The light descended from the sky and settled nearby. She cracked an eye just enough to make out the shape of a Patriot security drone silhouetted against the backdrop of the outer wall.

“Step inside, please,” came a voice.

Willa took a final glance at the carnage and headed for the drone. When she was clear of the glare, the door opened to reveal a nice-looking man standing inside. He was in his early forties with a tanned face and a full head of brassy hair. His beige suit set off a bright pink tie and matching pocket square that immediately made Willa think of country clubs – if those still existed someplace. Her eyes were drawn to a gold pin in the shape of the letter “P” with the stem plunged through an anatomical heart that rested against his lapel.

“Yes, well, the newer insignias are terribly bland, are they not?” He spoke as if already in mid-conversation. “I suppose I flout the corporate message by remaining loyal to the original logo after a rebrand.”

“I’ve seen you at our station before, I think,” Willa said, “but I’m afraid I don’t recall your name.”

“Jesper Olden.” His voice had the velvety timbre of wealth. “Patriot security. Please, step in from the cold.” He took her hand and helped her inside.

“You don’t look like security,” she said, forgetting herself, then quickly added, “I mean – my apologies, it’s been a long day. You just don’t see people dressed like you many times in the year. Especially not out in the districts.”

“No offense taken, Ms Wallace.” He tapped the control screen. “We should have you home in fewer than two minutes.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sir, I’m OK walking.” But just like that, Willa felt the drone lifting off.

“Nonsense. We don’t need you getting hit on the head by a defective drone.” He gave a tepid chuckle. “Think of the liability.”

Willa smiled weakly. Liability? The court system had long ago been largely dismantled, now used only to settle financial disputes among corporations and wealthy individuals. Regular people didn’t meet the net worth threshold to utilize the system. His choice of words was perplexing. Maybe he was just using outdated vernacular as a matter of habit. Perhaps he was so out of touch that he didn’t even consider how ridiculous the reference had been. He stared blithely out the window and Willa decided that must be it.

“Well,” she said, “thank you for the ride.” She stepped to the opposite side of the passenger compartment and took a seat. Relief was immediate. She’d always stored anxiety in her feet.