Jade read the letter two more times, memorizing the lines and wondering what the hell it all meant. The Management’s missives sometimes held a certain poetic tone. Jade could never decide what was profound and what was just wrapped up in a convoluted mixture of philosophy and high-handedness. Or maybe it was a translation quirk of beings that weren’t human trying to communicate with humans. But she’d never seen anything this inscrutable.
She made a cup of coffee—roasted, ground, and poured perfectly in every way. Coffee, she had learned in the training, was the drink of ultimate perception. A perfect cup of coffee, The Management had explained, could help you see the world in the way it was meant to be seen. They had also cautioned that coffee—along with stout, absinthe, and water—could not be influenced by Jakes, Jades, or even The Management themselves. Those safe havens had made coffee Jade’s beverage of choice over the years. Every time she needed to ponder, every time a difficult sense of destiny and decision took her longer than usual to determine, she looked through the gently wafting steam of a fresh cup of coffee and found her way.
Today’s cuppa offered no insights. Reality was as obscure as the black liquid in her cup, nearly as opaque as GPS.
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