Ridge had hardly slept. He did not even get a shut-eye.

   After the exciting dive from the moon and the unexciting ride back to his room, Ridge safekept Roderick's costume inside the storage box hidden in his trashy, cashew-filled couch, where he also stuffed in Professor Yulek's ball clicker. He remembered how he had manipulated his professor into letting him inspect the ball clicker—he'd intended to lift fingerprints if they were crucial for the exit to Nevah. Now that he didn't need them, he sat in his brainstorming corner and thought.

   He thought about what he could do with the ball clicker. It was Professor Yulek's Aptem, a symbol of his position as a current Physics professor. It would raise suspicion if Ridge didn't return it after claiming he'd "fixed" it. But returning it to Yulek? How would that benefit him? Ridge decided it would be best to return it without a direct confrontation with his former professor. This time, he would do it without manipulation for personal gain. Technically.

   Yulek would have figured Ridge out by now, so Ridge stayed in the shadows as he walked to the Academy in the Secondary Coverts to return the ball clicker to the sleeping professor. When he arrived at the teal aquarium of a classroom, he fumbled with his Riskometer and dropped it on the floor. Making a mental note to find a better way to carry it, Ridge picked it up and tiptoed toward the literal sleeping man. Professor Yulek was hunched over his desk as usual, his pince-nez perched on the end of his nose. His keen eye was stuck on the grains of sand falling slowly in the hourglass—except it wasn't really watching it. Liquid dribbled from his mouth like a river. Very much like that river in Nevah. There was no sound of snoring, even though Yulek's body should've been vibrating with it. The only sounds were the ticking of the cuckoo clock above the dead professor and the quiet swish of the dayglass—a clever little modification Ridge had made to the hourglass.

   Ridge could have left the ball clicker on the table and reported the dead body to have it buried in the Graveyard in the Primary Coverts, but as he stepped toward the door, he froze. Hypothesis shapes, as if summoned by his thoughts, materialized before his eyes. They tugged at his senses, telling him to get rid of Yulek's body. Ridge had a hypothesis: once the governors discovered the true cause of Yulek's death, they would investigate who tampered with the hourglass. They would track down the time gaps in Yulek's timed soda intake, and soon enough, they would detain Ridge, just like they had with Ab and Und. Or they would drag him down the same hapless path they'd taken with Yulek.

   The rules of Haven loomed over him. The laws were plastered on blimps and giant billboards for all to see, claiming to protect the citizens, but Ridge had never subscribed to that belief. Those rules were too orthodox, too constricting. He couldn't stand how the citizens of Haven followed them blindly, their heads raised high in reverence to the safety they supposedly provided. Ridge couldn't help but feel a bitter jealousy toward the Nevanese—those who lived without such stringent rules hovering over their heads. They were free to do as they pleased. He longed for that freedom, for subversion against the suffocating order of Haven.

   Confident in his decision, Ridge turned back to Yulek's desk, Riskometer in hand. He pulled  some cashew crumbs from his pocket and placed them into Yulek's open mouth. Using the Riskometer, Ridge vacuumed up Yulek's body, leaving no trace behind. As the task was completed, a sense of relief washed over him. He turned to leave, but the shapes tugged at him again. This time, the hypothesis was clear: take Yulek's Aptem. Without it, rumors would spread that Yulek wasn't dead—he had simply vanished, taking his Aptem with him. The rumors would spread like wildfire, and the governors would focus all their attention on that mystery, rather than on Ridge and his risk-taking adventures. It would divert the suspicion away from him.

   Perhaps the governors would even consider Yulek's disappearance an act of embezzlement. They'd think the professor had gone rogue, especially since the hourglass was mysteriously filled with extra sand. It wouldn't matter who did it or why; all that mattered was that Yulek was abruptly cut short of his timed sedation and had disappeared with his ball clicker.

   Following the shape's urging, Ridge backtracked to grab the ball clicker and left the classroom, pride swelling in his chest. As he made his way back to his room, he looked down at the Riskometer. It was peaceful now, but his palm throbbed with the pain of carrying it too long. He had been gripping it like an extra joint. He needed to come up with a better way to carry it. Gloves were too cliché, and he certainly wasn't about to spend money on the government-mandated round bags for Sensing Snowglobes. That was precisely why he kept inventing his own machines and mechanisms. Even if his dream of becoming an "Innovative Havenian Hero" had been shattered.

