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R.A.H.N.E.E. looked over my shoulder as I hit Mr. D up for some data over a secure channel. Can you ping me the location for the mansion's error logs? We haven't peeped anything ransacked or whatnot.
A machine and directory path came up in response. Then: You should have access to it already.
Thanks! and any file repository?
Another databit appeared. There ya go. Holler if you need anything else. Sorry I can't be there to help out.
You got it, no worries. Thanks again! I popped a terminal window and tailed the error logs. A few random bits here and there, but a good chunk of what came up had the same origin. I made a consternated noise.
R.A.H.N.E.E. peered closer. "Find something?"
"Huh. Most of the errors being thrown are coming from the kitchen. You said you checked there?"
She nodded. "I did. It is possible that the automated clean-up crew got there before I did."
We walked back to the kitchen. It was a sprawling room, with a couple of islands for food preparation, racks of copper pots and cookware hanging above. Black and white tiling above the counters and floor gave it a slightly retro feel. You got to love a kitchen classier than you are. "You think someone snagged some silverware or something?" I asked.
R.A.H.N.E.E. cocked her head at me. "You would think someone would notice and say something. We are not trailing after dishonest people."
I nodded. "I know, that's been on my mind too." I started going through the cabinets, but nothing seemed out of place there, either. This whole situation was feeling more and more off. I checked the repository for the kitchen on my forearm comp, reading through files and... hello. I walked over to the fridge and looked inside.
My cell rang. The ID tagged it as just the man I wanted to talk to. "Hey there, Jah-shoo," came D-Haze's cantor. "How's the shack?"
"Funny you should ask," I said as I looked through the shelves. "You keep dessert here?"
"Yeah, you remember what Jen made for Thanksgiving?"
"The gingerbread trifle? Hell yeah, I remember."
"She made three of those for all of us, kind of an impetus for us to get together there soon."
I put the phone down and looked back over my shoulder at R.A.H.N.E.E. "He checked dessert into the repository."
She looked back at me from counting pots. "So... they would be made a permanent part of the mansion--"
"And calculated into the total mass of the place--"
"So if something happened to them--"
I put my phone back to my ear. "Your snacks are gone, man."
In the story The Mansion's Missing Mass.
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