Lydia nearly drowned in the pool of servants. Back and forth they raced, trying to outdo even that fake raid. It was posturing, that much Lydia knew, but she allowed it without even a slight comment.

Joshua didn't have to show his high status. He had his Coming of Age party later than everyone else. That alone was a symbol of his power.

Forehead against her palm, Lydia rested it there. She just wanted to talk to Mrs. Laurence. The woman was there. Unfortunately, she was dressed in a pretty frock, an apron around her waist, going to and from the kitchen as if she was a part of the staff. That presence alone revolted Lydia, but not as much as the disdainful look Mrs. Laurence gave her. Worst yet, her servile attitude toward her son was beyond Lydia's imagination.

The woman knelt while handing Joshua's tray over. Lydia had finally had enough.

"Ma'am, could we get a minute of your time?" Lydia asked, trying with all her might not to jump up and run out of the house. As much as Lydia hated being there, she could see in Mrs. Laurence's cold eyes that the woman hated to be seen like this. She kept on, however, following Joshua's commands as if he ruled all within the house.

It took another ten minutes before the buzzing of the room died down and it was just the three of them, Mrs. Laurence sharing Joshua's food.

Lydia was hungry, but all traces of her appetite faded when Joshua boxed a plate over.

"It's cold. Bring us another one. Now."

Mrs. Laurence made her way out and two servants came in to tend to the mess.

"No. Leave it," Joshua ordered. "The old bitch can get it."

And she did.

Lydia checked the time on her spare empty-as-hell diskette again and again. Thoughts of Osbourne's brother, the quiet one, came and went. Lydia wondered if the man was comfortable there, or frightened. What would Bradley do if he got out of hand? Technically, Bradley did sign off on him, so if the guards came maybe they would just give the E a sedative. She wished she knew. This 'dinner' was taking forever.

In an effort to figure out just how long she might have to endure it, Lydia asked, "Is your sister joining us, too?"

Joshua paused with a piece of bread by his mouth. "Why would she?"

Lydia had no answer. With someone else there, it'd feel less like a trap-date. She sat back in her chair. "I just wondered. It's...it's getting late. I do want to...um, my mother'll worry."

"Oh," Joshua said, taking a bite. "You can always use my private interface if you want to call her and let her know you're spending the night."

He said it casually enough, but that weak grin of his was more accurate in betraying his insecurity. Those feelings rang true, because the only reason Lydia didn't fly out of her seat and burrow her way through the concrete, an unknown fall be damned, was because she was too petrified with disgust to actually move.

"I...I don't think that's a good idea," Lydia managed with as much calm as her legendary acting skills could pull off. The coldest day in hell ever, she thought.

Joshua didn't answer.

Lydia hoped that meant all this nonsense would come to an end. The sullen expression on Joshua's face was hard for Lydia to bear. She needed to leave.

When Mrs. Laurence was close enough, Lydia took a chance. "Ma'am. We...I've got an E, and, I wondered if you could give me some advice."

She didn't answer.

Lydia looked down the length of the long table to see Joshua's casual posture. Resting on his left elbow, Joshua took great interest in picking at the bread roll in his hands.

Eventually, he muttered, "Lydia's got an Elemental because the thing stole her money, but it's not right in the head. A bit addlepated, and she wants to know how we can fix him."

Mrs. Laurence paused in gathering up some of Joshua's empty dishes as she listened. She let out a long sigh and said, "Relinquish it to the Colony and pretend you never had it."

Lydia blinked. "Ma'am?"

"Assuming it's really sustained so much injury that it's gotten brain damage, it's a useless catch. Damaged E's cannot always absorb matter, thus they require natural food. That is far more money than anyone can afford nowadays. It'll bankrupt you, so rid yourself of it."

The stance did make sense, especially with it needing organic food.

One thing nagged at Lydia, however. "What'll...what'll happen to him? A High ELETE gave him to me."

"What should happen to it?" Mrs. Laurence asked. "It'll likely be put to use somewhere." She collected a neat stack of plates as she said, "In my day, we'd have put it down. But now the Colony'll waste time and resources on a lost cause. You said it stole from you?"

Lydia swallowed down her response.

"That's different then," Mrs. Laurence said. "You should allow it to make good first. Refusing an Elemental the chance to do so comes with great misfortune for its master. Best to send it to ground and crush it that way."

"To ground?" Lydia asked, blinking.

