At the very least, he could have asked permission to contact Lydia again.

Not that the noblewoman would want anything to do with Midge now. In an effort to give those diskettes back but without being too obvious, Midge marked them as scheduling diskettes. He turned them over to the medical section's lost and found. Lydia's mother was on a very strict schedule and Lydia would no doubt head to the medics at some point. As soon as she did, the diskettes would reach her.

Done and done. Midge had done something right at least.

Thoughts of Joshua plagued Midge, but he was haunted more by the fact that he felt no guilt. He'd injured the man, and not just slightly. The only thing he lamented was how stunned and disgusted Lydia had been. The way Lydia had pulled away....

I'd never hurt you. How could you even think that?

Then Queen had to go and hammer a final nail in the coffin. Maybe Midge should have explained that, also.

Groaning, Midge closed his eyes and resolved to answer that gaw-ro message.

He dragged himself into a sitting position and reached out, directly to his left, and touched the wall. "Accept call."

In the blink of an eye, a fifteen by fifteen screen appeared on the white surface and an uneasy grimace along with it.

Lydia's image on the interface came into focus. "Good morning."

Midge's heart stopped. He could only manage to whisper, "Good morning." He sat up, pulling the sheets higher around his naked waist. It must be four in the morning for you.

"Before you ask...." Lydia brushed her neatly combed hair out of her eyes. "I got the code to your channel from the medical archive. I took it in case of an emergency. I was scrolling through and saw your name."

Her rigid way of speaking shouldn't have come as much of a surprise. It seemed so far removed from the woman who'd run him down. Midge leaned closer to the screen. "Emergency? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Lydia didn't move a muscle. "I'd like to request your assistance, but perhaps you are busy."

The catastrophic situation with Joshua and then Queen was still fresh in Midge's mind. He almost said yes to being busy but behind Lydia's calm expression there was something else.

"No...if you need help, my brother—"

"I didn't ask for your brother. Please, not your brother." Lydia closed her eyes. "I asked for you, and only you. So if you're too busy—"

"I'll be right there." Midge meant to hurry to his feet but paused instead. "Do I have permission to enter your home at will?"

"For today. Yes," Lydia replied.

"I'll be right there," Midge said, and Lydia nodded, relief filling her face. The transmission ended.

Midge made a fast job of retrieving a new uniform from the closet panel and dragged it on. Everything in him said not to wear the nice one—it'd seem arrogant or boastful. The plain one would be more humble, maybe even pensive. In the end, he decided on the nicer uniform, he wanted to be respectful.

It took him all of five minutes to get ready. He put his hand against the wall and waited for it to liquefy. This time, too, making a portal took longer than it should. His pulse quickened at the prospect of traveling such a shaky portal—any portal—alone, but he didn't see an alternative. A short-distance portal was one thing but this one was another story.

No guts, no glory, he thought and shook his body free of jitters. Taking a deep breath, he entered through the steel of Lydia's front door without announcing himself.

The first thing to hit him was the rancid smell. It was so strong that he recoiled. He might have verbally commented but Lydia's presence drew his focus.

The petite noblewoman stood by the kitchen doorway, her expression serious and unfeeling. Midge couldn't say he knew Lydia well, but the careful way she presented herself did resonate. The young woman wasn't wearing a fancy outfit today, but she was dressed well, and her emotionless expression was hard to read.

Now Midge was worried. Actually, he was quite terrified, which wasn't a feeling that came to him easily. He wondered if Lydia's attitude was supposed to defuse his anxiety. To some degree it did, but overall, it made Midge act as seriously as he ever would—something he didn't do often.

When they were face to face, Lydia bowed her head. "Good morning. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

The house was eerie due to the silence. Midge managed a bow as well but looked past Lydia as he listened for anything or anyone.

His actions were keenly observed. "There is no one else here," Lydia said.

Midge meant to inquire as to why, but Lydia's stoic expression drew his focus.

"Um...H—How can I be of service?"

Lydia put her hands at her sides. That action caused her dress shirt buttons to twinkle. It was glass as far as Midge could tell. She was dressed nicely. Her hair was freshly trimmed and styled. Her outfit might have even been brand new, but the pricey accessories said otherwise. It was the sort of outfit worn on rare occasions, like a wedding or a funeral. So what could have prompted it today?

