Chapter 15
The new system went live the next afternoon.
Dave from IT came with a little black box to replace the silver terminal. He set it on the glossy black marble table where the old one had been and tapped his badge against it. It beeped, green for a second, then gray.
"This is TERM-03," he said to Carla and me. "Olivia's old code 4472 is dead. She'll make a new one when she's back from New York. For now every approval needs two taps — employee plus manager — and the camera above catches the hands."
He pointed up. I hadn't noticed the small dome camera in the trim before. It blinked red.
"Try it," he told me.
I stepped up in my uniform, my cloth folded neatly beside me, not under my arm. I tapped the spare badge they'd given me that morning. It had my name on it: MAYA COLLINS. My own code was 8819, temporary until Olivia trained me.
"Now press green," Dave said.
I pressed it. The display flashed APPROVED: MAYA COLLINS 09:00-17:00. No yellow, no extra hours, no other name.
"That's real," Carla said. "That's your day today. Eight hours. You came in at nine, you leave at four. Payroll sees it live. No paper needed."
Marcus stood by the dark paneled wall, arms crossed, watching. The two suits from the first day were gone, reassigned. The table reflected all of us, clear and still.
At two o'clock we did a real check-in. Carla called me over, not the supervisor, and we reviewed the sheet together on a tablet. She showed me the rows, the times, the approval stamps. I checked each one.
"Anything added?" she asked.
"No," I said. "Just today."
"Sign here," she said.
I signed with my small tight letters. She countersigned. Two taps. Done.
The afternoon passed normally, which felt strange after a week of not-normal. I wiped the marble, refilled the water glasses for a meeting, folded linens in the back. No one handed me a yellow sheet at the elevator. No one whispered we need you till close.
At three fifty-five Carla found me by the table. "Five minutes," she said.
I wiped my hands on my cloth and folded it — in half, then half again — and set it on the edge where it belonged. I untied my apron, slipped off my badge, and set it down.
Marcus walked over. "How does it feel to be awake at the table?" he asked quietly, not stern now.
I smiled for the first time that week without forcing it. "Better than being asleep on it."
He checked his watch. "Fifteen-oh-seven," he said, then corrected himself. "Four oh seven. You know what I mean."
May you like
"I do," I said. "I'm leaving on time."
I picked up my bag, pushed through the back entrance into the parking lot where the late sun hit the asphalt, and didn't look back at the marble. The doors closed behind me with a soft click. My phone buzzed — direct deposit alert — nine hundred forty dollars, correction posted — and I stood on the sidewalk and let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd held for three nights. I was tired, but awake. And I walked to the bus stop on my own clock.
