It's Time

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    "If I put in enough work," a bright Alpha stated, "I can get a decent bonus this year. Or even a promotion."
    Despite the depth of inspiration bestowed on her by the Prime, Wunforoh seemed plain and forgettable to Forsephore. She wore a solid color pantsuit and business jacket, with nondescript glasses--even though Echoes never developed problems with eyesight.
    Only with being seen. Forsephore checked her skin tone again, and felt relief at the opacity of her gray arm. Whatever changed when Hope got hit, it didn't illuminate Forsephore directly, like the Alphas and the higher castes. But the inspiration bottled up within her kept her form solid, if nothing else.  
    Sevnynate smiled and nodded her head in agreement with Wunforoh's declaration. "A good goal still, Echo One Four Zero. Realistic. Achievable. Honest."
    The Chief turned her attention to the assembled Echoes. "This is the kind of ideal that has a chance--the sort of aspirations the Prime needs right now. For stability's sake. Who is next?"
    Another radiant image of Hope rose from her seat with the other Alphas. Once again, the glow of inspiration stood in sharp contrast with the echo's appearance. Hair disheveled, sporting a tank top and sweat pants, Thriphyvate stammered out her declaration. "I--I will not become a crazy cat lady. Two cats are enough..." She shot a glance at Sevnynate to gauge the Chief's reaction, then blurted out, "--maybe three, max."
    Sevnynate pursed her lips. "Yes. Let's stick with two for now. Next?"
    One by one, each Alpha called out their ideal to the assembly.
    "I won't let the numbers on the scale go above one-sixty," a more pudgy version of Hope professed.
    "I am content with the one good friend I've got," another said, and Sevnynate agreed with vigor. "No reason to risk rejection."
    "Pretty much everybody spends all night on the Internet. I might as well make the most of my Netflix subscription--otherwise I'm wasting money."
    "Exactly my point," the next Alpha declared. "I'm going to pay my bills and save for a rainy day."
    "Sound advice," Sevnynate said. "We never know when calamity may strike. Best to avoid risk."
    A suffocating numbness settled over Forsephore. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. This feels all wrong. It's more lifeless and dreary in here than out in the plaza full of Withers and Fades.
    Yet the gathered echoes listened and nodded along with each Alpha's declaration as if mesmerized by deep wisdom.
They can do nothing else, Forsephore realized. The Prime grants inspiration as She chooses. Whoever has the most leads our society.
    The right of petition offered echoes an opportunity to be heard, but it seemed a mere formality. Led by Sevnynate's harsh and unrelenting logic, the few petitions Forsephore had seen were shot down after minimal consideration.
Direct confrontation seemed futile. Forsephore scanned the room. She ignored Sevnynate's droning voice and slipped between clusters of Echoes.
    I need allies. And none of the ones I want are here.
    The inspiration locked within her charged her with energy demanding release. She marched out of the Hub and surveyed the dismal scene.
    Everything shifted with Hope's accident. I felt it. I'm sure of it.
    Forsephore looked into the emptiness above and imagined Hope lying in the hospital bed.
    Time to convince Her of what I already know.

---

    Hope flopped onto her couch and kicked off her shoes. Doc Stephens' promise to "release you in the morning" turned into more tests, second opinions, stacks of paperwork, and a runaround with the insurance company. A second day of work vanished, consumed by the hospital's nightmare of bureaucracy. Another wasted chance to catch up at the office.
Button padded across the couch and curled on Hope's lap in a gray-striped heap of purring. Mittens peered around the corner for a moment and strutted into the kitchen toward her dish.
    Hope thumbed open her social media apps and checked for notifications. Not one message from anyone other than Claudia.
    She scrolled through the stream of food pictures and political snark from former college classmates, skimmed over religious images from family back home, and ignored the clickbait sprinkled throughout.
    I could have died yesterday. And life would go on as usual for everyone else.
    She slapped the phone down onto the couch. Button jumped to the floor and slunk away.
    Hope stared at her blank TV screen and fought to hold in tears. She tried to sort out the jumble of emotion in her chest--sadness, frustration, loneliness, apathy. But beyond those, an overwhelming emptiness filled her with a sense of futility. I should do something. Anything. Get out of the apartment for a bit.
    She entertained the thoughts for a moment. "What's the frickin' point?"
    Hope slumped across the couch, her arms hanging limp off the side. Button wove between her hands, the tip of his tail visible above the cushion like a shark fin.
    The phone buzzed and its screen flashed to life with a text from Claudia.
    Hope rubbed her eyes and read the message.
    "Heard the good news, glad you're ok. Dancing tonight? The hottie trainer from my gym is gonna be there, I'll introduce you."
    Hope tapped out an apology, then paused, her thumb hovering over the Send button. Maybe it's time to live a little.
    She shot back a "yes" and headed for the closet.

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