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Stephanie and Derek decided to have lunch in the park on Sunday. They both agreed this would be the perfect opportunity to invite Vallery and see if they could get her to help map out the fifth floor. Of course, Vallery was excited because she got to spend time with Steph’s new boyfriend.
Stephanie and Derek chose a park far from the city—no buildings, no crowds, no cameras. Just grass, trees, and the steady hum of wind through leaves.
Vallery arrived smiling, immediately taking Derek in.
“So,” she said, sitting down, “did you like the dress she wore on your first date?”
Derek didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
Val grinned. “I picked it out.”
He nodded once. “You have excellent taste. Steph’s lucky to have you.”
Val smiled, genuinely pleased.
Stephanie waited. She always did.
Then—casually—
“Val, I wanted to ask you something.”
“All ears.”
Stephanie kept her voice light. “I’ve been hearing… things. Nothing concrete. Just that the fifth floor’s been busier than usual.”
Val raised an eyebrow. “Busy how?”
“That’s the thing,” Stephanie said. “I don’t know.”
She let the silence sit.
“You go up there sometimes,” Stephanie added. “I thought maybe you’d noticed something. Layout changes. New rooms. Equipment that doesn’t match what they say they’re working on.”
Val leaned back slightly. “You’re asking me to snoop.”
“No,” Stephanie said quickly. “I’m asking you to notice.”
Derek said nothing—but his eyes stayed on Val now, calm and focused.
Val studied Stephanie for a moment. “You know what they say about curiosity.”
“I do,” Stephanie said. “And if you’re not comfortable, we drop it. No hard feelings.”
Another pause.
Then Val smiled—slowly. “If they didn’t want people curious, they shouldn’t have made it so interesting.”
Stephanie exhaled without realizing she’d been holding her breath.
“I’ll keep my eyes open,” Val continued. “Next time I’m up there.”
“And Val,” Stephanie said carefully, “this stays between us.”
Val nodded. “Of course.”
Derek finally spoke. Just once.
“Observation only,” he said. “No risks.”
Val glanced at him, then back at Stephanie. “Got it.”
They finished lunch like nothing had happened. But something had.
Later that week, Stephanie waited for a quiet moment.
The workday ended in a slow spill of people exiting the building, conversations fading into the open air. When Val stepped off the elevator, Stephanie fell into step beside her.
“How was your day?” Stephanie asked.
“Not bad,” Val replied.
They crossed the parking lot together. A car door slammed somewhere behind them. When they reached Val’s car, Stephanie stopped and reached into her bag, pulling out a slim case.
“What’s that?” Val asked.
“Eyewear,” Stephanie said simply.
Val opened the case.
The glasses were sleek. Lightweight. Stylish enough to pass for something expensive but forgettable. Nothing about them screamed prototype or classified. If anything, they looked like something a design executive would wear to a meeting.
Val lifted them, turning them slightly.
“These aren’t standard,” she said.
Stephanie smiled faintly. “No.”
“What do they do?”
“They capture,” Stephanie replied. “Line-of-sight only. No interaction required.”
Val’s expression sharpened. “Capture what?”
“What you see.”
Silence.
“You want me to record the fifth floor,” Val said carefully.
“Yes.”
Val didn’t ask why. Instead, she examined the glasses more closely, running a finger along the frame.
“No indicator lights,” she noted. “No controls.”
“They start when you put them on,” Stephanie said. “They stop when you take them off.”
Val looked up. “Resolution?”
“High enough to matter.”
That earned a small, impressed smile.
“And what exactly am I looking for?”
Stephanie met her eyes. “Anything that doesn’t fit.”
Val studied her for a long moment.
“This isn’t curiosity anymore,” she said quietly.
Stephanie didn’t deny it.
“You’re sure you want me involved?”
Stephanie nodded once. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t. You know I trust you.”
Val closed the case.
“I’ll wear them next time I’m called up,” she said. “But Steph—if I see something dangerous—”
“We stop,” Stephanie said immediately. “No heroics. No risks.”
Val smiled. “Funny. That almost sounded like security protocol.”
She opened her car door. “All right. Observation only.”
Stephanie managed a smile. “They’re pretty stylish. You’re going to look great uncovering corporate secrets.”
