Time passed quickly when fun was had. It should have. It made no sense. Yet, time had no care for how humans thought and sped up in their happiest moments nonetheless. Cassandra heard excuses for the higher speeds, that the brains temporarily forgot to count the seconds. She thought that was straight-up bullshit.

Not anymore, though. Cassandra had always been a time-person. There was not a second where she would not know how long till a minute has passed. Nobody asked for it but her. Normally, she would even have a digital clock in the upper right of her vision. The knowledge of the time was calming.

Therein did the conundrum stay. If the information was in front of her eyes at any hour of the day, would she not learn to ignore it? Constants were overlooked in favour of letting up space in the active memory. It was only when thinking about it that she even noticed that six-digit timer.

Granted, it was almost always she thought about it, yet that did not mean she always looked at it. In times of great action, Cassandra would not have been able to tell the time, her eyes honed in on the external instead of anything internal. But, it was also not only heated moments, as she had come to learn.

In times of laziness, where the texture of a chess piece could indulge her attention for several minutes, Cassandra found it hard to even care about how much time she wasted. The woman always so stuck up about making every second count had fallen in the span of just a few hours, left to walk among the others of her new class.

“I think I should do it,” Jules said. The automation would not stop eyeing the wall. Cassandra did the same, in some fashion. There were a couple of obvious hand-holds, but there was no way it could be realistically done. Getting a ladder would be much more practical. And, more importantly, it would pose less of a security risk to do so.

“I highly advise you to think about this as a human being. Your inferior programming might finally show itself off if you decide to take the wrong choice in this endeavour of yours,” Cassandra said, internally wanting to see what would happen. She did not need to pay for it in the worst case, and… it was not every day that something of this calibre was seen. At least not in real life. Stunt performers usually had that job.

But, were the greatest performers, not those who could go beyond the human limit. Who would want to see the old Olympics when they knew that the downtown police officer could run that same stretch in half the time? Who would want to see a high-jump, when it could easily be beaten by rescue units? Who wanted to see bricks broken with one palm, having trained for it their entire lives, when an old man could do the same with only a year of training? It was baseless to assume that pure power would help negate skill, but there had to be some point where it was accepted.

“It's only inferior if it fails, and there is no way I would fail. I am just too perfect for that,” Jules said, taking the first towards the vertical wall. Oh… the scrap bucket had made a choice. “Here. We. Go.”

A running start, entering into a high jump. That helped bridge the initial gap where nothing could be gripped. Cassandra knew it could jump much higher than those two meters. But, doing so would likely crack the walls. Automations were not good at displaying their strength when the surroundings needed to be in mint condition afterwards. The second law played too hard against them.

“Could you take a picture,” Jules half-shouted down at Cassandra. There was no need for that, seeing as they were the only two in the break-room. Maybe the perceived height brought the illusion that higher volumes were needed? Or, maybe it was just another blunder made to make it look more realistic. “I need to show this off later.”

Even if the automation could clearly just have used one of the many cameras looking their way, Cassandra decided to indulge it, even if it was just a temporary thing. Bringing in the application, she put up a running roll of film at the automation. Everything she saw would be noted down. Jules would have to personally decide which frames would be the best.

The building was one of the older ones. While still made in the last decade, it had been made in a time where displaying the iron beams had been popular. This made the higher parts of the break room filled with places to put one’s hands. With the right skill and reach, one could travel anywhere. There was always just the danger of falling three meters down, but who would need to think of such? Cassandra could survive it, and so could Jules. The floor, however? It might get bent down by the slightest bit.

The automation began the journey across the ceiling, using individual fingers to hold on. If both hands had been available for use, it would have been a much easier task. Yet… the bucket of stupid metal had decided to make it that much harder for itself.

“Steady now. If you fall, you will cause major damage to the furniture and table,” Cassandra warned. This was the dangerous part. If the automation fell, the wooden pieces would have no chances of holding up against the sudden force. No repairs would be possible, forcing the woman to pay for replacements. And… they were not cheap, being worth four whole days of work. “Just put it in and get down the way you came up.”

“By jumping? I thought that was exactly what I wasn't supposed to do,” Jules said, being a smug little thing. If it had been within reach, Cassandra would have slapped its backhead. However… she was more preoccupied about worrying her head off at the sight.

The automation had seemingly desired that using hands for gripping was a stupid endeavour. With no need for moving around, the feet had been put to the task of holding the scrap-iron up in the air, positioned in such a way that the toes could take the pressure. This left the two hands to do the one task that had been planned for so long.

Changing a light-bulb.

It had taken a good twenty minutes to figure out where they were being kept, but it was more than worth it. The older light had caused Cassandra so much despair after its unsymmetrical flickering had been noticed by Jules and sequentially being pointed out to her. It had been the bane of so much hatred, the woman’s brain refusing to forget the sight. It came to show on every surface in the entire breakroom.

Looking at it directly made her realise how out of sync it really was with the other lamps. Looking away from it made her see the shadows on the ground not matching up, that they would change with a random frequency. Something was wrong with it. Having gone to the extreme of looking up when it was last replaced, Cassandra found the information spotty. According to the archives, it had supposedly been put up at the building’s original creation.

