The espresso machine at Heavenly Brews wasn't just "whistling." To the untrained ear, it was a malfunctioning boiler. To me, it was playing the opening notes of the Sky-Shattering Overture.
I walked into the shop at 6:00 AM to find Xiao Tang staring at the silver machine with genuine terror. Every time he tried to pull a shot, the steam wand emitted a pitch-perfect C-sharp that resonated with the teeth of everyone in a two-block radius.
"Chen man, I think the machine is haunted," Tang whispered, ducking as a burst of golden-tinted steam hissed from the group head. "I called the repair guy, but he said he doesn't work on 'musical appliances.'"
"It's not haunted, Tang," I said, stepping behind the counter. "It's just... out of tune."
I placed my hand on the metal casing. Beneath the vibrations of the heater, I felt the rhythmic pulse of the Wind-Pipe Anchor buried twelve feet below the floorboards. One of my agents had been too aggressive with the calibration. The Silo was venting, and it was using the Starbucks-equivalent of a sacred relic to do it.
"Chen Feng. You're early."
The chime of the door signaled the arrival of the one person I didn't want to see near a leaking ley line. Mei Lin was dressed in a sharp white trench coat today, her "Archive" senses clearly dialed to eleven. She didn't order. She walked straight to the counter and sniffed the air.
"The humidity in here has a 'Primordial' scent today," she said, leaning over the counter, her eyes fixed on the whistling machine. "Tell me, Mr. Chen, does your latte come with a side of pre-Ebb atmospheric pressure?"
"It's a new roast," I said, trying to subtly channel a dampening field into the boiler.
"Very bright. Acidic."
"It's leaking, isn't it?" she whispered, her voice cutting through the steam. "The Silo beneath this block. The pressure is uneven. If it blows, this entire street becomes a permanent cloud kingdom."
Before I could play dumb, the sound of a discordant fiddle drifted in from the street.
I looked out the window. Standing on the sidewalk was a man who looked like he'd been dragged through a hedge and then through the 1970s. He wore a tattered brocade vest over a stained t-shirt, and he was playing a two-stringed erhu with a frenzy that was causing the pigeons to faint.
This was Old Man He.
In the Era of the Radiant Peak, he was the Grand Orchestrator of the Nine Heavens. He used to conduct the literal music of the spheres. Now, he played for spare change and half-eaten sandwiches outside a 7-Eleven.
His music wasn't just noise; it was a counter-frequency. As he scraped the bow across the strings, the espresso machine's whistle began to flatten. He was manual-tuning the leak.
"Another one," Mei Lin muttered, looking at the street performer. "The city is crawling with you fossils. Tell me, Sovereign, is the 'Chairman' paying him in coins or in memories?"
I stiffened. She knew about the Chairman. Or at least, she knew the title existed.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, finally forcing the espresso machine to a silent simmer. "But if you want a coffee, buy one. Otherwise, the 'fossil' behind the counter has work to do."
Mei Lin leaned in close, her sunglasses sliding down her nose to reveal eyes that glowed with an artificial, silver light—Bureau-tech. "The Archive isn't your enemy, Chen Feng. But Yue Qin is already moving her pieces. She doesn't want to harvest the energy anymore; she wants to burn the silos to reset the cycle. Your 'Reverse-Flow' plan is suicide. You'll turn every mortal in this city into a charcoal briquette."
She straightened her coat and turned to leave. At the door, she paused. "By the way, tell Old Man He his G-string is flat. It's making the manhole covers rattle."
She disappeared into the morning fog.
I looked at Old Man He. He stopped playing, wiped his nose with his sleeve, and gave me a subtle, two-fingered salute. The "Grand Orchestrator" wasn't just busking. He was my Sector 7 Lookout.
"Tang," I said, untying my apron. "Take the morning shift. I need to go talk to a guy about a fiddle."
"Sure thing, Chen," Tang said, still dazed.
"Hey, did that lady's eyes just... glow? Is that a new contact lens thing?"
"It's just the lighting, Tang," I said, stepping out into the cold air. "Everything in this city is just a trick of the light."