“Now serving D-122” the voice called out, tinny and hard to make out over the background murmur. Ben stared at his ticket, P-15, then looked at the clock and grimaced. 11:48. It was slow enough already. What’s going to happen when lunch hits? He looked over at the fellow next to him, a swarthy fellow who looked like he could have just stepped in the door from felling trees. “So, what’re you in for?” The fellow smiled behind a thick beard. “Brewing license renewal. You?” “Development permit.” “Good luck with that. My brother tried to do one of those. The environmental impact studies ended up sinking the project.” Ben gave a tight smile. “We got through those already, thank god. Now there’s some other problem, but I’m still not quite sure what.” “Now serving B-37.” The man with the brewing license stood up. “That’s me. Good luck.” “Same to you.” 11:55 “Hello sir, how may I assist you today?” The woman’s name tag read ‘Janet’ and she smiled at him politely, but her face was lined and the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Good morning, Janet, I’m Ben Miller and I was hoping you could help me finish my development permit. I’ve filled it out as best I can, but it was rejected when I initially submitted it.” “Could you please give me the application number?” “17DS0903.” “Thank you sir,” she said, tapping away at her keyboard. “Our records show that the package failed the initial compliance check. You’ll need to fill in a form STD 327-P before we can begin to review your application. “I remember that one. 327-P is for a utility interconnect easement review, right?” She nodded. “You see, I’m an off-grid solar retailer - I’m competing with the power company. I don’t need their service, and they’re not exactly in a hurry to help me either. So without any utilities, there’s no point in that form.” “It sounds like you’ll need a waiver, then. Call the consumer affairs bureau. They can escalate your request to the utility, and then if the utility doesn’t respond to that in thirty days, then you can get an administrative decision.” He tapped his fingers on the chair, thinking furiously. Thirty days will hurt, but I can probably make that work. “Another month? Can you at least look at the rest of it before then, so I can make sure I have everything else right?” “I’m sorry, sir, but those are the rules - I can’t help you further until you get the waiver.” “I see. Thank you for your help,” he said, tightly, getting up. She flipped the sign over to closed as he rose, and he was unsurprised when a glance at the clock showed 12:02. Ben tried not to scowl as he left the building, though he was fairly sure that his expression had attracted the scrutiny of the security guard. Outside, he took a deep breath and tried to center himself. I’m not going to figure this out on an empty stomach, he thought, looking around. It took him a few minutes to find a place, but soon Ben was at a small cafe with a latte in hand and a little plastic number for his sandwich. He headed over to some tables in a nearby courtyard, which was a little ways off, but seemed quieter. There was only one other person in the courtyard, a woman who never looked up from her fashion magazine. Ben settled down at a table and sipped at his coffee while waiting for the food to arrive. If I can just sort out this damn permit, he thought, staring at the folder. Then I can finally get things rolling. He frowned as a cart rattled closer and the table wobbled, then he looked up at a distant crash. His eyes widened. That’s not my table. That’s an earthquake! He barely had the presence of mind to grab the documents before dashing for the nearest doorway. He was halfway there when something grabbed his arm and yanked him to the side. A split second glance showed that the woman had latched onto his wrist, her hair flying as she pulled with both hands. He’d started to instinctively pull back when there was a massive crash behind him, and the noise shocked them both into stillness. Over the next few seconds the rumble of the ground faded and the building stopped creaking, though he still fancied that he could feel the ground rolling beneath his feet sometimes. The woman finally released her white knuckled grip of his arm. “Sorry about that - I saw the ceiling starting to come down, and there was no time to say anything.” “That's all right,” he said, extending his hand automatically.” Ben Miller. You okay?” “I'm fine, thank you,” she replied, giving it a brief shake. “Janet White.” She seemed familiar, and Ben paused for just a moment before recognition clicked. “Janet with the planning commission?” She looked at him in confusion. “Yes, actually. Do I know you? “Uh, Ben Miller? You were helping me just a little bit ago with my development application.” Her cheeks colored. “Oh, Umm, sorry. I'm not very good with names.” “That’s fine. Nice to meet you again, then.” “Um, yes. You, too.” “That earthquake was crazy. I've never experienced something like that before.” Janet nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been in a couple before, but nothing nearly that bad.” Ben moved away, picking his way across the room. The lights were out, but a hole in the ceiling let in the sun and the wail of distant sirens. “The door’s jammed.” “I don’t see any other exits.” “I don’t either, and I don’t want to go through a wall.” Janet shook her head. “That’d be foolish,” she said, picking up her phone. “You might bring down more of the roof.” “We’re stuck here for now, then. Any luck getting through?” “The line’s busy,” she said after a moment, putting