   Ridge spent the morning brainstorming alternatives for carrying the Riskometer. His face was creased with thought and exhaustion. He was used to being sleep-deprived, but this was different. He rubbed the wrinkles from his forehead when a sudden idea struck him. He removed the steel balls from the ball clicker and carefully tried to fit the Riskometer inside. To his satisfaction, it fit perfectly. Ridge grinned as he retrieved the chip from his moth-eaten cabinet and plugged it into the ball clicker's stand. At last, he had a new, secure way to carry the Riskometer.

   With the Riskometer now attached to the ball clicker and safely sitting on his nightstand, Ridge finally flopped onto his bed, his muscles aching for rest. But before he could fall into a deep sleep, Mavis's voice crackled through his transmission screen.

   "Heyi, Ridge! It's twelve o'clock on Sunday, you know what that means. Ready for the Workers' Guide Guild or not?"

   Sundays, the day before the First Monday Slint (the day that marked the beginning of all new workers' shifts after the Sensing Snowglobe Decree), saw all new and probationary workers gathering in the Park of the Primaries Wing. Ridge was sitting on a rock-hard bench, surrounded by Mavis and Polo. They were busy chatting, while Ridge flicked cashews into his mouth absent-mindedly. Polo had set up a sign that read, "Ask us three any questions, and we'll help (P.S: And by any questions, we mean relevant ones)". The rest of the group huddled in smaller circles, discussing their future work assignments, or passing scrolls to each other. Unlike the others, who wore standard brown coats with flannel trousers or plaid skirts and ties, each worker dressed in clothing specific to their future job.

   The Primaries Wing covered most of the southern portion of Haven. It was an ironic place—on the east side of the Primary Coverts, where the "arts and culture" were emphasized: entertainment, technology, museums. The Primary Coverts, however, were home to the graveyards and memorials. It was something that perplexed most of Haven's inhabitants, but Ridge, Mavis, and Polo weren't like most people.

   Back at the Academy, Ridge had been forced to meet Polo through his childhood friend, Mavis. She'd introduced them to form a study trio, choosing Ridge for his brilliance and Polo for his creativity. Ridge had never really wanted friends, especially not two people who were so different from him. Mavis was driven by an ambition to become a cartographer, while Polo, with his offbeat charm, offered a fun distraction. Despite his reluctance, Ridge had eventually agreed to their partnership, and Mavis had succeeded—graduating at seventeen with multiple awards in cartography. Ridge had graduated at the average age of 21, but he'd always been a bit of an outsider.

   Sitting there now, Ridge's face was blank, though his mind was anything but. His eyes, still trained on his fingers, were wide, and a faint, robotic smile twisted his lips. His hair hung messily around his face. To anyone who didn't know about his secret visit to Nevah—or his recent use of the Riskometer to absorb the bodies of two dead men—his expression would have appeared neutral, perhaps even vacant.

   The memory of his outing to Nevah, however, was still fresh in his mind. The thrill, the rush of adrenaline, was like a whirlpool inside him, replaying over and over. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the sharp sting of the Nevanese air, hear the wind rustling through the red sands, and taste the salt in the air. Every part of him surged with that strange, exhilarating pleasure. The barren land stretching endlessly before him, the distant volcano-shaped mountain, the orange-tinted sky—all of it felt so free.

   And yet, Ridge couldn't help but feel a flicker of guilt. Guilt for breaking the rule, the one that warned all Havenites, Never visit Nevah. And yet, in the back of his mind, he knew there would be no repercussions as long as he kept his Riskometer hidden and his activities stealthy. Ridge's thoughts turned to the copper effigy of Quenten Oppen in the Park. The effigy, with its strange, droopy eyes, always unsettled him. He had chalked it up to an artistic mistake—an accident—but in Haven, mistakes like that were rarely tolerated.

