The Minister's office was on the fourteenth floor of a building that smelled like carpet and old decisions.
Seren arrived seven minutes early.
He sat in the waiting area with his folder on his lap and looked at the wall opposite and did not think about the fact that six months ago he had been sitting at a desk on the thirty-first floor wondering how long the suppressant patch would hold.
A woman appeared at the door.
"Mr. Valez."
He stood.
Minister Adaeze Okafor was fifty-three and had the specific quality of someone who had stopped performing authority years ago because she no longer needed to.
She shook his hand.
Gestured at the chair across from her desk.
Sat.
Looked at him for a moment without speaking.
Seren looked back.
"I read the Ashby piece three times," she said.
He said nothing.