Mrs. Laurence's scowl deepened. "Hasn't your mother taught you anything? Normal humans come from the earth, but Elementals are from stone. A strong E will return to stone again upon death or distress. So you crush the statue to keep it from returning. In my day you go with the trio; stab, encase, break."

Mrs. Laurence was one of Lydia's mother's oldest acquaintances—rarely could Daphne D'Witt call someone a friend. Lydia had spent a lot of time in Joshua's family's presence. She and Joshua had played at their mothers' feet, listening to gossip and backhanded compliments. Today, Lydia saw someone different. She wasn't sure what Joshua had done to transform this proud woman into a bitter wench. Maybe this was the real her. Other than a very vocal stance against E's, Mrs. Laurence'd always seemed strong, but kind.

Until now, Mrs. Laurence's icy narrative about wanting to kill E's made Lydia untrusting of her words because the woman seemed above petty violence. This time was different. For some reason, Lydia knew Mrs. Laurence was serious and Lydia took the words to heart.

Joshua made no noise as he stood. He sounded younger—defeated—when he muttered, "I'm going out for a moment. Please be sure to let Lydia out politely."

It wasn't like Joshua to give up, but he wasn't very good at taking hints, and Lydia's less than subtle hell no refusal to spend the night with him must have resonated deeply.

Riddled with guilt for having refused Joshua's earlier advances so bluntly, Lydia watched his retreat. It wasn't like Lydia was too picky about who shared her bed. To her, sex was a healthy recreation, but the prospect of sex with Joshua was something else. Every time Lydia considered it, her body would shut down, heavy from the revulsion.

Joshua certainly looked the part of a storybook suitor, and his home was magnificent, beautiful. Whatever the source of Lydia's reluctance, that didn't matter, she'd survived another day not married to that walking puppet.

The eerie silence drove Lydia to focus on Mrs. Laurence and the stone, cold expression she found there.

"Do you think you're better than him? Is that it?" Mrs. Laurence asked, seemingly reading her mind. "Do you think for a moment you are above my son—my family?"

Blood rushed to Lydia's face as she struggled to answer, maybe even apologize.

"I want you and your trashy clothing out of my house. Do you hear me?" She put the dishes down and the apron along with it as she advanced. "Never in my years had I thought I'd have to be in the same section with the likes of you, let alone the same dining room. Leave before I call the guards to throw you and your two-day outfit out of my home, you sorry good-for-nothing-whelp."

The vitriol in her voice shocked Lydia beyond speech. Mrs. Laurence had never addressed Lydia in such a manner. One glance at the door where Joshua had disappeared, then to the man's mother and Lydia could barely breathe. If Mrs. Laurence was taking retribution on Joshua's behalf Lydia couldn't blame her.

"Trash," she said, her glare stern. "By the Colony, I'll be damned if I'll have trash like you at my table. Why are you still here, idiot?"

Although her feet shook, Lydia stood. Within a matter of seconds, she was by the wall, muttering the code for her home.

Traveling in the Colony had been difficult until the System was developed. Despite its stupid name, it was the one thing they literally couldn't live without.

The wall softened, melting as it crept over her shoulders. The common warmth behind her signaled the portal's formation. In a flash, a force yanked her through that partially liquefied surface. The whiplash effect could make people sick if they ever panicked, so Lydia was sure to let the computer do its job. The skin on her back tightened and the tingling in her spine traveled to her neck. Her body snapped like a rubber band as she was yanked through the System and emerged in the location she'd requested.

Years of practice had taught her how to land on her feet. The System couldn't drag her through fast enough. Relief filled her once she exited the wall and stepped into her kitchen. With that relief came a flood of other emotions. It had been years since she'd experienced something like this. She spent the first hour at home in a daze, trying to forget the disgust written on the woman's face. It was no doubt similar to that of her own when Joshua hinted at a possible outcome for the night.

Mrs. Laurence's wrath did concern Lydia, but not as much as Joshua's feelings. She should apologize, she decided.

Lydia lumbered to her bedroom from the kitchen, casting a glance down the hall to make sure Dizzy wasn't sprawled on the floor, like she'd been a time or two when she'd taken too much medicine.

At the interface before the bed, Lydia didn't need to look up the call-code, she still knew it by heart.

In the past, she'd been to Joshua's house so often she was nearly family—Mrs. Laurence had commented as much.

As soon as Lydia entered it, the word, "Blocked," appeared against a black screen.

Her stomach dropped. Blocked by Joshua himself or Mrs. Laurence, she wasn't sure. She tried a few more times then gave up.