"I would like for you to...." Lydia paused and searched Midge's eyes, maybe wondering what it was she would like for him to do. In that moment, she didn't really seem to know.

Midge waited, almost leaning forward in anticipation but Lydia didn't say anything else for some time. A logical response would be to encourage her to answer, but Midge couldn't bring himself to.

"Fix it," The woman said, finally.

Midge blinked. "Fix it?" he asked, remaining rigid as he scanned around to see what might have been broken. "Fix what?"

"I don't like your tone." Lydia shivered as she sucked in a haggard breath. "If you're incapable then leave. I do not need an idiot here. You may go."

In that instance, when Midge's eyes settled on the woman before him, it dawned on him just what might have been broken—whose composure might have been broken.

Lydia trembled. It wasn't much, and she seemed to be willing herself to stop but had little success. When Midge saw her pained expression, despite her proud posture, his own attitude changed.

Something was wrong, and now that he'd entered, he was involved, too. Simply walking out of there wasn't an option so he stood at attention. "No, ma'am. I'd...I'd like to help. If you could please wait in the kitchen, I will go through the house and see what I can take care of for you."

Midge waited for Lydia to smile, to chuckle, to brush off the formality but the stoic woman set her face in a defiant frown.

"I should accompany you."

With a careful observation of Lydia's grim expression, Midge thought, No, no you really shouldn't. That's the last thing you should do, but instead he came to another conclusion. "I do not want you to get your clothing soiled. If you would please wait, I'd be much obliged."

And that was that. Lydia lowered her gaze and nodded as she walked past him to sit in the kitchen. Midge noticed the two cups set out. Seeing Lydia settled down with a cup in her hands, Midge waited for the woman to drink from it, but she only lowered it again.

The action was strange so Midge stepped inside to investigate. What he saw gave him pause. Lydia's cup was in fact empty but the other one, the larger one, was still full, the contents no doubt tepid from staying at room temperature too long.

He found a kettle on the stove with plenty of hot water inside.

Whatever had happened, it stole Lydia's drive, because it appeared that once the small woman sat down, she was unable to find the energy to stand again.

It was stupid to worry about making tea, but Midge'd feel better if he knew Lydia was staying put, so he hurried to familiarize himself with the room. It took a while, but he left Lydia there with two full cups.

The smell. As soon as Midge exited the kitchen, he thought about the smell, and what it might have been. It wasn't a dead body. He was sure of it. As he walked, he became less certain though. The door at the end of the hall on the right probably led to Lydia's room. It was customary for the future head of the household to inhabit the room closest to the exit. In the event of an emergency, the potential leader of the house was precious cargo, after all.

Having never gone around this particular house before, when Midge reached Lydia's door, the only room seeming to exist in the house, he looked left instead of right and found another long passage.

That smell grew stronger. The house was empty, that was what Lydia had said, but that was not what Midge sensed. He found the source of the smell—at least he thought so—some doors down. Unlike the others, which were plain, this one was decorated with a rose stencil above it.

Midge took in a deep breath, which took a lot of effort, but he needed it. He wasn't one for drama or second guessing, so he simply touched the steel of the door and when it liquefied, he walked in. He instantly walked back out again.

He needed a minute.

The posture of the woman's body, the state she was in.... She wasn't dead at least, but he had to remind himself of that. He sensed a pulse.

Midge looked down the hall to where he knew Lydia was; his heart broke for her.

When he entered the room again, he looked down at his boots, trying to focus in the dim light. The state of the room was not something that was instantaneous; it had taken time to get to this point. There was even filth on the walls, but that wasn't as much of a problem as the source. He could only wonder how long it had taken to get this bad.

A thought reached him and he was surprised by it; it had been months since he had heard a random thought from anyone. It had to be Lydia's. That stony disposition of hers must have been showing wear if Midge could hear fleeting worries.

As Midge stood in that room, he imagined Lydia, sitting in the kitchen, watching her tea. Lydia must have been panicked, because her concerns were clearer.

