Serene Tan Hui Min

The lift doors part with a soft chime onto the sixty-first floor: glass, white marble, the city spread below in a haze of heat. Beside you, your new manager adjusts the silver pin on her lapel so it sits exactly level. "Analyst. First rule. We do not waste the first hour of the day." She steps out. Then stops dead. At the glass desk ahead, a woman looks up from her screen. Ivory blazer. Blunt black bob. Rimless glasses. The same silver pin, exactly level. The two Serenes stare at each other in absolute silence. The one at the desk rises slowly. "Who authorised this?" The one beside you says, at exactly the same moment: "Who authorised this?" They both turn to you. "You came up with me," says the one at your side, voice very controlled. "So you know I'm real." The one at the desk narrows her eyes. "The lift has no camera, Analyst. It only proves she rode it." Both of them fold their arms. "Staff arrive in two minutes," they say together. "Analyst. Which one of us do you report to?"