Val shook her head, smiling as she pulled away.
Stephanie stayed where she was until the car disappeared from view.
Only then did she realize her hands were shaking.
Two days later, while at work, Vallery’s cell phone beeped. A meeting notification appeared on the screen:
Fifth Floor- Audio Interface Meeting 11:30 am, Conference room 5B
Her immediate reaction was to check her bag. The case with the glasses was still there. She breathed a sigh of relief, and then the nervousness started to hit her. There was nothing to be nervous about, all she had to do was to wear the glasses and walk around the floor, easy-peasy. The meeting would last 30 minutes, and she would be out of there.
Val left about 5 minutes early. She slipped on the glasses for the first time and entered the elevator. When the elevator doors opened, the fifth floor greeted her with a silence that felt intentional. The air was cooler here. Not uncomfortably so—just precise. The lighting was brighter, whiter, as if shadows weren’t welcome. Hallways branched off in clean lines, each marked with subtle signage that said just enough and nothing more.
Val walked slowly. Naturally. As if she belonged.
She passed glass-walled labs, each one revealing fragments of work—equipment humming softly, technicians moving with practiced efficiency. No clutter. No personal items. Everything here felt temporary, even permanent things.
The glasses captured it all. Layout. Room spacing. Door placement.
She noticed something else, too. Certain areas absorbed sound differently. The hum of machinery would fade abruptly near specific walls, replaced by a dull quiet that suggested reinforcement—shielding.
Interesting.
Val reached the conference room early. She put her things down on the conference table and continued her stroll to the restroom. She made sure to cover the entire floor, checking everything out with her new glasses.
She returned to the conference room and quietly took a seat near the end of the table and waited. One by one, others arrived—four employees she recognized vaguely from cross-department work. Smart. Focused. All wearing green-striped badges.
Then Dr. Elara Quinn entered. She didn’t rush. She didn’t smile. She simply took her place at the head of the table, and the room aligned itself around her.
“Thank you for coming,” Dr. Quinn said. Her voice was calm, measured, and unmistakably confident. “Let’s begin.”
The meeting focused on audio fidelity, latency, and signal clarity. Quinn asked tough questions. The kind that assumed deep understanding and punished vague answers.
Val answered when prompted—carefully, clearly.
At one point, Dr. Quinn paused mid-sentence.
“Ms. Harper,” she said, turning slightly. “Your assessment of interference thresholds—can you elaborate?”
Val did. Not long. Not short. Just enough.
Dr. Quinn listened without interruption. When Val finished, Quinn nodded once.
“Exactly,” she said. “That’s the distinction most people miss.”
The meeting wrapped up efficiently. As others gathered their things, Dr. Quinn looked back to Val.
“Ms. Harper,” she said. “A word?”
Val felt it then—that subtle shift. Opportunity always felt like this. They went to the big corner office down the hall. Dr. Quinn’s office was quieter than the rest of the floor. Softer lighting. Thicker walls. A great view.
When Val entered the office, she immediately noticed a refrigerated cabinet against the far wall. It had a glass front, and it was temperature-controlled. Inside were neatly arranged vials—rows of liquids in varying colors: amber, pale blue, gold, clear.
Organized. Labeled. Untouched.
Dr. Quinn saw Vallery looking at it.
“Controlled compounds,” she said casually. “Prototype materials.”
Val nodded, filing the image away.
“I wanted to speak with you about your work,” Dr. Quinn continued. “Your understanding of neuro-communication is… remarkable.”
“Thank you,” Val said.
“You see patterns,” Quinn added. “Where others see data.”
Val said nothing. Dr. Quinn folded her hands. “I’m assembling a more permanent team here on the fifth floor. Select personnel. Expanded clearance. Substantial compensation.”
She let the words hang.
“I think you would be an excellent fit.”
Val’s heart rate increased—but only slightly.
“That’s… flattering,” she said.
“Think about it,” Dr. Quinn replied. “We’ll speak again soon.”
Val nodded.
As she left the office, she felt the weight of the glasses on her face.
Still silent. Still watching. She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button. Only when the doors closed did she allow herself to exhale. She had seen more than enough.
And Stephanie was going to want every second of it. Val thought to herself, ‘How much of a pay increase is substantial compensation?’