“Sorry for the trouble,” her dad said to the bearded man.

“No trouble. Strong feelings are very understandable, given what’s on the line. I’ll leave you with your daughter. I owe someone a phone call.”

“Actually, I came looking for you. I didn’t see her slip upstairs. They want you downstairs.”

“Why?”

“To keep order, they want a couple of people to speak, share thoughts. Names the community respects. You were at the top of the list.”

“Ah. I suppose I should organize those thoughts of mine. My colleague can wait for his call.”

“Do you know where you stand?” her dad asked.

“I have to admit, I was on the fence,” John said. “I was.”

Was. Past tense.

The man put a heavy hand on Presley’s shoulder as he departed.

“Your boss’s boss?”

“John Druck. He runs my company, he headed the unions, negotiated for the construction groups with the mayor, and was briefly a candidate for mayor. He might wear overalls and a jacket with oil stains on it, but he’s respected.”

“Oh,” she said.

She got her stuff sorted, and she let her father lead her back downstairs, helping her navigate the crowd of way too many people in way too small a space, gathered to listen.

She found her spot, and settled in between her mom and the photo she’d stuck to the dress. Mr. Druck wasn’t speaking yet, but she didn’t hate the woman minister who was talking about the decisions being made.

It would be a long night. Sleepless. That was much as she’d expected, but in a very different way.

⊙

The people who hadn’t fallen asleep stood at the windows. They watched.

The red was fading, growing lighter. It was hard to tell with the way the sky was changing colors, but it was overcast… she could look at the snow and see the pinkness of the light shining on it diminishing.

She held her father’s hand, firm. She wasn’t the only person who was holding someone’s hand. Everyone watched, tense, as danger faded.

“We’re getting word,” someone said. One of Eric’s colleagues that had come in with him. The voice was too loud, considering that maybe one in five people in the room were still sleeping. Others were at other windows, or were up at the roof. “The Queen Titan crumbled. Two others followed shortly after.”

“What does that mean?” John Druck asked, and he was considerate with his volume.

“It means she decided on her path,” Eric said. “She wanted the cycle to continue… and rather than fight us, us, every step of the way, the easiest way to do that is to let us carry on.”

“It’s over?”

“It should be. We should wake up our capes.”

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