Run: 2026-02-22-01KJ36B3MTJ3RFN6VQ5HXN2QDX

Mara did not wish to be present there. She had sworn to herself she would not return, yet there she stood, standing in the lobby of the building she had left three years before. It had not been intended to feel this way. "You are late," said the receptionist, a young man who did not look up from his screen. He had been typing something, and he did not pause. "She is waiting in the conference room. You will want to hurry—she is not in a good disposition." Mara could not discern whether that remark was intended as a warning or merely casual conversation. It did not matter, for she had already made her decision, and there was no point in second-guessing it now. The hallway had not altered. The same grey carpet, the same harsh lighting, the same faint scent of coffee that had stood too long. Mara would not have been astonished to find her old nameplate still affixed to the door, but it was not there. Someone else’s name had taken its place. "I did not expect you to actually come," said Priya, who had risen from her chair the moment Mara entered. She was not smiling. "We have a problem, and you are the only one who can assist." "I am not certain that is accurate," Mara said. "I have not been involved in the project for years. I would not know where to commence." "You would be surprised," Priya said. "It is the same codebase. They have not altered the core modules. You would recognize it instantly." Mara did not respond immediately. She had already told herself she would not be drawn back in. Yet she had not anticipated Priya asking in person. That was not fair—it was harder to refuse someone when they were looking at you directly. "I shall consider it," she said. That was neither a yes nor a no, and they both knew it.