down the phone. “I’ve texted emergency services, but who knows how long it’ll take for them to get to us.” “Best to be patient and keep trying, then,” Ben said, picking up his own phone. Janet nodded, then flushed when her stomach growled. “Pity lunch didn’t arrive first.” “Yeah. I’ve got some granola bars, though,” he said, replacing his phone and reaching for his bag. “Would you like one?” “Thanks,” she replied, pulling up her smartphone as soon as he handed the bar over. He recognized the app. “You’re logging your food at a time like this?” She colored at his words, but didn’t stop. “Well, why not? The calories don’t know the difference.” There were a few moments of silence as they ate. The distant babble of voices filtered in from outside, but none came close by. “You worked on my application earlier,” he said, gesturing to the folder. “Couldn’t you take another look at it? It’s not like we’re going anywhere.” She looked at him like he'd grown a second head. “We’re trapped in a damaged building, and you’re still worried about your application?” “That application is vital. I’m trying to help clean up the planet, but until I get the green light, I’m dead in the water. She bit her lip. “Look, I understand it’s important to you-” “It's not about me!” he said, rising to his feet and gesticulating. “Global warming will affect everyone.” “Okay, okay, I get it,” she said, waving him down. “Calm down already.” “Sorry,” he said, taking his seat. “I just don’t understand, though. You seem nice enough. I mean, you just risked your life to help me, for crying out loud.” “Of course I came to help you. The situations aren’t comparable. You see someone in danger, you try to help them. It’s human nature.” “Then why not now, or earlier? Global warming is a huge problem! Checking over an application is a hundred times easier and no risk to you at all. Why not be a hero?” A bark of laughter escaped her. “A hero? In the bureaucracy? No, I didn’t do it to be a hero. A hero requires a screwup. The system’s designed to make sure that there aren’t any heroes.” “Well, it doesn’t seem to be working now. No one gives a damn.” “Look, it’s not we don’t care or that your venture doesn’t matter. We have to follow the rules, though - read everything close enough to spot mistakes, but at the same time, keep our distance and not pick favorites. They all kind of blend together after a while. And who wants to spend their life shuffling papers around, anyhow?” She paused for a few moments, and then sighed. “I take that back. There are a few folks that like it. And yeah, it feels good to hand one over when it's finished. But it takes so damn much work to get to that point.” “I thought government jobs were supposed to be cushy.” he said, regretting the words even as he said them. “They are, and they aren’t. I am grateful for the union, and sure, there’s a pension. But who wants a pension when you can have early retirement? I didn’t start out with the government, you know. I was young, good looking. White and well educated, too - I have a finance degree. I worked several years in the industry, and was even posted to the London branch.” “So what happened, then?” She shrugged. “Then it fizzled. I did my job, but it never really clicked. The promotions didn’t come. After another couple of years I was back stateside treading water, and then got laid off.” “The glass ceiling.” Janet’s look was sour. “That was definitely part of it. But there were other women who climbed a lot further, and looking back at it, I had my shots. Good ones, too. Of course I didn’t really realize them at the time. The ones that did climb, though, they worked all hours. It was their life. They’d read industry books for fun, or at least made it look like it.” “Sounds like you’re better off outside of that.” “Maybe. But it’s galling to see what I could’ve had. I don’t really have a choice in it anymore though, do I? I’m a bureaucrat. How do you think that looks on a resume?” “How do you want it to look? If you’ve got those skills and that past experience, you should be able to spin it somehow. Take another stab at it, or study and do something new. Folks reinvent themselves all the time.” She shook her head. “Don’t make all your plans off of success stories - they don’t show you the whole picture. Sure, if you throw yourself into something you can accomplish incredible things. I’m not saying it can’t happen, but in my experience, it doesn’t work that way. We’re not robots, and you’re being naive if you think that you can just flip a switch and go all out on something.” “It sounds like you just haven’t found the right thing to be passionate about.” “There’s plenty of things I’m passionate about, it’s just that none of them actually make any money. And just going all in on something and hoping it’ll work out won’t cut it. Passion matters, but you’re forgetting just how much luck and everything else factors into success. Now, maybe at your age, you can afford to damn the torpedoes and throw yourself into something, but as you get older, you’ll find that only have so much time and energy left. When I’ve got a finite number of chances, how do I know which one to throw myself at?” “There’s no guarantee of success. But it shouldn’t stop you from trying.” He patted the folder. “This one is mine.” She sighed. “Well, maybe you’re one of the ones that everything will align for. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.” She held out her hand. “Fine. I can’t process it until you get the waver, but I can take a look at the rest of it.” “That’s all I can ask.”