But, they were never one to question information, when it was officially sourced, making the two feel the extreme need to fix the presumed problem. For Cassandra, she had gotten the perfectly logically idea of filing in a report about the issue, and waiting the standard time for a certified repairman to come and take a look at it. Jules, in its full intelligence, had decided that her idea was utterly terrible, and that waiting a single second was a ‘sin again John Carlin himself.’ Cassandra had not personally understood it but had nonetheless agreed to try it out.

Though… that had been mostly due to her role in it all. Sure, she had been the one to find the storage room, but the actual replacement process was entirely Jules’ job. As it was now, the automation dangling over expensive furniture, while muttering what sounded like an old kid’s theme song, Cassandra had to wonder how much blame she would get for it.

What excuse was there for the current situation? Reason for insanity? Accidental intoxication of life? A stupid new worker who was so clumsy that she forgot the rules? Playing a dumb blonde was not too hard, but it only worked with those she hadn't talked with for too long. Jared would surely not overlook that faked lack of wisdom.

…

Okay, maybe he would. Cassandra was not too sure. He was forgiving, so it did not matter too much. A few tears needed to be shed, and they would be right back on the good foot, no thoughts about the thousands of repairments costs. In fact… this might just be an opportunity to finally exploit the man. If all else failed, Cassandra could always try the route of making him pay.

“Catch!”

Cassandra barely had time to look up, before she was forced to jump forward, to grab the light bulb thrown her way. It was the old one, slightly hot to the touch, and dusty enough to cause an allergic reaction to the unfortunate ones in society. Cassandra certainly looked at it with mild annoyance. It had been the reason behind her troubles for the past hour. When Jules finished the job, they would be throwing it out. The woman had to make sure it would never be used again.

The automation brought out the new bulb, with a twist of its fingers. Pressing against the socket, Jules began to screw it on. Or, was that tried to screw it on? The first time around was a failure, the automation having put it in the wrong way. The second pressure was taken off it, the bulb began falling towards the floor. Jules barely catched it, and then barely continued being up on the ceiling. Cassandra had backed away the second it had been dropped.

“... Sorry,” Jules said apologetically. Cassandra was not happy but was more just disgruntled than anything else. A minor mistake had almost cost her a lot of money. “Second time is the charm… right?”

“It is traditionally the third, but you should not dare fail again,” Cassandra corrected, her gaze unwavering. She did not accept failure here. However… a few more steps away had been made. While she did not accept it, there was nothing really stopping it from happening. And if it did happen, nothing was stopping her from being a good distance away from it.

Jules looked a bit sheepish as it bent down… bent up and began to screw the light in again. This time, the focus was spent making sure that it had been put in properly. No mistake made twice in a row could be forgiven, and an automation capable of learning a language in a matter of minutes did not make such a human action. Failure after failure? It would not happen.

And it didn't happen. The process was slow, yes, but each twist made the light-bulb grow more inward. After some time, it did not allow itself to go deeper. Jules could have surely forced the lamp deeper, but there was no need for such a thing yet. With no spoken words, Cassandra went over to the side of the room, pressing the switch on the wall.

“Let there be light.”

And there was light. It was beautiful. Not in a traditional manner, of course. More in an abstract form. An automaton was wearing an expression of wonder while looking at a lamp, simultaneously standing on the ceiling, the only thing holding it up being the toes in the crevices of an iron beam.

Perhaps there was some global meaning to the sight. Cassandra did not spend any thought trying to find it. The abstract was sometimes just meant to be abstract, and she would spend no time trying to figure out the true meaning behind it.

Certainly not when her boss walked inside the break room. How long had he been standing there? Cassandra could not remember. She had been too distracted to pay attention. Just like the time.

“Should I ask about the ways you are using expensive police equipment?” Officer Grunwald asked. It was somehow not set up as a rhetorical question. He was genuinely asking her.

“I would prefer it if you didn't,” Cass answered, being in a similar state of not wanting the situation to be dealt with on a professional level. Really… was there any way to treat the current scenario in such a way? The woman could remember no real laws against the actions done, but that was more or less due to the total ridiculousness about it.

“I would love it,” Jules said in protest, putting its arm up… down. Cassandra gave the automation a blank stare at that. She could only imagine that the other officer in the room did the same.

“... We are discussing in the meeting room when Jared comes back. There has been contact with the group again,” Officer Grunwald said after a time. “Be ready within the next five minutes.”

A meeting. That was good to know. Cassandra was meant to be on duty in nine hours, and she already had the promise of not getting much sleep beforehand. Welp… nothing to do when duty called.

Grunwald began to walk out of the breakroom again, before looking back one last time.

“And, lastly, please do not perform something like this again. We have an image to uphold.”

Cassandra silently nodded. Looking up, she could see Jules doing a salute. A forehead was slapped due to excessive fatigue. The seconds had been counted, and they had passed much too slowly.