Afternoon August 15th, Seattle

Laura opened the glass door of her office in Seattle's Pioneer Square. She looked at her watch, and saw it was just after 6 o'clock. She stepped into the open work space and leaned her shoulder against her office door frame. Next to her, a small gold placard read:

Laura Constantine

Founder and CEO, Solidus Security

The office was a buzz of activity despite the late Friday hour. Three of her employees were huddled in the corner of their work stations, deep in conversation. A handsome receptionist sat behind a wide desk by the entryway, dressed in a crisp white shirt and tie. The phone trilled. He cleared his throat softly, smoothed his tie, and answered. "Solidus Security, how can I help you?"

Laura smiled. Glad I hired him, she thought. Behind him on the wall stood a round gold logo with a profile of the Roman Emperor Constantine wearing a laurel with the engraving 'SOLIDVS / SECVRITY.'

One of her employees broke their talking huddle. The others looked as he smoothed the front of his boxy, detective-cut suit jacket and walked over. "Laura! Why are you still here? Aren't you getting ready for your vacation?"

"Okay, a lot to unpack there Ryan." She put up her pointer finger. "First, you can't just ask your boss why they're still here." She held up her index finger. "Second, it's not a vacation. It's a security assessment, same as the rest."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "I know. I'm just busting your balls, boss. We worked together in the FBI, what?"

"Two years." Laura finished his sentence.

"Right. Did you take a vacation once?"

"No."

"Exactly." He smiled. "I'm glad you're getting out, even if it's still work."

Her face softened. "Thanks, Ryan. It is still work."

"But on a luxury booze cruise, sippin' Malbec or whatever on a balcony in your bathrobe in front of some glaciers? I'll take it."

His coworker swatted his shoulder. "You have too much imagination. Why are you talking about her in her bathrobe?"

The third coworker scoffed and folded her arms. "He's hot for teacher."

Laura held her hand out and nodded. "Okay, okay. Too far, Aditi. We don't have HR yet, but I'll send you there anyway."

The other two laughed easily. Late afternoon light filtered in through their second story windows. The walk-up space in their old brick building only fit about ten people. Twelve if they crammed in. Behind Laura, the glass-walled conference room sat empty. The rest of the bullpen had gone home.

Laura cleared her throat. "Hey, speaking of sending you somewhere, Aditi. Did you get that contract signed with Voyagia?"

She leaned against the office partition. "Sure did. We're on for 'white hat' testing their network, starting next week."

"Great. Hopefully we can get in there and poke a few holes."

"Laura, give me some credit. Do you expect anything less of a seasoned cybersecurity agent? We'll hit them with some social engineering, some DDOS, some SQL injection, the works. I can buy some fun tricks from the Eastern Bloc with bitcoin." Aditi paused and smirked. "Want to know something fun, though?"

Laura inclined her head. "Oh no. What?"

"I already started. The IT director offered to get us some coffee from their kitchen. I put a keylogger on his computer while he was down the hall. He left it unlocked in front of us."

Laura's eyes widened. "Please tell me the contract was signed before you did that."

"Ink still drying. They'll be swiss cheese."

"Good lord."

"Yeah. The lord won't help them. They're in it now." She straightened herself and swept her hair behind her ear. "But hey, I'm glad you're getting out, too. I'm proud of you for building this place and being an agent-made-good, but everyone needs a change of scenery sometimes."

"Thanks, A. It's a strange feeling. I basically live here. I've thought about putting a cot under my desk."

Ryan cleared his throat and shook his head. "You should go pack, then. Seriously, get out of here."

"Fine. Have a great weekend, guys." She gave the group a mock salute. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Laura grabbed her bag and made her way out of the office, nodding at the receptionist. She made her way to the stairwell and then down to the ramshackle monthly parking lot across the street. She unlocked her old, faded gold Corolla and climbed inside. Moments later, she was creeping North on I-5, low evening sun spilling over traffic. She reached over to her phone, clipped into an air vent above a sun-cracked dashboard, and started Taylor Swift's Folklore. She rested her head on her headrest and settled in.

A long half hour later, Laura pulled into the driveway of her small, post-war house north of Ballard. She let the last thirty seconds of hoax play before shutting her engine down in time. She unlocked the old wooden door, and walked into the quiet living room.

She shrugged out of her blazer and removed her holster, setting her Glock down on the table with a reassuring clunk. The same sidearm she had carried for years in the FBI.

She fished a stoppered bottle of gewürztraminer from her fridge and poured herself a glass. Closing the door, her late mother's picture stared back at her. Thanks for leaving me your post-divorce house, mom, she thought. She leaned against her kitchen counter and tipped her glass. Best gift you ever gave me.

