AEP04
DINER RECEIPT
RECEIPT NUMBER: AEP04
RECEIPT DATE: 11 17 1988
MANAGER TITLE: BALTIMORE
RECEIPT NOTES:
Marcus Douglas. An elegant man who makes the impossible feel like a minor inconvenience rather than a miracle. He reminds me of a friend I made once. Regardless, there’s something… unnerving about watching him work. It’s as if his mind is always elsewhere, scratching equations into the margins of existence like someone negotiating terms with gravity itself.
The other day, he turned a napkin into what I can only describe as a map of probabilities. He left it on the counter without so much as a second glance, as if it didn’t contain the blueprints for a better, worse, or entirely reimagined coffee trade. Naturally, I kept it. I assume he wouldn’t have left it behind if he didn’t want me to have it—or at least suspect that I might take it.
Here’s the thing about Marcus: I can’t decide if he’s a gift, a weapon, or a ticking bomb. Maybe he’s all three. He’s useful, that much is clear. Too useful for me to dismiss him outright, but too dangerous for me to embrace without caution. I want Eight to get a better read on him. Eight’s vision—it’s sharper than mine, particularly when it comes to people. He has an uncanny knack for seeing who fits the Cafe, the coffee trade, and the wider Sphere of our influence.
When Eight looked at Marcus though, he just smiled. That smile—knowing and infuriating—told me he sees something I don’t. Something he can’t—or won’t—articulate. All he’s said is that Marcus is exactly as he seems and that, somehow, he resembles the Cafe itself perfectly. Not its future, not its past, but its present.
For now, I’ve chosen to keep my—our—distance. Careful, measured distance. Let him think he’s operating on his own. If I eventually see what Eight sees—if Marcus truly does embody something essential to this moment—perhaps I’ll reconsider. Maybe then I’ll hire him.