I know I shouldn’t, but I read it.

Andra,

You will ensure she acclimates.Compliance is essential.Monitor her closely.

Make sure she understands the stakes.

- E.H.

Again, the phrasing.The precision.

Notmake sure she understands the job.Notmake sure she has the resources she needs.

Make sure she understands the stakes.

I glance up, and Andra is standing in my door again.She could’ve emailed me.Instead, she’s here in the flesh.Again.Her expression is unreadable.

“Mr.Harrison expects efficiency,” she says.

I nod, though I have no idea why she’s telling me this.

She sets a thick binder on my desk.Shergar Policies & Procedures, 2025 Edition.I have a feeling it won’t provide the answers I actually need.

She taps a section marked “EXPECTATIONS.”A list of phrases that feel hollow.

Maintain adaptability.Exercise discretion.Align with company objectives.

“I assume this won’t be an issue?”she asks.

I should ask what any of this even means, but I get the sense that’s not the point.

“No issue at all,” I say.

She nods once.“Good.”

And then she leaves.

I stare at the binder.

I open it.The first page is just a single sentence, centered in the middle of an otherwise blank sheet.

We are all part of something greater.

What the fuck does that mean?

Before I can decide whether I should be concerned, my stomach growls loud enough to startle me.Right.Breakfast.I never got around to that.

I push away from my desk and head for the break room, trying to remember where I saw it yesterday.Shergar is immaculately designed—so sleek and uniform that every hallway looks the same, which I assume is intentional.

I pass glass-walled conference rooms where no one is talking.They’reworking, in unison, a quiet symphony of polished efficiency.

This place is too quiet.

Like a library.

Or a church.

Or a hospital, right before they tell you bad news.