Per 
Warm steam rose up gently from the soup bowl and up to the Director’s face. Eyes tired from long hours in the office, and a nose stinging from the cold winter nights. This meal was a welcome respite.
She thanked the cooks for the meal, in a dialect now forgotten by the outside world, and ate.
The chime that hung just above the entrance to the restaurant gave a pleasant ring as the next customer walked in. Agent Yurikov, dusting the snow from his jacket, made his way to the Director who was sitting by a table facing a wall.
Hesitant, he was unsure how to greet her on such an important occasion, stopping in his tracks half-way towards the table. I-I can’t be rude by interrupting - Yurikov thought to himself, and began fidgeting with his cold hands to warm them up. He wanted to make a good impression for this meeting, so he waited. But these anxieties got cut short from his mind as soon as the Director said, “Don’t just stand there.” shortly before kicking a seat out from beneath the table.
“You’ll catch a cold. Sit.”
“I… Thank you.”
Agent Yurikov took his seat across from the Director. Pulling himself into the table, causing the legs of the chair to screech along the wooden floor.
The Director gave him a look that told him to stop.
“S-Sorry.” He said.
It had been a while since the Agent saw the Site Director’s face. It was the same as always, wrinkled, puffed up and red from the winter cold with an even redder nose, and glassy eyes which stared deep into his.
“S-Site Director Niyebe, I brought the files you asked fo-”
He was then interrupted again. The Director had held up her hand up to his mouth and said “What would you like?”
Confused, the Agent remained silent.
“…To eat.”
“Oh! U-Umm, Sinigang, please.”
Minutes went by as Niyebe ate slowly in silence. Not knowing what do in the meantime, the Agent simply flicked through his files to see if there were any details he might’ve forgotten.
Once the meal was completely finished, much to Yurikov’s relief, they finally got down to business. The agent had brought files that listed every bizarre case he’d been involved with, every effort made in service to the Foundation resting in one big binder that even he struggled to carry, and the Director simply ignored it.
“A-aren’t you going to..?”
“It’s for the O5 to read. I’m fully aware of your skills and achievements; - I don’t need any papers or documents to remind me of them.”
Yurikov mentally kicked himself for getting so worked up. He’d spent the past week memorising his work history in Foundation service, all the achievements and certificates of gratification he’d accumulated over the years, ready to discuss his future with the Site Director, only to simply hand it over like a pizza delivery. In a way, he felt relieved, and in another he was greatly vexed. It didn’t exactly help that it was the middle of the night, and Yurikov was pulling all nighters back to back. He looked and felt exhausted.
Seeing the frustration on her Agent’s face, Director Niyebe chuckled to herself, while he was fully ready plant his face firmly into his meal.
After thanking the cooks for the food, the two grabbed their coats, Yurikov almost slumping off his chair as he did so, and exited out of the restaurant and into a snowy city lit by neon signs and broken streetlights.
Half the buildings were either partly destroyed or gone completely. No single structure remained fully in tact. Roads looked cracked and uneven with trash bags and junk thrown to the streets, while faded billboards and posters that hadn’t been changed since the 90s hung from the walls lining every corner of the city.
To many this was home. To others, this was Containment Site-31, Biringan.
Site Director Niyebe and Agent Yurikov wandered through the mess of uneven pavements, Yurkov watching as the snow fell into the footprints left by his shoes, while Nibeye gazed at the almost three decade old graffiti that could be found throughout Biringan’s alleyways.
It read things such as “magic is real”, “open your eyes” and “abracadabra” which made the Site Director laugh every time she saw it, especially that last one. Some graffiti depicted anomalous mythological figures and symbols found in organised crime and religion. Yurikov found it all too unnerving, not wanting to pay much attention to the figures he recognised on the walls. Though there were no memetic hazards from these images, the agent simply felt like he didn’t want to risk it. So he abided by the yellow tape, kept out and looked away.
Occasionally armed security or a citizen would be spotted here and there but, oddly enough, nothing out the ordinary from what they were familiar with. They simply waved to one another as they passed by.
Citizens away from the Foundation’s camps would huddle round meagre fires that they had made themselves through hand gestures and arcane dialects. While the rest were in shelters or hidden away in abandoned buildings accompanied by onsite staff, looking for something that was perhaps lost decades ago hidden beneath the neon lit debris.
This was the view every staff member saw, day after day. However, Niyebe had made such a habit of walking back and forth along these streets, that she’d created a little map of all the strange and mundane things she’d found in her elderly explorations. These included fire-breathing stray cats, vending machines that dispensed something if you told them a good joke, and old Coke bottles that contained Pepsi. Though, she occasionally had to redraw some of the map due to paw prints staining the papers, while also making room for her several joke books and fire extinguishers.
One could tell when they were straying closer to Foundation camps by the site of D-Class in hard helmets with lunch boxes by their sides. Construction, restoration and cleaning were the most meaningful tasks D-Class could do. They also greeted the Site Director as she walked by.
