From the floor to the ceiling, the entrance door to the semi-circular desk, everything was in a shade of black and yellow. It created an uncanny sense of sensory oppression upon your eyes and your spatial awareness, and you had a suspicion that clad in your IPC clothes, wholly inadequate number of ribbons and service cap resting on your lap, you were the most vibrant gem in the room.

Shifting again, you smoothed down the sleeves of your clothing and recalled the message you received at your apartment at four that morning, ordering you to attend a meeting with Jade of Credit herself at seven. A quick breakfast, hasty change and blisteringly fast journey via ship later, and you had arrived in her waiting room with fifteen minutes to spare.

For someone who had a few hours to get from one place to another, arriving early was a point of pride.

So why, with the time being seven-twenty-five, were you still waiting?

The impatience wasn’t to last long. The low-ranking IPC member near the door stiffened slightly, their abrupt movement attracting your gaze, and their mask moved every which way as they leaned slightly to the right.

Which meant they were receiving orders through their earpiece. After a few seconds, their body relaxed, and they looked at you with the nonchalance they have had welded onto their mask years ago. “Madam Jade will see you now,” they said tonelessly, and without wasting time they spread their hand over a scanner, prompting the door to open with a soft clunk.

Sliding your cap under your right arm, you stood up and straightened your clothes with a gentle jerk of the bottom hem and walked over to the low-ranking IPC member who was near the door. It slid open with a soft hiss, and with a steadying breath you stepped inside. They led you along a brightly lit corridor that ran adjacent to several rooms, and you initially squinted for the first ten or so seconds while your eyes adjusted to the walls. Why the Strategic Investment Department had chosen this ridiculous colour scheme you didn’t know, but it made your eyes sting from the sudden change in brightness.

As you drew closer to her office, your mind automatically went back to the successful reorganisation of 55 Cancri e, and you felt the heat of accomplishment begin to simmer in your heart. You had gone there with the intention of either reaching a compromise with the inhabitants or profitability on the planet, and returned successful in both. To top it off, your initial inquiry of the location of the Stellaron with Oswaldo Schneider surprisingly went smooth; all you received from that inexperienced higher-up was an explanation that he had allowed Madam Herta to contain it.

In the few seconds it took for you to come back to the present, you suppressed the nervousness as you noticed them holding open for you the door to her office, a mild incline of their head. Muttering a terse thanks, you swept past them and entered the office.

The impossibly reflective black marble floor turned your footsteps into echoing clacks, which bounced off the stone walls and pillars that adorned the left and right sides of the long, high ceiling room. Your eyes rested on the Jade of Credit, who was seated on the high wooden chair seemingly busy swirling her glass of red wine in a clockwise direction, you stopped a few feet to the front of the high ranking lady in her full dress uniform, while you stood impossibly rigid and looked straight ahead.

“Visibility is currency. I simply ensured your talents were placed in the right ledger,” Madam Jade addressed you, swirling the wine glass around again to take a sip behind the desk, and regarded you with studious eyes. She then retrieved a Cornerstone from her right pocket.

The cornerstone was no larger than three centimetres in both width and height, “and while there are some in the department who would call you insubordinate, there are others who call it...taking the initiative. Reorganisation was a success, and Diamond and I believe you deserve to be one of us: Zircon, of ingenuity. P45. Leader of the Reorganisation Team.”