That night, she found herself still blogging and answering emails -- they always piled up when she travelled and took a couple of late nights to clear out -- after nine PM, sitting alone in a pool of light in the back corner of Lester's workshop that she had staked out as her office. She yawned and stretched and listened to her old back crackle. She hated feeling old, and late nights made her feel old -- feel every extra ounce of fat on her tummy, feel the lines bracketing her mouth and the little bag of skin under her chin. She stood up and pulled on a light jacket and began to switch off lights and get ready to head home. As she poked her head in Tjan's office, she saw that she wasn't the only one working late. "Hey, you," she said. "Isn't it time you got going?" He jumped like he'd been stuck with a pin and gave a little yelp. "Sorry," he said, "didn't hear you." He had a cardboard box on his desk and had been filling it with his personal effects -- little one-off inventions the guys had made for him, personal fetishes and tchotchkes, a framed picture of his kids. "What's up?" He sighed and cracked his knuckles. "Might as well tell you now as tomorrow morning. I'm resigning." She felt a flash of anger and then forced it down and forcibly replaced it with professional distance and curiosity. Mentally she licked her pencil-tip and flipped to a blank page in her reporter's notebook. "Oh yes?" "I've had another offer, in Westchester County. Westinghouse has spun out its own version of Kodacell and they're looking for a new vice-president to run the division. That's me." "Good job," she said. "Congratulations, Mr Vice-President." He shook his head. "I emailed Kettlewell half an hour ago. I'm leaving in the morning. I'm going to say goodbye to the guys over breakfast." "Not much notice," she said. "Nope," he said, a note of anger creeping into his voice. "My contract lets Kodacell fire me on one day's notice, so I insisted on the right to quit on the same terms. Maybe Kettlewell will get his lawyers to write better boilerplate from here on in." When she had an angry interview, she habitually changed the subject to something sensitive: angry people often say more than they intend to. She did it instinctively, not really meaning to psy-ops Tjan, whom she thought of as a friend, but not letting that get in the way of the story. "Westinghouse is doing what, exactly?"