“That’ll do it. Not anything major, y’see? Mostly just needed a good smack or two; it’s workin’ just fine now.” The woman across the counter beamed in undisguised delight, and Abigail felt a bristle of pride. Repairing a machine was like bringing someone back to life. The whirl and hum of the little contraption was her preferred heartbeat, the flashing lights of a console were the expressions she read best, the chirping alarms were the language of her soul. Or, you know, something a little more grounded and not quite as ridiculously poetic, because maker, she wasn’t going that soft, was she? 

All the same, she smiled at the woman as she hurried out of the store, though the smile became significantly more frozen as a hood obscured the woman’s face. It was the little things, she thought, that bothered her most about the changes that had come around in the past years. A society filled with fear and bordering on intense paranoia, skulking in the shadows of a life that deprived them of so much. Abigail wrinkled her nose in distaste, turning from her more drab thoughts when the coffee pot dinged. 

Minutes later, settled back in front of the sweeping monitor to the right of her desk, she gazed readily at the screen as she sipped at her beverage. How likely would it be that she had any more customers today? Fairly unlikely, she admitted to herself, but something had to buy equipment. No sense in closing up yet; she’d wait just a while longer, and hope for a last minute arrival.