Chapter Text
The fluorescent lights in the engineering lab hummed their usual monotonous tune, a sound Sandrone had long since learned to tune out along with most of her coworkers' inane chatter. She hunched over her workstation, soldering iron in hand, making minute adjustments to the servo motor assembly that had been giving her grief all morning.
"Hey, Sandrone, you coming to lunch with us?"
She didn't look up. "No."
"Come on, it'll be fun! We're trying that new place down on—"
"I said no." The soldering iron hissed against metal, punctuating her refusal.
A pause. Then retreating footsteps. Good.
Sandrone allowed herself a small sigh of relief once the voices faded down the hallway. It wasn't that she hated her coworkers—well, most of them anyway—but the idea of sitting through an hour of forced small talk and performative interest in their weekend plans made her want to disassemble something. Preferably something with a lot of tiny, fiddly parts that required complete concentration.
She worked in silence for another twenty minutes, movements precise and economical. The servo motor was nearly perfect now, responding to input commands with a smoothness that satisfied something deep in her chest. This was what mattered. Clean code. Proper calibration. Mechanisms that worked exactly as intended, without the messiness of human unpredictability.
"Still here?"
Sandrone's hand jerked, nearly dropping the soldering iron. She spun around to find Zandik leaning against the doorframe, that insufferable smirk on his face.
"What do you want?" she snapped.
"Just checking on my favorite colleague." He sauntered into the lab, hands in his pockets. "You know, normal people take lunch breaks. It's this novel concept where you stop working and consume nutrition—"
"I know what lunch is."
"Could've fooled me." He peered over her shoulder at her workstation. "Still fussing with that servo? I finished mine yesterday."
"Yours had a 2.3% variance in response time."
"Within acceptable parameters."
"Barely." Sandrone turned back to her work, hoping he'd take the hint. He didn't.
"You know what your problem is?" Zandik continued, because of course he did. "You're too much of a perfectionist. Sometimes good enough is good enough."
"That's exactly the kind of attitude that leads to catastrophic system failures."
"It's also the kind of attitude that means I get to go home at 5 PM instead of 9 PM." He tapped her desk twice. "Just saying. Anyway, I'm heading out for lunch. Sure you don't want anything?"
"Positive."
"Your loss. Oh, by the way—" He paused at the door. "The department head was asking about your progress on the prototype. Might want to have something to show him by Friday."
Sandrone's shoulders tensed. "I'm aware of the deadline."
"Sure you are." And then, thankfully, he was gone.
She sat there for a moment, staring at the servo motor without really seeing it. The deadline. Right. Because one impossible task wasn't enough, they had to add time pressure to it too. The prototype was ambitious—too ambitious, if anyone had bothered to ask her opinion, which they hadn't—and required integration of at least three separate systems that had never been designed to work together.
But she'd figure it out. She always did.
Sandrone pulled out her phone and set a timer for thirty minutes—enough time to eat the sandwich she'd packed this morning and review her notes on the prototype's control architecture. Not technically a lunch break, but it would have to do.
The cafeteria was mostly empty when she arrived, just a few stragglers finishing up their meals. She found a corner table, as far from other people as possible, and unwrapped her sandwich. Turkey and Swiss, same as always. Consistency was underrated.
She was halfway through reviewing her notes when her phone buzzed.
Lauma: Don't forget - Pulonia's appointment is at 5:30 today
Sandrone nearly dropped her phone. Shit. She had forgotten.
Sandrone: Can you keep her a bit longer? Might be late
Lauma: I close at 6. No exceptions
Lauma: Unless you want Nefer to come pick her up? :)
The emoji felt threatening somehow. Sandrone had met Nefer exactly once, and while the woman had been perfectly polite, there was something about her that made Sandrone feel like she was being evaluated and found wanting. Also, there were rumors that she was some kind of shark lawyer who could tear apart witnesses on the stand with a smile. The idea of being in her debt was... unappealing.
Sandrone: I'll be there by 5:30
Lauma: See you then!
