6:10 a.m.
Seventh Agricultural War Zone, Eastern Granary Administrative Building, top floor.
Rovi stood before the sink, looking at himself in the mirror.
He had just scrubbed away the greasy feeling from deep underground with industrial alcohol and a stiff-bristled brush.
But the distinctive stench of tar and rotting fungi seemed to have seeped into his pores, and it still hadn't faded after a whole night.
He changed into a brand-new dark gray Scribe's uniform. Standing straight and neat, he fastened the collar button, then pinned a silver Double-headed Eagle Badge to his collar.
It made him look like a strict, cold, efficient Imperial bureaucrat.
He picked up the cheap synthetic coffee on the desk and walked to the window.
Through the bulletproof glass, he looked down at the sprawling Granary City below.
The gray dawn pierced the industrial smog that never cleared, spilling across the maze of pipes and factory buildings. In the distance, the chimneys of a row of long-idle heating boilers belched thick black smoke.
Corpse Wax Coal was burning.
Rovi took a sip of the bitter coffee.
The settled corpse oil and fungi were now being converted into pure heat, driving the chill from the city.
He returned to his desk and opened his black work notebook.
He crossed out "fuel shortage" from the list of deficits.
Then he neatly wrote beneath it:
[Heating System Status: Stable.]
[Fuel Reserves: Approximately 15 tons of Corpse Wax Coal. Estimated to provide heating and basic power to the core districts for 45 days.]
[Risk Warning: Fuel combustion releases trace amounts of hallucinogenic gas and a distinctive corpse stench. Exhaust filter mesh must be closely monitored to prevent mass hysteria or respiratory allergies.]
Rovi closed the notebook and glanced at his Brass Pocket Watch.
It was time.
As a manager,