Assuming she survived, of course.

Nobody paid Iona or Victor any mind as they made their way to the tower, where they’d agreed to meet Saori at the entrance. There was no sign of her. If she’d been successful in getting the king out then she should be there by now. Saori had told them that in this eventuality they should move on to the second phase without her. But now as they were facing this prospect Iona didn’t like it at all.

“She might need help,” said Iona. “Someone should go in.”

Victor glanced through the open doors of the tower. “Alright. Who?” It was plain he didn’t want to and didn’t want to admit it. He’d been much more confident at the bureau with his army of citizens around him. Now it was just the two of them.

“I’ll be as fast as I can,” said Iona, handing the key to Victor and stepping inside the tower.

The program was spreading through the building. The citizens were all focused on each other and didn’t even register Iona as she walked through the lobby. The huge spiral stairwell at the center, which was usually well guarded, was completely open. It seemed too good to be true.

But after a moment’s thought she realized it didn’t matter if it was too good to be true. She had to go up the stairs regardless. At this point every option might easily end in her death. She told herself this was a liberating state of affairs, in a way, as she started to climb.

* * *

Iona realized something was wrong as she approached the eleventh floor. Until now every floor she had passed had been occupied by citizens reprogramming each other and then looking for more citizens. Sometimes they passed Iona on the stairs as they ran out of citizens to convert on one floor and went up or down looking for more. Iona had called Saori’s name at each floor: she wondered if she ought to call the king’s name as well but she worried shouting “Your Highness” might attract the wrong sort of attention.

Confirmation that something was wrong arrived when the severed head of a citizen rolled down the stairs past her and she had to dodge otherwise it would’ve hit her on the shin. The head was followed by the body, which almost knocked her off her feet.

Iona looked up. She could hear scuffles coming from a higher floor. The sound of wood connecting with wood. And then another citizen—this one with its head still attached to its shoulders, but with a splintered left leg—came tumbling down toward her. It was trying to stand but was too badly damaged. Iona gripped the handrail and pulled herself close to the wall but as the citizen continued its uncontrolled descent its head collided with hers. A dazed Iona clung to the railing, unable to focus: for a moment she could only tell which way was up and which was down from the sound of the citizen still falling away from her while the conflict continued somewhere above.