The city is dead tonight.

  Dark blue-gray clouds drag themselves across the horizon, swallowing what’s left of the skyline. Heavy fog hangs over Manhattan, cutting the buildings in half so they look unfinished. Abandoned. Like the world just stopped building one day and never came back to finish the job.

  At the center of it all stands the headquarters of A.G.E.N.C.Y., a single structure glowing faintly through the mist. From street level, the light is barely visible. But I know it’s there. It never turns off.

  Inside, people move fast. Too fast. Employees rush through the endless maze of hallways and departments like they’re being timed. Nobody talks unless they have to. Nobody stops unless they’re told.

  I’m in one of the lower offices, boxed into a narrow cubicle that feels more like storage than workspace. The air smells recycled. Metallic. My terminal hums in front of me, screen casting a pale glow across my desk as I work through another stack of reports.

  Then a sharp ping cuts through the silence.

  I glance at the corner of my screen.

  New email received.

  My mind is still in a haze from the sudden news, but I shake it off and continue working on a separate open file… until I notice something. There are no clicking noises or steady typing reverberating off the sterile office walls like usual. No low chatter near the water dispenser. No gossip slipping between the narrow cubicle spaces.

  A.G.E.N.C.Y. is oddly quiet at this time of day.

  As much as I normally welcome silence, this one unsettles me. I glance up at the large digital wall clock blinking red: 1800. I usually get off around 1900, assuming I’m not staying for overtime. That’s an hour too early for everyone to start heading out. I look around my desk to see what’s going on and notice most of my coworkers are already grabbing their coats and collecting their things, movements quick and deliberate. My desk neighbor, EMPLOYEE NO. 64820937412 (as far as you can recall her name)— passes behind me without a word.

  I call out to her. "Hey, Agent. Why does everyone look like they’re leaving already?"

  She glances over her shoulder at me. "Oh… haven’t you heard? Snow Hazard Advisory. Five inches in the past three hours. Totally unsafe to stay at work. They made an announcement earlier at lunch."

  “Oh” I blink, a little confused for a second, then grab my black leather briefcase and coat. "Uh… thanks for the heads-up."

  "You shouldn’t be so focused on work, you know? You’re missing the important things. You didn’t even notice we were all leaving. You were glued to your screen the whole time."

  I can’t tell if she’s genuinely concerned or if this is just her usual act—her bad reputation certainly precedes her.

  “Right… but we work with computers, so naturally I’ll be glued to my screen most of the time.”

  She looks at me weirdly. "Uh… OK? I was just trying to help…" She shakes her head and walks away, but I catch her muttering under her breath before she’s completely out of earshot. “Smartass.”

  I furrow my brows. Fair enough—I am glued to the computer most of the time. It’s literally my job. Whatever. Sounds like she was just trying to get a rise out of me anyway.

  I stand up, grab my briefcase and coat, and start making my way toward the exit.

  After I push past the turnstile and swing the revolving glass door open, I’m hit immediately by the harsh air. The gray, polluted sky hangs even lower than usual, heavy and oppressive, and the glowing ads and billboards along the streets fade into the distance. There are hardly any people out, and the few vehicles that are moving crawl along like they’re frozen in place.

  I make my way quickly to the subway. By the time I reach the station, it’s packed with passengers, heads hanging low as they move in and out of the trains. I squeeze through and hop in just before the doors close, shuffling in the confined space. Rush hour is nothing new to me; I’m used to the swarm of bodies, and besides, I don’t live far from work anyway.

  By the time I step off at my station, winter has dialed down slightly. The first snowfall in New York in the final year of the century feels… haunting, but undeniably beautiful. I walk at a slow pace, letting my eyes follow the delicate snowflakes drifting down, watching my breath hang in the frosty air. The usual noise of Manhattan is gone, muffled, like the city itself is holding its breath.

  The cold seeps through the soles of my boots. My cheeks flush, and I pull my coat tighter, tightening my scarf around my neck. I start walking again. The moment's over.

