"Before you say it, I know I shouldn't have just done that," I said, keeping my head down. I was questioning whether it was worth it, but I knew deep down that there would be very few opportunities to do that. When I looked up, Evan shook his head.

"You're just human," he sighed, his eyes drifting out the windows to the courtyard garden. It mirrored exactly as it had been on March 3rd, just as perfect, just as pristine and just as beautiful. As we moved down another hallway, he continued, "I couldn't blame you. I'd take a million therapy appointments if it meant getting to hug my girl,"

Evan stopped outside of a room with a glass door, a girl with a messy blonde ponytail was typing away, cross-legged on a chair. There were papers piled around her, a few boxes and wrappers on the floor. It already looked quite messy, although the day was early. Perhaps it had been another days mess as well.

She was alone in the room, a few files surrounding her, and a large computer in front of her. Gently, Evan knocked on the door. The girl jumped from her seat, and when she turned around and saw us, she ran over, stumbling on her untied shoes, but didn't entirely fall over.

She unlocked the door, and immediately I was once more hit with the stench of strong coffee. To my surprise, she threw her arms around Evan, although she was relatively smaller than him. She looked to me as if she wanted to hug me too, but restrained herself.

Her ponytail was already coming undone, strands falling across her face. Her eyes were a dark green, and freckles dotted her face. The smell of coffee was even stronger. She was full of more energy than I had anticipated, and giving I was still recovering from my interaction with my Dad, it was a lot to take in.

"Come in! Come in!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her heels as she ushered us forward. Her enthusiasm reminded me of Lillian, especially the way she seemed to have a spring in her step as she walked. Her hair looked dirty, and the further we moved inside, the coffee smell was suffocating.

When we were inside, she closed the door, wheeling over two seats. There were papers scattered across the seats, which she carelessly added to the top of an already looming pile on her desk. She grabbed a small container of oat cookies from her disk, offering them out to me.

"Did ya want some? Homemade of course! Take as many as you want!" she said, shaking the container slightly in front of me. My stomach lurched, desperately craving food I hadn't eaten. It was reaching 10 am, and I didn't know how I would manage to make it through the day without something. The smell was unfamiliar but mouthwatering.

"Yes please," I said, more than thankful to get some sort of food into my system. I took three larger ones, feeling slightly guilty, but glad to eat. As I took small bites, I was immediately overwhelmed by the flavor, a mixture between sweet and savory. The cookie was slightly chewy.

"They're ANZAC biscuits, well they're actually cookies. They used to send them over to soldiers from South New Europe," she said, taking a few of her own, "Just rolled oats, flour, sugar, butter, syrup and baking soda. Because they're so easy, they would send them to soldiers all the way back in World War 1,"

I didn't recognize the term she used, but I did remember learning about World War 1 in school. I hadn't actually heard about South New Europe in a while, not since the war scare between New Europe and the United Nations of America a few years ago.

It had been all over the news channels at the time. New Europe had taken over Europe a few months ago. Two Europe's never made sense to me, nor why they wouldn't just get along. But, that was the way war worked. At least that's how Mom had explained it.

"New Europe used to be a part of Europe," she had explained when I had asked her about it. She'd sat me down on the table. She brought out a large map that she used for her work, with all of the old country names written on it. Mom had circled New Europe, "It happened in the 21st Century, actually, so I know a great deal about it. Brexit, they called it. The United Kingdom wanted to be a part of its own country, to split off from the European Union,"

Dad had been watching the TV intently in the other room, a news anchor showing pictures of soldiers holding guns. Dad had been stressed in those following weeks, getting calls in the middle of the night to go to work. Everyone thought that New Europe was going to declare war. We all thought it was going to be world war four.

I'd remember learning about the United Kingdom in school, how they had a habit of taking over other countries owned by natives, and calling it their own. All countries had done that though. It was barbaric, and I could never imagine doing something like that now. Mom had drawn a line between the United Kingdom and the rest of Europe.

"They renamed themselves New Europe not too long after," she had explained, and from where I was sitting, I could see a glimpse of our President on the TV, addressing the country as if we were all in the same room as him. My Mom had continued, "Do you remember learning about Australia? That was owned by the British Empire. They renamed it South New Europe. New Zealand fell under that umbrella, but often is still referred to as that. But nobody calls it Australia anymore,"

The television had gone about how New Europe had accused the United Nations of America of starting the fires in South New Europe again. Claiming arson for the loss of so many lives to the flames. But it hadn't made sense. Dad had been swearing then, and Mom had sent me to bed early the next night.

