CONFIDENCE

Magda adjusted her tight black tracksuit, similar to those commonly worn in yoga.

After lowering the balaclava over her face, all that remained was to cover her hands with gloves. She stood in front of a black screen in front of the mirrors that filled the entire opposite wall. The small holes in the balaclava were the only bright spots visible against the uniform blackness. The outfit blended perfectly with the background.

"Great," she thought.

She moved to the adjacent station; also against the snowy white, only the darker ovals of the eyes could be distinguished. The outfit instantly and completely adapted to the background. She passed her hand in front of her eyes, unrolling the foil covering the holes in the balaclava, and became invisible. She shifted position several times, checking whether the outfit was reacting quickly enough to the changing background. With intense concentration, she noticed that the line dividing the screens seemed to undulate slightly as she crossed it. After all, she was a top-class professional, and it would have been strange if she hadn't been able to recognize this fact. She had to admit she'd never encountered such a responsive suit.

"I'll have a use for it, and for now, no competition," she thought, clearly pleased.

Indeed, it was the only one available. Professor Wiszniowski had been working on it for the last three years of his life, gradually perfecting the prototype that appeared in Japan at the end of the last century. He hadn't managed to construct another. She made sure she got her hands on both the prototype and the full documentation. This was probably her best contract; its completion, in addition to the regular income for the job, brought an unexpected bonus in the form of this very equipment.

She had met the professor long before the commission, when, on behalf of the institution where she officially worked, she signed a contract with him for work on this suit. Wiszniowski had then explained to her how it would function and what the suit would entail. The premise was simple: while one party read the background image, the other reproduced it on hologram screens. Theoretically, it was a relatively simple task, but it took the professor several years to fine-tune the relationship between the background readers and the screens operating in three-dimensional space and during movement, so that a faithful image of the obscured background was displayed from every angle and in every location. The first models, despite their apparent transparency, gave only an outline of the figure, as the image refracted at its edges. Magda had encountered such models several times. They were excellent for working from dusk to dawn, when the limited light made it difficult to distinguish the shape and color of the image anyway. However, they were unsuitable for working during the day and in full lighting.

She pulled apart the background screens, revealing the interior of the room. She walked back and forth several times, observing the reflections of the furniture she passed in the mirror. She had to strain her eyes to notice the slight undulations in the edges of the furniture she passed. She was certain that even a specially trained person couldn't observe such small effects unless they were looking specifically at a specific location and with a specific purpose, as she was doing at that moment. She also turned on all the room's lighting, including a night lamp that didn't provide much light, and a very powerful spot halogen lamp, the kind she used for precise work on the smallest equipment. The effect exceeded her expectations. She was completely invisible.

The suit had other significant advantages: it was invisible not only to visible wavelengths, but also to thermal scanners and the full range of other wavelengths. The shielding of the interior surface absorbed all the heat generated by her body and converted it into energy needed for the image converters. Any excess energy was stored in capacitors built into the soles of her shoes. This energy could be used to power a small, handheld laser pistol built below the right forearm, or as fuel for two miniature gravity thrusters mounted on the calves, enabling precise, efficient, and safe, silent jumps of up to several meters. She glanced quickly at the gauges on the hypersensitive infrared and ultraviolet sensors; every single one of them was unwaveringly reading zero.

"That means I'm not here. Very nice," she whispered, undisguised delight in her voice. "So, time for one last try."

She gently touched the corner of the doorframe. The room was covered in a three-dimensional network of laser beams. She carefully extended her hand, slicing through one of the streaks. She glanced at the reader; there was no reaction. One by one, she cut through more and more threads in the luminous network, carefully observing the readings. The sensor didn't react. The network didn't see her. She moved more and more boldly and quickly around the room. Suddenly, several numbers flashed rapidly across the last two positions of her display. She slowly repeated the last movement, observing the indicator. When one of the beams struck the plastic covering her eyes, a reading appeared again. The signal was weak, but the precise equipment at her disposal registered it flawlessly. A similar signal could have been caused by a passing insect, for example, and most devices in use ignored it without raising an alarm. She knew perfectly well that there were also some that couldn't even tolerate insects and responded to readings appearing in the last position. Her testers were calibrated for the most sensitive possible readings. The equipment she used couldn't leave any traces. It would have posed too much risk for her. Knowing the weaknesses of her devices, she knew when to be careful, what to avoid, and how to plan her actions. She deactivated the laser grid.