  My fingers fiddle with my apartment keys as the jingle resounds through the empty halls of the complex. I make myself some mental notes to remember. I need to take out the trash, buy groceries for next week, and pay the utility bills.

  My mind wanders to my roommates, Natalie and Arthur. I’m sure Art’s already on his way home as well, but I’m not too confident about Nat. She’s probably still hanging around with her bandmates after their gig.

  I twist the key in ease and remove my shoes as soon as I enter the apartment. The familiar scent of home lingers and embraces me as soon as I drop my bag and hang my coat. I pass by the entryway mirror and give myself a perfunctory glance, seeing myself in the dark, wearing a company-sponsored parka, a white button-down underneath, a black tie peeking, and straight-leg suit pants—the prescribed uniform at A.G.E.N.C.Y., except for the fact that most of the women at the office wear pencil skirts and not pants as I do.

  I head straight toward my room to change into something more comfortable. My hands roam over the switch, flicking it on. The dim lights envelop the room with an odd silence.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  My eyes do a quick sweep of the room before landing on a figure, seemingly resting on my bed.

  Wait… what?

  Why is there a man in my room?! Who the hell is this?!

  My mind immediately jumps to the worst-case scenario: this guy’s here to kill me. He wakes up. I get stabbed. Life flashes before my eyes one last time before darkness swallows me. I wasted half of my life working like a corporate drone. I die.

  I step out of the room as quietly as the night and grab the first thing I see—Art’s leftover bottle of beer on the kitchen counter. Let’s hope this is enough to defend myself.

  I step back into the room and carefully watch every second of his breathing. I place myself in an offensive stance, ready to strike at any moment. I try to think back to the few self-defense techniques Nat taught me. Damn it. I’m blanking. Maybe I should’ve actually paid attention when she was trying to teach me something useful for once.

  Whatever. I’ll take this shot in the dark.

  But just as I’m about to lift my hand and strike, the man before me shifts his body.

  As I step toward the door, ready to make a break for it, the man gets up from the bed with a groan. He has a lean build and is slightly taller than I am. He gingerly touches his temple, clearly disoriented. His warm, honey-brown eyes scan the room before landing on me. His breath steadies, and I notice his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  "Hello… W-where am I?"

  Great. Now apparently this guy has no idea where he is.

  “You’re in my room. In my home.”

  My words make him instantly clutch his head, like he’s in intense pain. My forehead creases. "What’s wrong?"

  "I’m sorry. I…" Once he seems to have gathered himself, he responds again. "I don’t know what just happened."

  "It’s… fine. But, uh, like I said, you’re in my apartment."

  "Oh." A soft whisper escapes his lips. He looks around my room, trying to get a lay of the land. He doesn’t seem threatened, and, strangely enough, neither do I—but I don’t want to assume anything before this is resolved.

  "I’m sorry, but will you please help me? I have no idea how I ended up here."

  "Do you really not recall anything?"

  He shakes his head slowly, looking almost sad. "I don’t."

  "Let’s go back to the beginning. Try to recount what you remember."

  He nods, concentrating, and sits up properly.

  I let my eyes linger on him, taking in the details with curiosity. He’s wearing a crimson-colored jumpsuit adorned with deep navy lines that trace his arms and legs, and an array of pockets is scattered across his attire. A sturdy-looking belt cinches tightly around his torso, and his heavy black boots lend his presence an air of purpose.

  He’s wearing some sort of utility clothing. Could he be a mechanic? Or in the military?

  Wait, what’s that?

  I could’ve sworn I hear a faint thrum somewhere in the room, which is concerning, considering I just arrived and haven’t turned on any appliances yet. The whirring is rhythmic but steady. I probably wouldn’t notice it in a loud room. Here, however, it’s quiet enough to catch it.

  The man seems to notice my face scrunching. "Is something the matter?"