   As Mavis's voice interrupted his reverie once again, Ridge's hand fumbled with the cashew,   missing his mouth. He glanced down at the pocketwatch locked with his promise to never visit Nevah again. He wagged his finger at it. What would the Riskometer have to say about this?

   But the Riskometer couldn't measure that kind of risk. Not when the subversion of Haven's rules was already written into the engravings of his own destiny.

    "Penny for your thoughts, bud?" Polo asked, having just thanked someone for receiving a video game console as a gift before turning to Ridge with a wide grin.

   No answer.

   "Ridge, from Haven to Ridge?"

   Ridge's response was only how his face went back to its usual neutral expression, as if the fuzz of thought had been swept from his mind. He didn't flick any more cashews into his mouth.

   Mavis fumed. She grabbed Ridge's arm and shook it. "Heyi! Whatever you're thinking, it has to be about the Slint."

   "Damned Slint..." Ridge muttered, returning to his slow, methodical cashew eating, his other arm propped on his leg. "It's foolish to push pushovers to work tomorrow. Today too..."

   "Yeah, but there's no better gift than the present." Polo grinned, waving his video game console around like it was a casual prop, not in a bragging way—just in a Polo way.

   Mavis scoffed, her ponytail flicking back as she tightened it. "It's no better time than the present, Polo."

   She turned back to Ridge. "No, seriously, Ridge! Listen! We're talking about the Workers' Guide Guild. It's important."

   Polo mumbled while powering up his console, "Gift, present, time... all the same, man."

   Mavis shot him a look. "Not the time, Polo."

   "Ridge, that's not usual of you," Mavis pressed, now ignoring Polo's mumbling. "You're the quietest guy in the Playing Cards Melee, and you still took home the championship, but now? This? I can't allow it. You've been acting off ever since we came back from Nevah. Plus, I had to hide my precious map to convince the authorities I wasn't guilty of mapping Alula. I had to lie, Ridge. I had to lie just to get out of that hole you dug. And you—"

   Still no response. Ridge popped another cashew into his mouth, eyes distant, staring into nothingness.

   Mavis clenched her fist, gritting her teeth as she shook him harder. "Did you even pay attention to what we were saying?! You're acting like a cashew—"

   Ridge buried his face in his palm, his voice muffled. "Mavis, Mavis, I can't hear—"

    "—eating automaton. And now you're talking? Heyi, Ridge—"

   Ridge pinched the bridge of his nose and chewed deliberately, speaking with a whining undertone, "I can't hear you. I'm eating cashews—"

   Mavis threw her hands up in frustration, "You can't just trivialize the Workers' Guide Guild and prioritize your cashews. We're discussing super important stuff here, Ridge! The policies, the materials—everything that impacts us!"

   "Mavis, for damn's sake..." Ridge interrupted, raising his hand in protest. "Chewing food drowns out any external noises. And I never trivialized anything. I'm just... thinking."

   "Thinking, thinking—" Mavis continued, her voice getting higher with each word. "No! No, I can't put up with your carelessness anymore. The three of us are supposed to be the brightest batteries of the bunch, and a remote control doesn't work without a supply of even one battery."

   "The occlusion effect!" Ridge finally raised his voice, as if something had finally ignited inside him. He sat up straight, his earlier indifference replaced by intensity. He wagged his finger at her. "When I'm eating cashews, I can't hear external noises because I'm distracted by the internal ones. That's the occlusion effect, Mavis. On both accounts now." 

   A girl in a clinical coat and pillbox hat, who had been massaging Polo's shoulders while he played on the console, piped up, chin raised. "Also because chewing puts pressure on the Eustachian tube, which connects the middle ear to the back of the throat."

   Ridge rolled his eyes and mumbled, dry as ever, through the cashew he was holding, "Yes, yes, very sage. Thank you, confusion clearer. Good riddance to confusion."

   Mavis shot the girl a confused look. "And are you a probationer chiropractor or doctor?"

   The girl glanced at Mavis with a slight smirk. "Doctor. An orthopedic, to be specific." She showed her Sensing Snowglobe, which was designed with bones and x-ray images. "Aptem's a cast."

