Insomnia

21

"Esme, darling, if you're going to give out little tutorials like that at least remember to advertise your work - a little product placement never hurt anybody."

Esme stared out the window from the depths of a plush armchair. Ceres hosted her agency in its own skyscraper within Office Space. Rent was cheap inside a dream.

"But it's a good instinct," continued Ceres, "I can see it! Your own broadcasted webseries, millions of viewers!"

"It was a one time thing," Esme said. "I was just paying back a ... favor."

"A favor?" asked Ceres. "What might that be?"

"Nothing important," Esme pursed her lips in determined silence.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the Knightmare, would it?"

Esme froze. Her shock bled into the office as ice crackled onto the armrests of her chair. Ceres smirked.

"You've hardly been subtle," she said, "I've done my best to keep the tabloids away - which is hard enough when I don't actually know why you're so eager to chase after this psycho. I had to promise a one on one interview with Alistair Lanthrop of all people." She sniffed before nodding pointedly at the blanket of frost Esme had woven into existence. "Undo that, will you? It might not be real but there's no need to ruin perfectly good furniture."

Esme banished the ice with a dismissive flick of her wrist. Dream leakage was common among Psions, but she had thought herself better trained than that.

"It's private," she said. "Don't get involved."

"If it's taking time away from your work..."

"It isn't."

"Oh, but it is," Ceres said, leaning back in her chair. "You haven't produced any work in half a year. Before, you were hurling some wild idea across my desk at least once a week. Now I have to spend a month waiting just to talk to you."

A thought occurred to Esme.

"Tell you what," she said, "I'll share what I'm up to if you can get me information. From these sources of yours."

"About?" Ceres cocked a curious eyebrow.

"The Omens of Knightmare."

Ceres raised an eyebrow.

"You don't make things simple..." she muttered.

"So you know about them."

"More than I'd like," Ceres said. "I know too many Psions that have been taken in by that damned cult."

"This group isn't mainstream, is it? I'd never even heard of it until recently."

"You don't hear much of anything outside your work, Esme. But no, it's not too prevalent. Yet."

"What does that mean?"

Ceres sighed.
"The Omens don't have too much influence. And no rational Psion would be caught dead supporting them publicly. But I hear things. Questions, people wondering if there's maybe something to what they have to say."

"But it's garbage!" Esme protested. "I've read their manifesto - it's complete nonsense. It's just a way for them to justify being cruel to people who can't fight back."

"I know that. And you know that. But the world's had this sort of faux-scientific elitism since Darwin first got published. And it's... alluring, this idea. The sense of power, belonging, purpose." Ceres scoffed. "It gives answers to a lot of questions, never mind that they're unfathomly stupid."