After breakfast the following morning Rivqua and Zana took the elevator up to the penthouse offices to check on things.
"No, and it is most unsatisfactory," said the secretary bot, head tilted down. She hadn't heard from Hoot Gaas in the past sixteen hours and forty-three minutes either. "I have no procedure for the current status. It's a complete anomaly. In seven hours and seventeen minutes I can declare a formal emergency. Until then my duties are as normal. I'm sorry." The robot sat down and began shuffling papers on her desk. She did look sorry somehow, in a delicately programmed kind of way.
"Anomalies are for outer space," Zana said, glancing at Rivqua. "We're on the ground and we got one here too? What is this?" She looked back at the sad droid. "Have you notified the police?"
"I will as soon as it becomes a formal emergency," replied the bot, taking a stoic turn.
"Thing is," Rivqua began, "Our contract says we're supposed to get our first instalment today, this morning, like an advance on our first week's pay. That's the agreement made with Mister Bing who, being dead, unfortunately is in no position to swing his pen and sign for it. We understand that Hoot Gaas has the authority to clear artists' payments, but he's gone and apparently took his authority with him. So what do we do?"
"There is nothing you can do and there is nothing I can do." the secretary said, scanning documents and tapping away on a holographic keyboard. Her appearance was that of a mature office professional, with manner and design meant to inspire confidence and capability. But right now she looked more like a preschool principal acting like the playground wasn't on fire.
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