Stars are shining, on a bright night
A hero is rising, guided by light
Fire, glorious fire,
Burning within his heart

Chrileon's high-pitched voice blared through the headphones, the sound so loud Mum would have complained, had she been around. But she wasn't. She was three hundred and forty-five miles away in the last jewellery store of St. Edmund-By-Sea.

Tobias hummed, hitting every note perfectly as he slid his bank card into the vending machine's slot. He pressed the red 'Coca Cola' button. All the soda he wanted—another reason why this tester job at Pia Industries had been the best thing that had happened to him.

Six weeks. Thirty workdays. Two hundred and nineteen hours and five minutes. And not a single eye-roll, grumble, or sigh of desperation from his colleagues. He didn't need the HUIMI Amazfit A1609 on his wrist to know that was a record.

He crouched down. His lighter pushed against his leg, urging him to go outside for his traditional smoke and sugar break. After that, just five more test cases and then the two-mile walk back to the apartment to tinker with Grandpa's old grandfather clock.

He reached into the take-out part: empty. There was no red light nor error message on the display.

Frowning, he pressed the 'Coca Cola' button again.

Nothing.

A growl formed in the back of his throat. He had no time for this. His hand was ready to strike at the vending machine when a hairy arm wearing a Holzkern Palancar Zebrawood flashed before him.

The owner's voice overpowered his music. "The light is broken, but we ran out of Coca Cola. You'll have to drink Diet or Zero."

"I can't." Tobias took his headphones off—polite behaviour according to his otherwise useless therapist. "The cigarette tastes differently with Zero, and I'm not on a diet. It has to be the regular one."

"Does it?"

"Yes," Tobias answered, unsure if that had really been a question or one of those rhetorical questions that weren't actual questions.

"Ask Ms Jensen. She has the key to the cafeteria."

With large strides, he marched through the corridor, careful to step on the white tiles only. The black tiles made a weird squeak that threw him off.

The grey tinted glass door to Ms Jensen's office was a chink open. But other than the silver and gold bracelet of her 2636081 Rodania (Essential Darwin edition) sliding over the wooden surface of her desk, there was a male voice. Tobias reached into his pocket and fidgeted with his lighter—a comfort for unexpected moments.

"... discontinued. Without the grant, we have to cut the program."

Tobias halted. The man sitting across Ms Jensen was RM 67-01. His real name was lost to Tobias, but he all he ever did was talk about money.

Ms Jensen turned her €119,95 watch around her wrist. "So this means..."

"We have to let Tobias go," RM 67-01 said.

Tobias froze. Go where? Back to his desk? To his apartment? To St. Edmund-By-Sea?

Ms Jensen let out a sigh, laughing like she had heard a funny joke. "Secretly, I'm relieved to stop this facade. Sure, the grant covered more than his expenses, and his work was mediocre to adequate. But he doesn't belong here—Karen said he keeps running from meetings."

"He does. Kid has no manners."

Tobias flipped the lid of his lighter open. How—why? His co-workers had always smiled when he said he had to leave a meeting at 11.50 because he always ate lunch at 12.00 sharp and couldn't eat without having a five-minute cigarette break first.

"So I'll..." As Ms Jensen turned to her screen, she glanced up. Her eyes met Tobias'. Even though he looked away instantly, her gasp was loud and clear. "Tobias, is that... did you...?"

"I wanted a coke... a regular one." His finger brushed over the tiny wheel. A spark spluttered in his pocket. "Gotta go."

Putting his headphones back on, he dashed off, the lighter still in his hands. He was fired. Fired.

Storms are coming, from the mountain
Casting a shadow, on fate of men

Dad would be disappointed for the millionth time. And Mum would cry as Grandpa muttered that the world wasn't waiting for someone like him. All he had wanted was to be accepted, to be liked. For once to even have a friend.

"Tobias!" Ms Jensen shouted so loudly it drowned out Chrileon's melody.

Deaf to her excuses or more lies, he flapped his arms around. He needed his coke and his cigarette, and then finish work, and then walk two miles to his apartment and tinker with Grandpa's clock. Then all would be well.

He raised his sword in furious anger,
A strike of lightning struck at his side

Her hand landed on his shoulder. "Tobias, please."

"Don't touch me."

"I want to explain."

"You can't."

"Let me."

Tobias turned around with such force, his headphones slid off and landed on a black tile. The noise startled him, and he ignited the lighter in his hands.

"Tobias, what are you doing?" She raised her hand, her Rodania sliding down. "We can talk about this."

"Fire hurts—it burns," Tobias muttered. "Getting fired hurts too. It burns here." He touched his chest. "You were all so nice to me—why?"

"We thought we could make it work. You came from so far, and then you with your condition."

"My autism isn't a condition," he repeated words Therapist Number Four (No watch, only used phone) had once told him. "It's who I am."

"And you're not a good fit for the company. I'm sorry." Ms Jensen said. "Can you lower the flame?"

Fit? Tobias shook his head, confused. "I need a coke—a regular one."

"Yes, I can arrange that for you."

He put the lighter back into his pocket. "I also need to smoke first."

"Sure. I'll put a coke ready for you in my office." She smiled at him. "Are we good now?"

Tobias shrugged. His attention shifted to his headphones, he knew the lyrics so well he could sing along.

Tales of ancient prophecies
Came true and left again
History was carved anew
And lit the hope of men,
And the knights of twilight's might will rise again

A smoke, a coke, and then all would be well.