March 15th, 202Y

A loud burst rings out as equipment and mechanics spark out of control. The sound reminds Hailey of fireworks.
She runs over to the malfunctioning Terminal, using her glovèd hands to reach in and realign the wires within, taking a bit of electrical tape to get things back in place, then packing on a slight bit more just for good measure. The sparking halts. All is in order.
Hailey thinks back to five months ago. She thinks about every time she went out. She hadn’t had anything so serious since college, and yet, it similarly ended in disaster.
Am I doomed? Hailey thinks to herself. She tries to dismiss such thoughts, but at lonely times like these, late nights in the laboratory by herself, she can’t help but think about it. She takes a sip from her coffee and slips into indulgence.
The Ides of March make sense for Caesar, as a time of downfall and betrayal. And yet for her Mortisantism, March is a month of mourning—and the Ides reflect on the past and future of such grief.

    She looks at herself in the mirror.

She stares deeper.
She reminisces on all the things she once did. But the time for such things is gone, and now she is here, doing what she needs to do.
She misses Diane.

She waves her hand and dismisses the thought.
She walks over to the Terminal and types in a few phrases, ensuring that everything is running smoothly.


It
feels
She reminisces further. She remembers going to the fair.
She remembers meeting Diane and seeing something special in her, something special that Diane saw in her.


so
hard
She looks away.
She could spend all the time reminiscing, but it doesn’t change where she is right now and what she needs to do.
She looks at the Terminal.

But she can’t help but spend a little longer in a dream.
She reminisces on the last day they shared together—with Halloween so close, they were planning a party. Solo, of course.


to
live
She walks over to it and gets herself back to work.
She ensures that all six of the currently constructed Terminals are in ship-shape, no missing bolts or anything.


with
out.


    She looks away from the mirror, and the matryoshka is dispelled.