Sandrone shoved the phone back in her pocket and took an aggressive bite of her sandwich. This was fine. She just needed to make sure she left by 5:15 at the latest, which meant she couldn't afford to work late, which meant she needed to make serious progress on the prototype this afternoon, which meant—
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: Hi! This is Jahoda from apartment 7B. Lauma gave me your number - I'm moving in today and the building manager said I could borrow your dolly for some boxes? Sorry for the short notice!
Sandrone stared at the message. Then stared some more.
Who the hell names their kid Jahoda? Also, when had she agreed to lend out her equipment? Also, she had a dolly?
After a moment's consideration, she decided this was Lauma's doing somehow. The woman had an unsettling way of making things happen without actually asking permission first.
Sandrone: Fine. I'll be home around 6. You can get it then
Jahoda: You're a lifesaver!!! Thank you so much!!!
The excessive punctuation made her eye twitch.
The afternoon passed in a blur of technical specifications and increasingly creative profanity. The prototype was fighting her at every turn—the motor assembly refused to integrate properly with the control system, and the sensor calibration was reading phantom inputs that shouldn't exist. By 4:45, Sandrone was ready to throw the entire thing out a window.
Instead, she carefully saved her work, backed it up twice, and shut down her workstation with more force than strictly necessary.
"Leaving early?" Zandik called from across the lab. "It's a miracle!"
"Drop dead."
"Love you too!"
She flipped him off without turning around and headed for the exit.
The pet shop—because calling Lauma's place a "pet shop" was like calling the Mona Lisa "a painting"—was tucked into a narrow storefront between a laundromat and a used bookstore. The window display featured an elaborate terrarium that probably cost more than Sandrone's monthly rent, housing what appeared to be a very judgmental deer.
A small bell chimed as she pushed open the door. The interior was somehow both cluttered and meticulously organized, with tanks and cages and enclosures arranged in a way that suggested a logic Sandrone couldn't quite parse. The air smelled like cedar shavings and something vaguely floral.
"Back here!" Lauma's voice called from somewhere deeper in the shop.
Sandrone navigated past a display of premium cat food and nearly collided with a large birdcage. Inside, a gray parrot fixed her with an unsettlingly intelligent stare.
"Hello." it said.
"...Hi."
"Hello." it repeated, more insistently this time.
"I already said hi."
"Hello."
"This is why I have a cat." Sandrone muttered, and continued toward the back of the shop.
She found Lauma in what appeared to be a grooming area, currently occupied by a very fluffy dog of indeterminate breed and a girl who couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old, watching with rapt attention.
"—and that's why we use the slicker brush first." Lauma was explaining, demonstrating the technique with practiced ease. "See how it gets the tangles out without pulling too hard?"
The girl nodded seriously, like she was absorbing state secrets.
Lauma glanced up and smiled when she saw Sandrone. "Perfect timing. Pulonia's in the back—she's been very good today. Haven't you, sweetie?"
From somewhere behind a stack of supply boxes came an imperious meow that clearly said ‘I'm always good, peasant’.
"She's lying." Sandrone said. "She knocked over my coffee this morning. On purpose."
"I'm sure it was an accident."
"She made eye contact while doing it."
"Cats are complex creatures." Lauma said diplomatically. She turned to the girl. "Aino, can you go get Pulonia's carrier from the supply room? You remember where it is?"
"Yep!" The girl—Aino—hopped down from her stool and scurried off with the confidence of someone who'd been here many times before.
Once she was out of earshot, Lauma's smile turned slightly more knowing. "You're eight minutes late."
"Traffic."
"There's never traffic on this route."
"There was today."
"Mm-hmm." Lauma finished brushing the dog, who seemed to be in a state of blissed-out grooming coma. "I heard you might be getting a new neighbor."
Sandrone's eye twitched. "Did you also hear that someone volunteered my dolly without asking?"
"Jahoda's a sweet kid. A bit rough around the edges, but good-hearted." There was definite fondness in Lauma's voice.