   Haven didn't really need doctors, though, Ridge thought. The only patients were those with minor injuries or a slightly elevated temperature. Haven was indoors, the air was preserved, and harmful viruses and bacteria were kept at bay. Nevah, though... Ridge's mind flicked back to Roderick's state. Ah, never mind that. It's not like they're pushovers and dullards like Havenians.

   Once Mavis had calmed down and tightened her ponytail once more, her expression softened, curiosity replacing irritation. "On both accounts, huh? What about the other account?"

   Ridge sighed and leaned back slightly, tilting his head as if he was just getting to the real point. "Ah, well, the other account of the occlusion effect is that you kept talking over me. I was trying to tell you... there's barely anyone in the guild. Even though it's supposed to be monetary. You two are responsible for helping others with overcoming drudgeries, and I'm in charge of organizing professional support. So far? Only five people have actually come up to us for help. The rest are either fulfilled or lost."

   Inertia was never a problem in Haven. At least, not in the conventional sense. There was never a time when someone was seen as a "diamond in the rough," except in fictional plays. Laziness in Haven was an unspoken threat, just like how the Ruskometer was in Nevah—wait, no. The Riskometer. It was the opposite of a threat. It was a weapon—one that could unify both halves of Thear, if used wisely. Ridge never saw it as a potential threat to Nevah. He just needed to use it carefully until he was done exploring the Outdoors.

   Polo groaned, placing the video game console down and masking his defeat with a crooked grin. He gave the girl massaging his shoulders a thumbs up before leaning forward. "With all due respect, man... but we don't mean anything at the moment. Everyone is seeking guidance from each other. Peer orientations, stuff like that." He made a cuckoo gesture. "Others are going bananas over some missing Sensing Snowglobe. I won't name names, but let's just call them Ash. Ash is flipping the Wings upside down with their friends and siblings. They're even searching for it in the Marginal Coverts. Can you believe that? The Marginal Coverts, Ridge. Where the families and kindergarteners live. Ash is out of their mind."

   Ridge raised an eyebrow. "People can be absentmindedly absentminded, but not that much. Ash, are they one of the graduates of this year?"

   Polo opened a bag of chips and dug into it. "One of us, yeah." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Boon can't generate another Sensing Snowglobe for Ash, though. There's an alarm, sure, but it only triggers when the Sensing Snowglobe is in a risky position—like if it gets stuck somewhere."

   Ridge hummed thoughtfully, then glanced at Polo's video game console. He wagged his finger at it, and Polo, without missing a beat, redirected his attention to the game and began manipulating the buttons and joystick.

   Once Polo was focused, Ridge leaned in a little closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

   "Say," Ridge began, smirking, "Is that Ash Shaima, perchance?"

   Polo froze. His eyes widened as he realized his slip-up. He grimaced and cursed softly under his breath.

   Ridge laughed, loud and genuine. "Way to be absentmindedly absentminded, Polo."

   Polo laughed sheepishly and tapped on his diagonally crossed chest belt, "You would've known either way, dude. It's Shaima we're talking about."

 Mavis perked up all of a sudden as she was slumped back on the bench. She grinned as she leaned forward while looking at the two, "Heyi, I've an idea! I can help Shaima with the search in no time using the mini blimp drone Ridge gave me."

   Ridge sneered and crumpled the now empty package of cashews. He said disgruntedly, "I only gave it to you to help you with mapping, not look for a moron's Sensing Snowglobe. Leave it be. It's not like I will give you more batteries after you used up all of the energy in the span of a week!"

   Polo raised his hands and shook them in front of Ridge as if to tame him. "Woah, woah, dude. Buck up. She just suggested an innocent idea. What part of it is triggering you? Can't be the batteries."

   Ridge exhaled through his nose as his shoulders sagged. His patience was wearing thin. He spoke with an undercurrent of irritation, "You won't get it. She's forfeiting the purpose of the drone I gave her when she wanted to create her very own original map of the Secondaires where all the facilities are." Ridge made a cutting throat gesture with his wagging finger, "People will think I'm reinventing the wheel. There's already blimps for surveillance and search parties." "People can be annoying, even someone like Polo Swarovski! At least those two sniffing bulldogs of his friends aren't here."

