Life is Funny - 2/27

Haley said nothing. She was taken to a cell. Questions about assassins and conspiracies were put to her by different men in the same gray uniforms. She lost sleep and weight, her life transformed into a sprocket with a fouled chain. The questions repeated until she was ready to scream. Why not ask about her journal?

She was released without explanation, and spent a week afraid to leave the apartment. Haley finds it morbid that the first place she visits is this spot, but she has to know her journal is gone. A stench rises above the black crust. It is the reek of the burst gut of the Marquis. Haley pretends this is imagined.

The smear flows into the gutter, where it disappears in caked grease and industrial effluence. The brown spine of her journal isn’t among the discarded metal and tubes. The pale pages aren't bleeding ink into the still puddles. The journal is gone. She is slow in returning to her apartment, her uneven heartbeat a reflection of her uncertain feelings.

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Morning sunlight seeps into the Interblock Imperial Library through discolored panes. The entrance hall windows are stained from the industry of Shaletown’s surface mines. Today is Springday, and Haley sits at the reception desk. Her midnight search for the journal has left her exhausted, but she dares not miss work.

The hall is small and warm. The weight of the labyrinthine vault of archives is at Haley's back. Master Librarian Nishida is in Junction City for the week, so there isn't much work to be done. If Haley had her journal, she would be discretely copying books scheduled for internment. Instead she worries her shoulder-length blonde hair, and picks at a yellowed display plate.