=38=

*Later, in the elevator on her way to Human Resources, Neena will recall this highly-charged and ambiguous exchange. Had the Chief Interrogator taken advantage of the slim and slimy moment of barely permitted corporate intimacy to pass her a secret note?

It hardly seems likely, but still-- 

She opens her hand, up to now closed tightly, self-protectively, in a tense, unconscious fist, and surreptitiously glances down into her sweaty palm. Her hand is empty, as the surveillance cameras will no doubt confirm.

In retrospect, it’s no wonder. It figures.

The Chief Interrogator would be too careful to leave any evidence of misdoing. No, if any message has been passed it would be fleeting and hieroglyphic, disappearing virtually on contact, unrecorded and irretrievable, the tickle, for instance, of his fingernail on her palm. If she is to get the message, if there is a message, she’ll have to reconstruct it from memory, or, more likely, from her imagination, such as it is.

In other words, she’ll have to make it up out of whole-cloth.

If it’s not too late already.

The elevator doors slide open

Is it too late already?

This is when we find out.

When the elevator doors slide open.

If it’s not too late already, the time is now.