  "Yeah, no, just…" My eyes travel around the room. "Uh, I can hear a very quiet hum of a machine. Not sure if it’s just a fan or my laptop left open…"

  He continues staring off into space, but soon appears to be seeing something I don’t. He quickly snaps out of his reverie and gazes at me with intent. Frankly speaking, it’s unnerving. At least he doesn’t look upset anymore.

  "What is it?"

  "I apologize if our initial meeting seemed less than ideal. Allow me to formally introduce myself to you." He stands up, and I estimate his stature at around six-foot-two. His lips then slowly curl into a practiced smile. "I am an Android unit from CyberTech. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

  I heave a sigh. "Stop lying. Just tell me who you are and stop acting."

  "I'm not lying! I'm an Android, my memory tells me so!"

  "If you don't stop messing with me, I'm actually going to call the cops."

  He starts to look desperate. "Please don't. I… I don't know what to tell you."

  "Can you prove that you're an actual Android?"

  He stammers. "What do you want me to do, take a reCAPTCHA test?"

  "I don't know, think of something! You have the knowledge of the entire world in your mind, don't you?"

  He seems to have calmed his frayed nerves (if there are any) and goes silent for a second. "OK… you said it yourself earlier. You heard a very quiet hum of a machine, didn't you? That is my system. And if you still don't believe me, you can check for a pulse. Or a heartbeat."

  He extends his arm toward me and exposes his wrist. My fingers touch his soft skin for the first time. I then press my hand against his chest, looking for any signs of life. I stare him deeply in the eyes, and I feel his body tense up.

  But in both cases, I don’t feel anything.

  "Fuck." I drop my arm. "I'm sorry."

  "It's alright." The Android responds in a rather gentle voice. "Your reaction was understandable. You were quite thorough with it, weren't you?"

  I look away. "Alright, fine. I believe you." I go silent for a bit. Androids are real. It's not too hard to accept that. There have been discussions of tech companies and the government collaborating to manufacture Androids. It's just the idea of them actually existing and functioning is still mind-boggling to me. So I can't help but just sit on that thought. "But it doesn't explain your little home invasion, though. But, hey, congrats on remembering who—or what—you are. That's a start. Keep going. You still haven't told me how you got in or where you came from."

  Before the Android could even respond, I hear keys rattling from the hallway outside and the apartment’s door being unlocked.

  "Shit. That’s gotta be Leo or Cel."

  A voice echoes through the room. "Hey? Anybody home?"

  I slam the door behind me and rush to the entrance. I spot my roommate and her eye-catching dark braids, dressed in her usual thick,leather jacket, her boots stomping on the floor. She gently closes the door behind her.

  "Hey,Celene." I greet in one breath.

  "Hey…" She eyes me suspiciously. "You good? You didn’t have to greet me at the front door like we’re a married couple." She chuckles playfully.

  I laugh as well. Nervously. "Yeah. No. Just… uhm, wanted to see how you were doing, I guess, since it was snowing quite heavily today."

  "O-kay. Thanks for your concern…?" She heads to the open kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. I stick around for a minute, unsure of what to do. She cranes her neck at me. "Yes?"

  "Uhm… how was your, uh, gig?"

  She shrugs. "Fine. Not many people showed up. Probably ‘cause of the weather, too. But we still had fun."

  "I see." I nod. "Well… I’ll be in my room. Just call me if you nee—"

  "Hello?"

  I shut my eyes tight and take a deep breath. When I flutter them open, I see Nat looking at me weirdly. "Was that coming from your room?"

  I open my mouth to answer, just in time for the Android to step out of my room. "Hello? I apologize. I was worried about you. You left in a rather hurried manner and I sensed that your vitals—"

  "Oh, uh, excuse me, who are you?" Celene turns to me. "Is this your guest?"

  "Uhm…" I trail off. "Maybe let’s wait until Leo’s here so I can explain."

  Celene squints her eyes at the Android, intrigued. "Uh-huh. OK."