Episode 39 - Holding the Broadcast

The station had not paused for Olivia.

But it had softened.

The monitors glowed dimmer. The static was less aggressive. The air smelled faintly of lavender and reels.

It was a waiting kind of day.

Charles spent most of the morning in the server closet, re-negotiating power-sharing agreements with something that only communicated through beep patterns and early-2000s internet memes. He emerged victorious, if slightly pixelated.

“DNS is re-aligned,” he announced. “If your mug starts speaking in clip art, just smile and agree.”

Miss LaDonna was teaching the mail cart to recognize handwriting again.

“Last week it bit Bernard,” she said. “Twice.”

Bernard’s glow pulsed in irritation from the Archive.

“It got me confused with Geoff.”

Everyone agreed that was fair.

Bernard spent the afternoon coiling and recoiling a set of lost documentaries titled “Places That Almost Were.” They whined if left unspooled for too long.

He hummed something wordless, soft and spiraling, a lullaby meant for tape.

When asked if he was worried, he said only:

“She’s close.”

At precisely 2:00 p.m., the hallway clocks reset.

No one had touched them.

Miss LaDonna looked up from her tea.

Charles leaned around the corner.

“Did anyone…?”

“Nope.”

They nodded.

At 3:12, the confetti box on the front desk shuffled slightly. Just one twitch. Like a dog dreaming.

By 3:54, the mug began steaming again.

No one touched it.

And at 4:06, the front door opened.

Softly. Without ceremony. As if it had always been waiting for her to walk back through it.

Olivia stepped inside.

Same boots. Same stride. Same ears twitching slightly at the light.

She looked around.

Everyone paused.

Nobody said anything.

Until Bernard floated up beside her.

“You’re back,” he said, simply.

Olivia smiled.

“I never left,” she said.

Then paused.

“Not really.”

The mug was still warm.

The second cup of tea?

Perfectly steeped.