Eli's heart sank. He went from workstation to workstation, asking everyone he met, but their answers were astonishingly consistent.
"Alf? Oh, the new boy." An elderly scribe adjusted the greasy magnifying lenses on his nose. "He was transferred the day after the accident. I heard he went to a higher-level archive. A cushy posting, that."
"Transferred?" Eli froze, a tangle of disappointment and abandonment welling up inside him. "That brat left without even saying goodbye?"
He returned to his familiar wooden desk and instinctively glanced at the empty seat beside it. A timid young man had once sat there, someone who had never even dared to raise his voice. Here, Eli had taken lashes for him. Here, he had used his own body to give him a chance to survive.
Eli sighed, feeling hollow inside. It felt as though he had lost something terribly important.
Just then, an Interior Ministry official in an immaculate black uniform, his face as cold as an ice sculpture, stopped directly in front of Eli's desk with two fully armed guards in tow. The official removed a parchment transfer order bearing a golden Aquila from a sealed titanium document case and began reading in an utterly emotionless voice.
"Scribe Eli, identification number 9527."
"Following deliberation by the Terra Interior Ministry," the official's voice echoed through the deathly quiet archive, drawing everyone's attention, "in recognition of the courage beyond the call of duty and... irrational spirit of self-sacrifice you displayed during the 'Accidental Activation of the Omega-Level Purification Protocol Incident'..."
When the official read the word "irrational," the corner of his mouth seemed to twitch, as though he were suppressing the urge to pass some judgment.
"...by special authorization at the highest level, you are hereby relieved of your duties as a bottom-tier scribe."
At this,