I remember the next day at school, Marie had been furious, ranting on and on about it for the next week. It was all I would hear about, and with Dad rushing off to work to a point where it would be days until I'd see him, it truly felt like the end of the world.

"It's their own fault!" she had exclaimed, "South New Europe has had worse fires every year. Half of their animals have gone extinct. Our country isn't starting fires! I'm telling you, it's nature, it's fighting back..."

I had been confused on how she thought nature was fighting back, or whether nature actually understood the politics of the world. Did she see nature as a person? Did nature understand the complex relations between New Europe and UNA?

But it didn't matter, because she'd already moved onto her next tirade on how New Europe was already stealing our countries resources. That UNA was superior to all other countries. That in other countries, they didn't even have Lower's, that people would just die.

Then, weeks later, she had backtracked, returning to her hatred of our country and our rules. It was difficult to keep up with how quickly she changed her opinions. But whatever it was, she wanted as many people to listen to her as possible.

"Sorry, totally forgot to introduce myself!" the woman said, interrupting my thoughts. She wiped her hand on her jacket before extending it to me, "My name's Jordan. But you can call me Jordy,"

"My name's Rebecca," I said, shaking her hand. Her grip was firm, and I was already extremely thankful for the cookie. Jordan grinned, crossing her legs on her chair again as she took her hand back. She turned to Evan, grinning.

"How's the boys Ev?" she asked, taking another cookie from her box. It was already half empty, and even though I wanted more, I had to stop myself from asking for another. Jordan continued, "Noah and Marlin keeping up alright?"

Marlin. I felt my whole heart sink at the thought that she didn't know. That someone hadn't explained to her that Marlin was dead. Noah was hardly holding up from it, he'd become a shell of a man. But as I looked to Evan, he didn't seem to react with any sort of concern.

"They're both doing great," Evan said, not giving off any chance that something had been off. To him, this seemed to be a standard question to a point where he didn't even flinch at the name, "Keeping out of trouble. Marlin recently found out that Nina had a kid! He's a grandpa, proud of it too. Kid's name is Bailey, of course I said he shoulda been called Parsley. Noah's still pretty bummed he wasn't named after him, even though Nina never actually met him,"

It was a lot to process. Evan didn't tell Jordan that Marlin was dead. But when he talked about Marlin, there was a pain behind his eye, as if he was desperately trying to hold back tears. Jordan didn't seem to notice. I felt slightly saddened at the realization that Evan had likely been recalling a story, but not a new one.

Marlin had been a grandfather, a father. He'd had a partner, a child, a whole life. And just like that, he had disappeared. And now Evan, instead of telling her the truth, told her a story that was from before I had started working.

I wonder how old this story was?

Jordan didn't seem to notice the lingering sorrow behind Evan's eyes. She was nodding along to the story. And I realized Evan wasn't doing this out of malicious intent, he wasn't doing this hurt her. He was doing it to protect her. Because sometimes, it's easier to pretend than accept that someone is truly gone.

Sometimes I pretend that one day I'll just see Marie in the crowd, and nothing would have changed. Because that's easier than coming to the realistic conclusion that she wasn't coming back.

"You tell those boys I said hi," she said, before looking to me, "I was the only girl there once too. It's not all that bad, you get used to it. Then of course I got a big upgrade! Big boy building now! Pretty sweet. Just hang in there Becca, it'll all work out,"

"I get to be a mentor!" Evan beamed, throwing an arm around me, "Get my own apprentice! How lucky am I? Get a little Evan!"

"I think one Evan is enough," Jordan laughed, taking another cookie. Evan let me go as Jordan continued, "So are you just here to boast, or actually have something important to say for once?"

"We need the next batch of code," Evan explained, "For the overwriting of the old code. One of the newbies has just about finished all of those files you gave. He's a real fast one, it's Jack's kid,"

Had Scott already finished all of the files? I was not surprised, of course, but I had only managed to get one done. It was impressive that he managed to get what appeared to be 10 others done from the previous workday. He certainly did work quickly. I felt my heart jump at the mention of him.

"One of your newbies?" Jordan furrowed her brow, reaching to take another cookie from the box. However, her hand emerged empty, all that was left was crumbs. She moved forward in her seat, "Wasn't that assignment meant for Marlin?"

There was a snag in Evan's story.