Laura took a slow sip of the cold, acidic, fruity wine. Next to her mother's smiling picture, her packing list hung from a magnet. She willed herself to look at the list again. Office uniform, Seattle uniform, laptop, charger, sunglasses, it started. Near the bottom it read: healthy sense of skepticism.

An hour later, her expensive aluminum suitcase latched closed. Outside her windows, the sun set slowly on her quiet neighborhood street, draping it in reds and golds.

*****

Early morning, August 15th, Seattle

Helen Chen-Morris walked into her kitchen, dressed in her Blue Peter cruise lines captain uniform, her shirt and pants bright white and starched. Her black shoes shone with a mirror polish. Her dark, neat ponytail contrasted against her shoulders covered in gold epaulets.

She pulled her favorite travel mug from the cabinet, battered with age and dishwasher cycles. She filled it with the last of her coffeemaker's carafe, and added half and half from a carton in the fridge. The fridge door shouted back at her, a haphazard assortment of crayon drawings of rainbows and whales splashing in scalloped waves of blue crayon. She checked her watch, 7AM.

Her daughter, Iris, poked at a bowl of half eaten cereal and hummed to herself on a tall stool by the kitchen island. Her husband Alex sat next to her, bleary eyed and in sweatpants. Alex perked up at the sight of Helen. A smile spread across his stubble-covered face, framed by unruly brown hair, dark glasses, and dimples. He cradled a half finished mug of coffee. Alex inclined his head. "You're going to send us pictures if you find any whales, right?"

Iris chimed in. "You said you would! Do you think you'll see Orcas? Maybe humpback whales? Ooh, or maybe both?"

"I promised, remember. I even brought my spotting scope so I can see them better. I figured out how to hold my phone up to it to get pictures."

Iris suppressed a squeal and balled her hands. "I would love pictures, Mom. The Orcas are calving! Did you know that they play together? The babies actually play."

"Definitely. It's a promise. I'll send them to dad, and you can look at them together."

Iris continued, breathless. "Mom. Mom. Did you know that Orcas are actually a dolphin? They are the largest species in the dolphin family. You can tell they're a dolphin because they have a melon."

Helen tried to blink the fog of sleep away. "A... melon?"

Alex chuckled. "We've been talking all about melons. It's a fatty deposit on their foreheads. It makes them dome shaped."

Helen smiled. The corners of her eyes crinkled.

Their daughter Sophia padded into the room, and plunked herself on the couch. In an instant, she was fully horizontal, her face illuminated by the glow of a tablet covered in rubber bumpers.

Helen looked at Alex. "Late night? I saw your big noise canceling headphones on the charger again."

"Yeah." He looked down at his mug and sighed. "My boss keeps forgetting that I'm a full time dad and part time software engineer. He keeps getting that backward." He rubbed his face with his hands. "Especially when they're rushing a big project. I was chasing bugs until my eyes went blurry. Sorry."

She smiled sympathetically. "Don't apologize to me. You're the one who has to chase kids without sleep. You have to set boundaries too, though."

He nodded and closed his eyes. "I know. We've talked about it. I'm trying."

"I know."

There was a brief pause. Alex drummed his fingers against his temple. "Oh! That was the thing. Remember, we have Iris' IEP meeting on Thursday."

Helen sighed. "Right. What time is it again?"

Alex unlocked his phone and swiped to his calendar. "10:00. It's the beginning of the year's meeting. It's super important. We need to make sure she gets an aide with her during math."

Iris brought her tiny fist down on the kitchen island with a crash. "I HATE math!" Helen startled visibly.

Alex nodded. "See? Exactly."

"I know." She caught her breath again. "You know, you're probably one of the only dads running point on one of these, right?"

Alex smiled. "Oh, I know. The autistic stay at home dads with their autistic kids." His voice took a sarcastic edge. "It's a huge club. Probably dozens of us. We should have a meeting."

"You should. Quietest meeting in history." Helen grabbed her purse next to the door. "Okay guys. I'm off to the ship. I love you. I'll FaceTime you every night when you get tucked in. Can you please promise me you will listen to dad?"

"We will. We always do, Mom." Sophia said from the couch, without turning her head. Alex smirked. Helen kissed the kids on the forehead, gave Alex a kiss, and walked out the door.

She looked back at their small, brick house. Its neat and square shape was framed by a brown grass lawn and a small overgrown sidewalk hedge. A disused water play table full of toys sat askew in the mouth of their side yard, and a sprinkler head draped across the fence. She stepped into her car, and made her way to work.