Section 2: The District Sanitation Office

“…Thanks, Uncle Sergio.”

When Aria said that, Sergio let out a small laugh through his nose without taking his eyes off the road.

“I’ve got most of this city mapped out in my head. Beating a car nav at finding the optimal route? Easy.”

A small Virgin Mary charm swayed from the dashboard.

It made a faint sound in time with the vibrations of the traffic light stop.

Aria let out a small breath and worked her phone.

The electronic chime confirming the transfer overlapped with the static from the radio.

“I added a little extra.”

Sergio glanced at the screen and nodded with satisfaction.

“Heh. Always appreciated.”

Then his voice softened, just slightly, as it always did.

“You can call on me anytime, you hear? See you around, mi niña.”

“Yeah. See you.”

The moment the door closed, the taxi pulled quietly away.

Aria watched its back disappear, then turned her gaze toward the building once more.

The Environmental Bureau branch office stood in a place that drew no attention within the city.

The sign was small, and the exterior had nothing especially distinctive about it.

There was no reason for people to gather there, and no reason to avoid it either.

It looked like a building designed around the assumption that only people with business there would come, finish what they needed to do, and leave.

It had been two years since the collection system had fully transitioned to AI operation.

The number of complaints had dropped to less than half of what it had been before the transition.

And yet, this felt different.

She would not get answers here today.

Probably.

But confirming the shape of an answer that refused to appear — that would become the next move.

When she stepped in front of the automatic doors, the response came slightly late.

After a brief pause, they opened with a soft push of air.

Inside, it was quiet.

The lobby was neither large nor small.

A metal reception counter.

Three people sat behind it.

One was speaking Spanish on the phone.

Another was pushing a deli lunch bag to the side of the desk while typing at a keyboard.

Only the third looked up.

Several notices overlapped across the wall.

NOTICE OF POLICY UPDATE.

HOURS OF OPERATION.

Some were duplicated in Spanish, their corners curling.

The cellophane tape had yellowed with age.

None of them were words directed at anyone special.

Aria approached the counter and gave her name.

“Lockhart. I had an appointment.”

The receptionist checked her terminal, then nodded.

“We’ve confirmed it. I’ll guide you upstairs.”

Her voice was polite and free of unnecessary emotion.

No one sat in the waiting chairs.

No raised voices.

No irritation.

Only the ticking of the clock’s second hand sounded strangely loud.

There was only one elevator, and its doors were already open, waiting.

On the second floor, the air changed slightly.

Office spaces divided by partitions.

The ringing of phones.

The sound of paper turning.

Everyone looked busy.

Yet no idle conversation could be heard.

Inside the small meeting room she was guided to, a man was already seated.

The sound of a chair shifting.

He stood and gave a slight bow.

“Ms. Lockhart? Eric Coleman. Thank you for coming all the way here.”

His voice was low, his intonation restrained.

“Lockhart.”

The handshake was brief.

His hand was slightly cold.

Once they sat down, Eric glanced toward the coffee maker at the edge of the table.

“Please, have some coffee. It’s not very good, though.”

“Thank you.”

Aria accepted it.

She did not have to drink it.

But sometimes it was better not to refuse.

Eric pulled his mug closer.

White ceramic.

A thin crack along the rim.

The logo had almost faded away.

Despite being heavily used, it showed signs of having been treated carefully.

Aria looked at it for exactly one second.

Eric took out his phone.

Before touching the screen, his fingertips hesitated for an instant.

Then he operated it quietly.

Aria’s phone vibrated once.

Displayed on the screen were his full name, title, and department.

Beneath them was a small fish icon.

Aria memorized it unconsciously.

He reached for the documents in front of him and lowered his gaze, though not as if he were truly checking anything.

“This is regarding the matter you informed us about beforehand.”

“Yes. The case where garbage wasn’t collected even though it was collection day.”

“Yes.”

Neither agreement nor denial.

“At present, within the scope we’ve been able to confirm… the system is functioning normally.”

Aria picked up her pen and wrote down a single line of notes.

Then she looked up.

“Just to confirm — the suspension of collection this time wasn’t something decided by the sanitation workers on site, correct?”

His gaze lowered toward the papers.

“No. It was not manually halted by field personnel.”

When answering, Eric did not actually look at the documents.

He merely pointed his gaze toward them without confirming anything.

Aria stored that habit away in the corner of her mind.

“So there’s no possibility of human error? Or a missed collection?”

“There isn’t.”

The answer came back almost on top of her question.

Aria wrote down the speed of that response exactly as it was.

“Thank you.”

Without stopping her pen, she moved to the next question.

“I looked through several 311 complaints, and it seemed like responses differed slightly between districts, even on the same collection day. Are the criteria standardized citywide?”

“…Not completely identical.”

“Depending on the district?”

“Yes. Operational optimizations have been implemented.”

Optimization.

Aria repeated the word once in her mind.

“Is there any way to confirm those district-level discrepancies through actual data? Which district, when, and what decisions were made?”

Eric’s hand stopped on top of the documents.

One second.

Two.

“…That is outside the scope of my authority.”

“So the information cannot be disclosed?”

“It cannot be handled.”

The wording remained polite.

But it was a wall.

For the first time, Eric looked directly at Aria.

Less than a second.

But unmistakably, it was the gaze of someone measuring her.

As her pen moved again, Aria pressed just one step further.

“Has the cause already been identified at this stage?”

Eric did not answer immediately.

He lifted his gaze from the documents and exhaled once.

“We are confirming things with the field as well.”

Then he continued, choosing his words carefully.

“However… the responses coming back are all slightly different.”

Aria stopped writing.

“To be honest, even on my end, we’re not yet at the stage where I can clearly explain what’s happening.”

Their eyes met for a brief instant.

Then the distance returned.

“I apologize for not being able to meet your expectations, but this is as much as I can say from my position.”

The ticking of the second hand sounded strangely loud.

Aria closed her notebook.

“I understand. Thank you for your time today.”

As she stood, the thought came again.

— Not a decision made in the field. — Not the will of the administration.

Then naturally, the conclusion should have been a system issue.

And yet, somehow, it didn’t fit cleanly.

The system was normal.

It wasn’t a field decision.

And still, the outcomes differed by district.

The data could not be shown.

None of the answers were lies on their own.

But once placed side by side, something stopped aligning.

— As if they had been designed not to align from the beginning.

A faint tension entered her fingertips.

Only that discomfort remained.

Somewhere.

Something was deciding.