   Polo let out a belly laugh and resumed the video game. "Come on, dude. Since when did you care about your reputation?" Polo huffed and his head inclined. Keeping his eyes on the video game console, he said, "Tell me something. How was your trip to-"

   When Polo was cut off by his red nosed and the other shrew eyed friend calling his name, Ridge winced when hearing that. He discreetly stared off the distance in horror as he thought, "Why, of course Polo would know! He's the one responsible for the entertainment after all. He probably used his position to escape curfew and saw me gliding to the moon and exit like a criminal. Polo, you crafty man. Masking your craftiness with charisma, huh? Well, good riddance to you! I might as well dispose of you, and if there are any other eyewitnesses or people with inside knowledge, I'll gladly hit them with Riskomifiers and suck them into my Riskometer. Yes, yes, that's what'll happen."

   In the spur of the moment, Ridge stuffed his hand in his pocket where the cashew crumbs as Riskomifiers were. He took them out, and just as Mavis was about to nose in once more, Polo held up a hand in the direction of the two frantic men and turned to Ridge, "Like I was saying. How was your trip to Alula?"

   A sense of understanding washed over Ridge. Polo was referring to Alula. He felt more at ease and his eyes softened, his scowl still left behind. He thought, "It happened so suddenly I wanted to get rid of Polo here and now. Anyway, I'd have to kill him before using the Riskometer on him. The Riskometer's weakness, aside from the action-reaction effect being avoided by the shoulder plates that act as the unbalanced force, is that it cannot suck in living humans. Living animals, yes, but living humans are more complicated and are, in quantum physics, impossible to trap in a tool that uses the funnel effect. But what's there to cry about? It's fine if I can't do that. I don't intend on spilling any blood. Just find spilled blood and get rid of it. Either to protect me or protect others. Not unify both the Indoors and Outdoors, good riddance to that motive."

   Just as Mavis was reaching out her fingers to touch the cashew crumbs, Ridge shot her a glare while putting them back in the pocket. He shrugged as he looked at the smiling Polo, "Pfft, 't was alright. Their gadgets were decent at best. Couldn't measure up to mine. You walk into the storage room, and lo and behold, they have gadgets only the governors use made by special inventors."

   "Like that dude?" Polo pointed at the effigy of Quentenn Oppen. Ridge nodded and crossed his arms, saying in a calm echoing fashion, "Like that dude."

   The shrewd eyed man, who looked like he would explode, gasped, "Mister minister Swarovski! One of the automatons came in the Recreation room and announced your previous Physics professor's death! The hearse already made it to the Primary Coverts. You can go see the burial and grieve your briefings if you want."

   The girl massaging Polo peeled her hands off his shoulders and looked down mournfully. Mournful silence was sound as Polo's grin faltered and Mavis wore a crestfallen expression while sitting on the edge of the bench. Ridge was thrown off balance, but tried not to show it by closing his eyes and putting his fingers to his lips.

   "They just dress his disappearance up by faking his death? How secretly corrupt, governors. Very corrupt. No good riddance to coming out clean, no? No, that's what I thought."

   Polo closed the video game console and broke the silence without gently like tiptoeing in a library, "Alright. We'll be there shortly. The two of you," he pointed at the sign on his pool stick beside him, "take our roles while we're away."

   The red nosed man sniffled and nodded, nudging the other man as his shrewd eyes were glazed over. He flinched, nodded, and switched seats with Polo. The other switched seats with Mavis, who stood up begrudgingly while looking down at her coat and fumbling with the pearls.

   They all stared at Ridge with hollow faces. Including the girl in the clinical coat who was massaging her wrists.

   "Ridge, from Haven to Ridge?" Polo's voice barely came out above a whisper, not smiling as usual as he plugged the video game console into his chest belt. He even left the chips bag behind for the red nosed man who was eating the chips slowly.

   Ridge opened his eyes and rubbed his knees. He tucked his hands in his pockets and stood up, keeping his eyes darting around them. The finger on his lips moved to the corner and stretched it down so it appeared he was frowning. He dipped his head and held his jacket with the other hand, still concealing both pocketwatches. After the obituary, his patience was wearing more thin; he had to go to his second outing.