"Sounds like an adult who can't figure out moving logistics."
"She's nineteen and moving out on her own for the first time. We all need help sometimes." Lauma's tone was gentle but pointed, the kind that made Sandrone feel like she was being quietly corrected without anything actually being said.
She hated when Lauma did that.
Aino returned with Pulonia's carrier, cat already inside and looking deeply offended by the indignity of it all. Pulonia was a Russian Blue with the attitude of a duchess in exile—beautiful, elegant, and convinced that everyone around her was incompetent.
"She ate all her food." Aino reported. "And she let me pet her for, like, three whole minutes."
"That's very good," Lauma said warmly. "Pulonia doesn't let just anyone pet her."
Sandrone took the carrier, and Pulonia immediately headbutted the door with an annoyed chirp. "Yeah, yeah, I know. We're going home."
"That'll be thirty for the day care and grooming.” Lauma said.
As Sandrone fumbled with her wallet, she became aware of Aino staring at her with undisguised curiosity.
"What?" she finally asked.
"Are you an engineer?" Aino asked.
"...Yes?"
"Cool." The girl's eyes lit up. "What kind?"
"Mostly robotics and automation systems."
"That's SO cool. I want to build robots when I grow up. Well, I want to build lots of things, but robots especially. Do you work with AI integration? What about machine learning applications? Oh, oh—have you worked on anything with dynamic balancing systems? Because I've been reading about—"
"Aino?" Lauma interrupted gently. "Let Sandrone breathe."
"Sorry!" Aino said, not sounding particularly sorry. "I just think engineering is really neat."
Despite herself, Sandrone felt something in her chest soften slightly. "It is neat."
"Maybe you could tell me about your projects sometime? I mean, if you wanted to. No pressure. But also yes pressure because I really want to know."
"Aino."
"Fine, fine." The girl held up her hands in surrender, but she was grinning.
Sandrone handed over the cash and picked up Pulonia's carrier. The cat had settled into a resigned loaf position, blue-gray fur immaculate from Lauma's grooming. She really was beautiful, Sandrone thought with a pang of something that might have been affection but was probably just pride of ownership.
"Thanks for taking care of her." she said, a bit gruffly.
"Anytime." Lauma's smile was genuine. "Oh, and Sandrone? Try to be patient with Jahoda, okay? I know you don't love unexpected social interaction, but she's had a rough time lately."
"I'm always patient."
"You called the last delivery driver 'incompetent' to his face."
"He was incompetent. He left my packages in front of the wrong apartment."
"You made him cry."
"I didn't make—" Sandrone stopped, reconsidered. "That's not my fault."
Lauma just looked at her.
"Fine." Sandrone sighed. "I'll be... civil."
"That's all I ask."
The drive home was short, just ten minutes through familiar streets as the late afternoon sun painted everything in shades of amber and gold. Pulonia yowled from her carrier every time Sandrone hit a bump, a running commentary of feline displeasure that only intensified as they pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building.
"We're almost there, your majesty." Sandrone muttered, grabbing the carrier and her work bag. "Try not to have a breakdown."
Pulonia responded with a plaintive meow that would have melted a heart less immune to manipulation.
The apartment building was one of those older constructions from the '70s that had somehow avoided both demolition and meaningful renovation—beige brick with narrow hallways and temperamental heating. Sandrone lived on the third floor, apartment 7A, which she'd chosen specifically because it was at the end of the hall, minimizing the number of neighbors she had to interact with.
Or it had been minimizing her neighbors. Apparently, that was about to change.
She was halfway down the hallway when she heard a muffled thud, followed by what sounded like creative profanity, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy sliding down stairs.
Sandrone sighed and kept walking.
"Oh, come ON—" More thuds. "This is— ugh, stupid— why is this so—"
Against her better judgment, Sandrone paused outside apartment 7B. The door was propped open with what looked like a very abused cardboard box, and inside she could hear the sounds of someone engaged in mortal combat with furniture.
