The lobby was brightly lit, organized in a way that would let whole crowds file in and out, or even stand comfortably around for a media or news event. The front desk was organized appropriately for that same purpose, set up like an island in the middle of open space, the ring of desk serving to fortify against and divert the ebb and flow of any crowd. Employees were dressed in uniforms that, like the very design of the B-TV building, would have looked fantastic in the right moment in time. As it was, the cheaper suits with vests beneath looked like the kinds of uniforms a movie theater employee would wear, with a jacket added.

Those were the employees that mobilized to approach us, to manage us. We’d called just before we arrived, and they were ready.

Three people for the five of us, but the security team at the other end of the room moved as we did.

My costume was clean, face made up in a way I normally wouldn’t bother with if I was going out in costume, my hair dressed up, with no braid, only the loosely spiraling tumble of hair over my shoulders, my hood pulled down over my forehead, the spikes of the hood’s ornamentation at my brow, working with the metal band that we’d worked into the white trim to keep the hood in position.

Lookout was in silver and dark gray, with an illuminated green at spots all around her costume, including the lenses of her mask. An eye icon was displayed in white against the dark green plate of the circular projector, which was worn on her chest. The eye shifted between three different configurations of lines and circles, an endless shuffling. Another plate was at her shoulder, smaller than the other, with wires running along her suit to it—power. That would be the projector that let us have Swansong with us.

She had her eyehook, but it was in a discreet mode. No gun, no weapon, toolbelt reduced down to the essentials. While she walked toward the front of the group, the encasement around one of the buns of her hair opened up. The bun, a mechanical pupil surrounded by a green iris, started staring at me. She turned her head, glancing at me out of the corner of one eye, and I saw the slight skip in her step, alongside a small smile.

That would be the connection pad from Rain’s tech, repurposed so that she apparently now had an extra eyeball extending from the back of her head.

Two.

Televisions along the corridor were showing the ending of the show that preceded our segment. This would be the one where a mix of adults and younger people went over the news of the day. The dynamic was that the adults tried to do it seriously, while the kids teased, joked, interfered and played pranks.