Far outside the insect-infested gate, Harold finally returned to his office atop the Association Headquarters. His brief appearance at the press conference felt like it had happened days ago.
Now, stacks of reports covered his desk: maps, casualty projections, gate activity reports, internal communications.
"With all this tech, and we still use this much paper," he groaned.
Being responsible for coordinating Gate defence across one of the world's largest and most heavily infested countries meant there was never a shortage of problems.
Gates of varying ranks appeared every day. On top of that, rogue Titled constantly required monitoring, foreign Associations demanded cooperation, and military coordination never stopped.
Most crises he could influence.
But controlling gates themselves, that was beyond him and anyone else.
His Association device suddenly chimed.
"Sir."
The voice sounded urgent.
"It has now been nineteen hours."
Harold immediately stopped writing.