"Need help?" She called, immediately regretting it.
The noises stopped. Then a head popped out from the doorway—blonde hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, eyes a bit wild, probably mid-twenties. This had to be Jahoda.
"Oh thank god." the girl said. "Are you— wait, are you Sandrone?"
"Unfortunately."
"You're early! I mean, not that that's bad! Just— I wasn't expecting— and I'm kind of in the middle of—" Jahoda gestured helplessly at the chaos behind her. "My couch is staging a rebellion."
Despite herself, Sandrone peered into the apartment. ‘Staging a rebellion’ was underselling it. The couch in question appeared to be wedged in the doorway at an angle that defied physics, one end jammed against the frame and the other blocking what she assumed was supposed to be the living room.
"How did you even manage that?" Sandrone asked.
"Very poor planning and excessive optimism?" Jahoda offered weakly.
Pulonia chose that moment to yowl again, a sound of pure betrayal that echoed down the hallway.
"Is that a cat?" Jahoda's expression brightened. "You have a cat! Can I meet them?"
"No."
"Aw, come on—"
"Pulonia doesn't like strangers. Or most people. Or me, half the time." Sandrone set the carrier down. "But I'll help with the couch if you promise not to break my dolly."
"Deal!" Jahoda practically bounced. "Thank you so much, seriously, I've been fighting this thing for like forty minutes and I think it's winning."
Sandrone stepped into the apartment, immediately cataloging the disaster zone. Boxes everywhere, most of them labeled in handwriting that suggested Jahoda had been in a hurry. A small TV balanced precariously on what might have been a coffee table. A lamp with no shade. A pile of clothes that had apparently just been dumped on the floor.
"So, uh, the building manager said you were an engineer?" Jahoda was saying, circling the couch like a boxer looking for an opening. "That's pretty cool. I'm in a community college right now, part-time, studying... well, I haven't decided yet. Kind of bouncing between business and maybe criminal justice? Though honestly neither of those seem that interesting, I just—"
"You're going to have to tilt it.” Sandrone interrupted, already analyzing the angles. "The doorway's too narrow for a straight shot."
"I tried tilting! It just gets more stuck."
"You tilted it the wrong direction." Sandrone moved to one end of the couch. "On three, lift and rotate counterclockwise. Got it?"
"Got it." Jahoda positioned herself at the other end, looking determined.
"One. Two. Three."
They lifted. The couch, apparently exhausted from its earlier rebellion, grudgingly cooperated. With some grunting, a near-miss with the doorframe that would definitely leave a mark, and what Sandrone would generously call "teamwork," they managed to wrestle it into the apartment proper.
"Yes!" Jahoda pumped her fist. "Take that, furniture! Weeeee are the champiooooons!”
Sandrone wiped her hands on her pants. "You should probably measure your doorways before ordering furniture in the future."
"Yeah, yeah, lesson learned." Jahoda was still grinning, apparently unbothered by the criticism. "Hey, you want something to drink? I think I've got... uh..." She dug through a box. "Warm soda and questionable tap water?"
"I'm good."
"Right, right. Of course." Jahoda straightened up, suddenly looking a bit awkward. "But seriously, thank you. For helping, I mean. I know you didn't have to."
"Lauma would have been disappointed in me."
"Ha! Yeah, she's kind of scary, huh? But in a good way. She helped me get this place—my last landlord was a total scumbag, and she threatened to sue him or something, and suddenly I had my deposit back and a reference letter." Jahoda's expression softened. "She's got a good heart. So does Nefer. They're like... the mom friends I never knew I needed, you know?"
Sandrone didn't know, actually, but she nodded anyway.
From the hallway, Pulonia let out another imperious yowl.
"That's my cue." Sandrone said. "The dolly's in my apartment. I'll grab it."
"Oh, you don't have to—"
"It's easier than explaining where it is."
She retrieved Pulonia first, who immediately jumped out of the carrier and stalked to her food bowl with an air of deep offense. Sandrone made a mental note to give her extra treats later as an apology for the delayed dinner.