“…What’s going to happen to you?”
The crunching of snow stopped and the Director turned to her agent.
“You’re concerned?” She asked.
“I can’t help but feel a little worried, Director, yes.”
“Biringan will continue without me, I can assure you.”
“It’s not that, Director.”
“Then spit it out. You’ve been stiff as a brick all night.”
“I …Where will you go once you’ve been amnesticised?”
Niyebe took a deep breath, steam flowing from her mouth as she sat down on a piece of broken wall.
“You’ve been briefed about it haven’t you?” She asked.
“Of course, but I just… want to hear it from you.”
Her head fell gently downwards. Eyes fixed firmly on her footprints, which she knows shall be covered over by the morning.
“I’ll be going home. Back to my old job, I presume. Though if I suddenly start solving alchemic equations I’ll probably think something is off. I should stay away from those Jason Borne and Total Recall books for a while.”
Site Director Niyebe laughed, but Agent Yurikov slowly turned his head to his own footprints, which were already starting to disappear in the snow.
“You won’t remember us, this place, or the work that you’ve done.”
“It’s not going to disappear when I’m gone, will it?”
“No b-”
“I have nothing to worry about, then. I’m leaving it in the hands of someone highly capable, anyway. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
He’d been dodging the question all night, but now he had no choice but to say it. This could very well be his last chance.
“How…. Do you know I’m right for the role, Director?”
And without hesitation, the Site Director replied with a smile.
“You spent a week preparing for a meeting that might not of even happened, just incase, that’s how I know.”
Yurikov fell silent for a moment, and finally decided to join the Director, sitting by her side on the wall. He had no reply for that.
While the snow fell, the two looked on at the streets that were soon to were soon to come within responsibility of the agent. Once a proud city of the Philippines, now an urban myth in the eyes of the world fed by the Foundation’s prescribed normality.
Having fallen to chaos, Biringan, as well as existence of it’s citizens, was suddenly wiped from public knowledge and history until it was fully, and finally, rebuilt; - ready to eventually be reintroduced into the world’s history. This operation was Director Niyebe’s objective, but her time in service was coming to an end.
Snow blurred the lights of all the old neon signs and street lamps together, creating a technicolored fog amidst the trash that pushed into the corners of the roads and sidewalks. In the summer, seagulls would come in screeching from the skies, and by autumn, most of them would be eaten by the creatures that lurked within the city. Though the Site Director wouldn’t say it out loud, she admitted to herself that she was going to miss all of it.
No matter what she told herself to prepare for the last day, her would still disappear.
So, she looked on one last time, until all her footprints disappeared in the winter’s night.
—-
“I call dibs on the joke books.”
“Come on. That should at least be available to all staff and citizens.”
“But no matter what joke I tell them, they don’t dispense anything.”
“Its cause you’re not funny.” “Hey! I’m plenty funny!”
“The joke books are for everyone’s usage, end of story.”
“Okay. Okay. Fine. Then what are we doing with the cat?”
Two agents looked down at a scruffy five-legged cat. Half it’s whiskers were missing and the few that were left resembled broken pipe cleaners. It was easy to find around the city due to it’s paws leaving soot behind wherever it went. If someone wanted to get it’s attention it was difficult to tell who it was looking at, as both it’s eyes always looked in opposite directions to one another.
Not wanting to risk a potential future fire hazard, the two agents went to the Director’s Office.
“Director Yurikov?”
Yurikov lay back quietly in a dark leather office chair with his head rest on his fist. He sat facing a desk illuminated by a single lamp that stood just across the room from him; - filled to the brim with books, files and photographs. While on the other arm of the chair was a glass of gin and tonic.
Without turning to the door, the Director said. “Have the arcane licences been printed yet?”
“No, sir. It’s about the cat.”
“Keep her outside. If anything catches fire you’re emptying her litter tray for a month. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
The agent promptly shut the door.
Still staring at the desk, Yurikov took a sip of his drink. His eyes followed the mass of files containing staff and citizen IDs, down to the former director’s maps and family photos.
Director Yurikov’s desk was almost barren, save for the computer and cup full of pens.
Winter had passed and spring arrived shortly after. Streets were now cleared for the new year, and yet it felt like nothing had changed. This was a feeling Yurikov hated. He’d expected something in him to of emerged during his time as Site Director, something that would straighten him out and make him a confident leader. But that thing never came, and probably never will.
He sat looking at the desk, still wondering why he’s the one in the chair; the congratulatory letter from the O5 Council still sitting half-opened on his desk. But these anxieties got cut short from his mind as soon as he smelt something burning.
Director Yurikov sighed, activated the alarm and grabbed a fire extinguisher.
“Director Yurikov! The cat!”
“I know! I know!” He shouted as he came running out of the office
The dim office lay silent while a photo of Former Director Niyebe looked on at Yurikov’s desk; - a photo she no longer remembers having been taken.