"Mist." A part of her lamented possibly losing Joshua's friendship. She didn't really want it, but Joshua was the least demanding of all her obligations. Even Osbourne's brother. "The E...." Lydia gasped.

The sense of unease she'd felt doubled. She had intended to go back to the theater before heading home.

A few hurried taps along the interface later, the words, "Closed. Please contact via a private channel," flashed.

"Private channel?" Lydia wondered. "What's his gaw-ro private channel?" Twenty minutes of scrolling through variations of 'Bradley' brought her to a grim conclusion. "Shit. I can't find him."

She stared at the interface for some time, even as she stood. There was no traveling to a closed business. Had Joshua planned this? An excuse for Lydia to spend the night, perhaps? Either way, there was nothing left to do but wait till morning. Hopefully Osbourne's simple brother would be okay.

As she made her way to the shower, she wondered what the theater did with E's at night. If they had a place to sleep or if they'd just leave him sitting there on the stage. With how hostile he'd become for a short time, Lydia hoped they hadn't shackled him. Anyway, there wasn't much she could do until tomorrow.

"Please be okay..." Lydia whispered. "Shit."

Busy chatter from beyond her bedroom door prompted her to rush out—fearful for Dizzy.

All worries and thoughts of Osbourne's twin faded as Milton exited the kitchen. His slender six-foot frame afforded him long strides as he marched out. He wore a frown, but his face lit up when he caught sight of his daughter.

"Hey, sprog! What kept ya?"

Relief and elation washed over Lydia. Milton was back, and he'd come the very same day. Lydia's family didn't hug, but for a split second she thought about embracing the man. That feeling drowned and died in the crescendo of her mother's cheerful voice.

"Darling!" Dizzy gushed, "Do you need anything? We have dinner and—"

"Yes. Yes, you've said that," Milton snapped, turning to make his way down the hall. "I told you. I'm not hungry."

"Well, what about a snack?" Dizzy was aglow, her heavenly strawberry blond hair tucked into a neat bun. She had spent a lot of time making herself presentable because she looked stunning.

Seeing Dizzy like that was a thing of pride, but Milton's fleeting figure dulled those emotions. Lydia felt embarrassed for her mother.

Dizzy called after Milton who didn't afford her even a glance, "I'll have the cook bring you a bite. All right?"

The door slid shut after Milton with a whoosh and Dizzy flinched. When she turned to Lydia, however, her face was still the definition of happiness. She put her hands on her hips, her cheeks round and bright with joy.

"Youuuuu.... You called him, didn't you?" She hurried to hug Lydia and then stepped back and checked her appearance to make sure nothing was out of place. "You didn't have to tell him that I missed him. You know he's busy. But maybe if I wasn't so proud, if I could tell him myself, then he'd know, huh?"

She stood there, her hands on her hips, brimming with happiness and Lydia wanted to smile, she really did. But for some reason, she fought back tears instead.

"Yeah." Lydia's voice cracked. "He even said he'd be busy for a few months, but look how fast he came, huh?" A thought occurred to her. "Is...is she here, too?"

The smile on her mother's face faded. She looked old as she turned and peered into the kitchen. "You want anything? It's making a feast," she said, gesturing to the busy maid bustling about.

A feast? Did that mean Milton came back with credits? Enough credits to feed them so lavishly? Lydia looked at her mother's lean body then down to herself and wondered where all the food would go, because they were not a family that was big on eating. But food, any food at this point, was welcome.

Her mother seldom referred to her maid, Stella, as anything but 'it'. Lydia cringed each time she heard the term. Nobody should ever be dehumanized like that.

In the past, Dizzy had hated that awful label, too, but she had grown into it. Over the years, it had become something of an unsaid agreement that the maid—the other woman—would be rarely seen and never spoken to.

Lydia walked in to see the tiny woman teetering on the stool as she peered into the pot.

On a normal day Dizzy would never have allowed a hug. Now she hesitated. Her bony arm around Lydia's shoulder felt unfamiliar and unaccustomed. Dizzy didn't hug. Today was the first time Lydia realized...she no longer allowed them, either.

Whenever Stella was around, Lydia's mother showed her more affection, embracing her for no reason. This time, she was making a production of it.

"Lydia says she wants your specialty," Dizzy cooed.