The dolly was in the hall closet, underneath a box of cables she'd been meaning to organize for six months. She wheeled it out and brought it to Jahoda's apartment, where the girl was attempting to make sense of her box situation.
"You're a lifesaver." Jahoda said, accepting the dolly with reverence. "I'll get it back to you as soon as I'm done, I promise."
"Tomorrow is fine."
"Tomorrow. Right. I can do that." Jahoda paused. "Hey, um... if you ever want to hang out or whatever, I'm right across the hall. I know that sounds kind of forward, but I don't really know anyone in this building yet, and you seem... cool?"
Sandrone highly doubted she seemed cool. Competent, maybe. Possibly intimidating. But not cool.
"I'll keep that in mind.” She said, which was her polite way of saying absolutely not.
Jahoda seemed to take it as encouragement anyway, smile brightening. "Awesome! And thanks again, seriously. You're like a furniture-moving hero."
"It was basic physics."
"Still counts!"
Sandrone was retreating to her own apartment when she heard the sound of more footsteps on the stairs—lighter this time, almost unnaturally quiet. She glanced back out of curiosity.
A woman was climbing to the third floor, carrying a single small box with apparent ease. She was... striking, Sandrone supposed, though in an odd way she couldn't quite articulate. Dark hair that caught the hallway's fluorescent light strangely. Eyes that seemed almost colorless. Something about her movements that was just slightly off, like a video playing at the wrong frame rate.
The woman noticed Sandrone watching and smiled. It was a pleasant smile, the kind that should have been reassuring.
It wasn't.
"Hello." the woman said, voice soft and musical. "I'm looking for apartment 7B? My friend is waiting for me."
"That's..." Sandrone pointed across the hall, where Jahoda had left the door open. "Right there."
"Thank you." The woman tilted her head slightly, still smiling. "You must be a neighbor. How fortunate."
Before Sandrone could figure out how to respond to that, Jahoda's voice called out: "Columbina! You made it! Did you find the place okay?"
The woman—Columbina, apparently—turned away. "Yes, thank you. Though I took a wrong turn at the second floor."
"That's the trick door! I warned you about that. Come in, come in—oh, is that the box with my good dishes? Thank god, I was worried it got lost in the move..."
Their voices faded as they moved deeper into the apartment. Sandrone stood there for a moment longer, trying to identify what had felt so off about that brief interaction.
Then Pulonia meowed impatiently from inside her apartment, and she decided it wasn't worth thinking about.
Probably just another weird neighbor. The building seemed to collect them.
She had enough to worry about without adding stranger analysis to the list.
Inside her apartment, Pulonia had already claimed her favorite spot on the back of the couch, loafing with her paws tucked neatly underneath her. Sandrone dropped her work bag, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed onto the couch with a groan.
"Long day." she told the cat.
Pulonia slow-blinked at her, which was probably the closest thing to sympathy she'd get.
Sandrone pulled out her phone to check her emails and immediately regretted it. Three messages from Zandik about the prototype, each one more insufferable than the last. Two from the department head, both marked urgent. One from HR about some mandatory training she'd apparently missed.
She closed her email app and opened a game instead.
Tomorrow, she decided. She'd deal with all of it tomorrow.
For now, she had a cat to feed, a frozen dinner to microwave, and absolutely no desire to think about anything more complicated than that.
From across the hall, she could hear muffled voices and occasional laughter. Jahoda's voice, bright and animated. That other woman—Columbina—softer, harder to make out.
Pulonia's ear twitched toward the sound, but she didn't otherwise move.
"They seem loud." Sandrone told her.
The cat made a small chirping noise that might have been agreement.
"We're not getting involved."
Another chirp.
"I'm serious."
Pulonia began grooming her paw with deliberate disinterest, which Sandrone took as feline for sure, whatever you say.
She sighed and got up to feed the cat. Tomorrow. Everything could wait until tomorrow.