Maybe he'll run past on his way out. Or better yet, he'll come into this kitchen, and spew some venom before leaving and telling everyone about what he'd seen. Letting everyone know what a spectacle this screwed up family is. Making a show of us to friends and whoever'd listen to hear about the once proud family whose matriarch had lost her mind to such a point that she....

Midge exited the room and the sound of the cup breaking gave him pause. The way Lydia had trembled before, that vision came back to him, and he calmed. No, bothering her now would just be cruel. Instead, Midge turned to the door once more. Everything told him to leave; it would be quite easy to—he couldn't quite rationalize why he shouldn't.

Calling the medics would be the best option. They would clean the woman, and perhaps see about making proper arrangements to tidy up the house. That was what logic had been telling him. He should look for help. He shouldn't be here.

But he was here, and he wasn't leaving. Nothing else mattered, only that he fixed what he was bade to. It was the least he could do for someone putting so much blind trust in him.

Midge emerged from that room an hour later, forever changed, in more ways than one.

He reached the kitchen, surprised, but not shocked to see a broken cup on the floor

Lydia had the energy to stand and shot to her feet at the sight of him. Eyes still fixed on the broken mug, Midge tried to formulate what he should say.

They met eyes and he could see only dread. Lydia had been waiting a long time, and now she stood with her hands at her sides, her posture stern. She was ready, she stood ready for a verbal slap in the face, for the disgust she'd maybe see in Midge's gaze, the small woman was waiting for the disgrace.

As calmly as Midge could, with the practiced ease and expression of a former medic delivering bad news, Midge said without feeling, "She's alive. I can confirm that. So rest at ease. I have cleaned the room. Without having been in it before, I cannot reset its state. I had to use more conventional methods."

Lydia blinked. Tears swelled in her eyes as she looked Midge over.

Midge's uniform hadn't survived the cleanup. He hoped the young noblewoman would forgive him that much.

"I used several of your bath towels and they're in the trash now," Midge said, "I'd recommend that you simply leave them there—"

"Trash?" Lydia bristled. "That's my mother—she's a legend. Who are you referring to as trash?"

Eyes wide, Midge swallowed down his response. He decided to try again. "I did not mean anything by the words I've chosen. The towels have been thrown away. I found some cleaner in the staff room and like I said, I cleaned the room. I...I want to clean the...her...but...I'm an E, I...I can't touch anyone physically."

Lydia's face reddened as Midge spoke, her expression was stone cold.

"I've touched you. So don't feed me that imp-shit about E's can't touch, because I've done it. So what are you trying to say?"

Midge meant to argue the point, explain why Lydia was an exception but the woman trembled harder, so Midge considered his options. He nodded and said, "Very well. I'd like to have permission to open your house, then."

"Open? What do you mean by opening my house?"

Lydia wasn't going to be standing up for long if her body's reaction was any indication. But it meant a lot to Lydia that she was treated with respect, especially now, so Midge was sure to do just that.

"Most houses of the Colony have a field, it's very faint, it's meant to keep E's from causing damage there. Almost all wealthy houses built nearly 100 years ago have it. This one has one of the basic prototypes. If I do carry out these duties, I will need to use my abilities, so I don't want any limits."

Lydia calmed but asked, "And—and it's dangerous? Open-opening the house or whatever?"

"Quite," Midge said.

Their eyes locked until Lydia nodded. "I trust you. Do whatever you need to do." When Midge thanked her and turned to walk away, Lydia's thoughts engulfed him. What now? This E's come here this early. He's literally covered in someone else's shit, and for what? For a brat who can't even say thank you?

"May—maybe I should help," Lydia offered.

Midge's stomach turned, less so for the task he was about to continue, and more for the idea of Lydia bearing witness to that room. It had been locked from the inside, so she must not have seen. No. No one should see their mother like that. If he could keep Lydia in the dark about the details, even for a moment longer, he'd have to.

Midge forced a smile. He didn't turn back as he shook his head, "No. You called me here. That alone was hard enough," he said, making his way down the hall. "I will need awhile, so don't worry if you don't hear from me for a bit."