* * *

“I will not.”

Cora released an exasperated sigh. As time went by, he’d only gotten more obstinate about face-to-face meetings, even though she’d made the trek to the other side of the complex to ask him in person. When she (or anyone) entered his lair, it involved a labyrinthine level of bureaucracy, several key cards and a fingerprint scanner, and even some amount of paperwork. It was even worse when Ampersand went in and out. Perhaps that was why he was being so difficult; the simple act of existing was, for him, a huge pain in the ass.

“No one here wants you to work with the military,” she said. “But it’s possible the military might take the whole thing over, and they might try to . . . push you to do some of their dirty work for them.”

“I would not.” He wasn’t really looking at her, parked on the floor as he usually was, loafing like a cat and focusing on nothing in particular. He wasn’t doing nothing; whenever he had that distant, unfocused look it meant he was focusing on something within his internal systems, his own projects, a domain that no human may enter.

“I know that. But you need to meet with this general, come physically tell him why you won’t do it.”

“You are perfectly capable of relaying my message in my absence.”

“That only works up to a point; as far as they’re concerned, I could be making it all up. They need you to be there some of the time to make sure that I am truthfully relaying what you’re saying.”

“I have no interest in direct engagement with militarists.”

“I know that, but I need you to physically get in front of them and tell them.”

The light of his eyes coagulated, pooling like droplets of glowing orange oil in black water until they combined into luminous focus.

She crouched down to his eye level. “Look, to be honest, I’m not really worried about their bureaucratic bullshit, but I am worried they might decide I’m not necessary. If you won’t talk to them whether I’m here or not, then I’m extraneous. I know I don’t technically need to work here in order to interact with you, but . . . the economy’s in free fall, we’re heading into a depression, I need this job. And at least as long as I’m here, that gives both of us more bargaining power. I’d rather be here if you need me.”

Ampersand seemed to consider this, the focus in his eyes pulsing ever so slightly. Then, he rose to his feet. “What will assuage them?”

“Aside from having this conversation in person where you tell them in no uncertain terms that there is absolutely no way you will work with the military, they have a list of things they say they need to run by you before they can do an official information release. In person. As a show of good faith.”