Lydia wasn't sure what the maid's ethnicity was, she had thought Stella was Chinese at first, then doubted that because of her extended name. The Colony had a lot of mixed race people but the fact Lydia could tell Stella was Asian, or part Asian, made Lydia curious. It meant her mix was not as eclectic as others in the Colony, and for that alone Lydia wondered why. Usually, only the wealthy were selective about race.

Stella's petite form wobbled on the stool before the stove. Her movements careful, she stepped down and rushed around the kitchen, gathering ingredients.

She was an awful maid. That much everyone could agree on. Lately she'd gotten better, but this level of better had taken years to achieve.

Lydia wondered what her father even saw in the woman.

Stella was short, and didn't appear to know how to dress herself well. That shoulder-length black bob of hair had been the same style every damn day for the last nineteen years. Blurred memories of Stella came and went, usually ending with her staying in her designated area of the house until someone called for her.

Sometimes she'd just been gone.

Lydia hated those times. That meant Milton was gone, too.

When Stella caught sight of Lydia, she smiled warmly, but Lydia shot her a loathsome look and the maid lowered her gaze. Bad enough she had Dizzy's husband, Lydia wanted to remind the woman she wouldn't make off with attention from the matriarch's daughter, too.

Dizzy gripped her arm and Lydia patted her hand.

Two hours later, they waited for the final preparations to come to an end. Against her mother's wishes, Lydia played a board game with Milton at the large dining room table.

Dizzy kept it together. Lydia had expected to hear her mother spout off a light reprimand about using a place designated for eating in such a manner, even as they played.

Nothing.

She sat quietly at the other end of the table, watching them.

Quiet was good. Quiet meant they could all get along. Quiet meant they could pretend to be a family...even a little.

Lydia moved her game pieces to the sound of Milton's chuckle, but Dizzy was who Lydia was proud of because she was making an honest effort to not try and seek well-coveted, and well-deserved, attention.

As selfish as it was, Lydia sometimes wished she'd be allowed that attention as well. And Milton, he was back the same day, too. They were sitting together at one table and everything was amicable.

Piece after piece disappeared on the table interface, collected into a stack on Milton's area of the board, but Lydia didn't mind.

Once the food had been set out around their game, Milton beamed, almost salivating. "All by your lonesome, 'eh?" Milton asked. "What about the cook?"

Lydia's mother's voice was like a song when she said, "I gave him the night off. He won't be needed."

Milton's smile fell. "She's not going to have any help while we're here?" Dizzy's indignant shrug was met with a sigh. Milton said, "Well, sit down and have a bite, Stell. There's plenty—"

"Absolutely not," Dizzy interrupted.

When Lydia saw her mother stand, hands on the table, she was careful to put her own game pieces back.

"This is still a family, and this household will pretend to have some dignity. Eating with servants isn't proper," Dizzy announced. Milton glared at her and she stared back, equally spiteful. "But then again, I should bear in mind that the idea of proper manners sometimes escapes you."

Lydia watched the table. She knew it was coming and it did. Milton stood also, his teeth gritted.

"Bitch, I will burn you in your fucking sleep."

A stillness fell over them. Lydia finally remembered how to breathe. When she found the courage, she glanced at her mother who went pale with hurt and humiliation. Dizzy lowered herself into her chair, and Lydia felt even worse.

Milton remembered himself because he sighed. He glanced at Lydia and turned to Stella. Before he could reach out for her hand, the maid slapped him. That single slap made the air soften somehow.

Still with hands extended, Milton closed his eyes and exhaled. He turned back to look at the slighted matriarch sitting slumped at the table.

"My apologies. I'll take my leave if it's all the same to you." He waited, and when Dizzy didn't speak. He tried again with well-practiced feigned composure, "Daphne...?"

Lydia's mother finally nodded.

As Milton walked out, he cast Stella a glance that wasn't returned.

The petite servant was still watching the ground. It was only after Dizzy left that Lydia defrosted from her posture and sat back.

Lydia scanned the beautifully decorated table and her eyes settled on the game pieces. She picked one up, intending to take the last of Milton's abandoned whites. It fell out of her trembling hands. Someone caught it.

Lydia was surprised to learn Stella hadn't departed as well. She glanced from the outstretched hand offering the game piece to the maid's somber frown. Stella attempted to say something and Lydia was sure to cut her off. What could she possibly say?

"Say one word to me, you home-wrecking imp-cow, and you'll be the one on fire." Stella clammed up, and Lydia got to her feet. Her gut roiled. Gesturing to the meal, she muttered, "Throw this mist out."