The city seemed to dim at night, the light of the business district shutting off below her. Rebbeca knew it was illusion, that the back streets were garishly bright, but she appreciated the effort all the same. Pretending the city needed its sleep even if its inhabitants didn’t, and night existed to have it.
She wouldn’t be getting any sleep until much later, as usual. For all her family claimed the light, she had spent most of her time now in shadow. There were too many appearances to maintain during the day. Her true work needed the dark.
Which, in a way, was only fitting. She left the window and sank into her office chair. The screens appeared above the surface of the desk, and she frowned at the never changing non-colour of the map. It showed the world she helped create, a monument to ignorance and arrogance. The brightness was blinding, perfect.
They had fought for that perfection. Against orders, even against tradition, though doing so had almost broken them. How she wished it had. They had come too close to succeeding. Now the cities shut off their lights, simulating a sunset they couldn’t see, mimicking the old balance in the face of the new order.
And nothing changed.
As much as their fight had hurt her then, it hurt more now, trying to change what they had done. But she would fix this. Whatever the map showed, it couldn’t be too late. She wouldn’t allow it.