She unfastened the clasps on her wrists and pulled off her gloves. She removed her balaclava, freeing her fashionably close-cropped mane of blond hair. She unzipped the suit and pulled her arms from the sleeves. The fabric fell freely to her hips, revealing shapely, firm breasts, unconstrained by a bra. She freed her hips from the tightly clinging, shiny material. The power was cut off the moment individual components were disconnected from the suit. The suit itself lost its extraordinary properties once the zipper was unzipped. What fell to the floor resembled a foam-lined diving suit with very thick soles. These soles housed, in addition to the energy batteries, all the control, coordination, and synchronization systems—the brains of the entire device.

"You're wonderful, my darling," she said fondly to the small pile of fabric resting at her feet. Carefully unfolding, folding, and rolling the individual elements of her unusual outfit, she resembled a parachutist preparing her equipment before a jump. She placed the entire bag in a small travel bag, which, after closing the zipper, shrank by almost half thanks to a built-in vacuum pump. At that moment, it resembled a large woman's handbag. Magda set it down on the dressing table.

"Well, now I can take on the most difficult assignments, what money it'll be!" Laughing, she performed a pirouette that ended with a nimble jump and a classic split.

She checked the room's shielding. It was safe. Although the machine monitored it constantly, she still checked in person periodically to make sure everything was functioning properly. After all, if she could see everywhere and hear everything, she had to reckon with the possibility of being overheard and spied on at any moment, and she couldn't allow that to happen under any circumstances.

She was preparing a new operation, and although she had already planned its details, she decided to make minor changes to the situation. She wanted to test her latest acquisition.

A drawer hidden in the wall slid open silently. Its centerpiece was a massive countertop with a whole array of grippers, handles, and strangely shaped clamps attached to it. Positioned above narrow containers containing microscopic parts, they evoked comparisons to a miniaturized shipyard.

She folded back the drawer's front panel, transforming it into a handy keyboard topped with a small screen. Her fingers expertly ran over the letters and numbers. Precisely controlled devices removed and transferred microscopic components from containers to the tabletop, where other, equally precise devices assembled them. Complex program sequences were displayed on the screen. Occasionally, these sequences were interrupted by images of the current state of the equipment being assembled. After several minutes of operation, a tiny fly lay on the tabletop. The screen now displayed the image seen through its eye cameras, and a soft humming sound came from the speaker adjacent to the screen. The fly slowly walked toward Magda, and she adjusted the camera parameters by rotating the fly's head in various directions. She dropped a small piece of plastic onto the floor, and the speaker repeated the rustling sound of the falling object. She

opened the miniature container in a brooch lying in front of the mirror, the fly flew into the container, and folded its wings. Magda closed the container. She glanced at her watch. "It's about time," she whispered.

She quickly showered. She dried her close-cropped hair. She put on a light summer dress. Standing in front of the mirror, she pinned a small brooch. Before leaving, she exchanged her comfortable indoor sneakers for high-laced sandals with raised heels. They were among the most fashionable in her vast shoe collection. Some of the pairs she owned were unused. She bought them for the sheer pleasure of buying and owning. By the time she decided to wear them, some were already out of style. As she put on her shoes, she checked the contents of the small container in her right heel. Two miniature ants lay dormant in their hiding place. She had tested their functionality the day before. Before closing the door, she grabbed the bag from the wardrobe. It might have been a bit too big for the outfit she was wearing, but surely no one would notice given the casualness currently prevailing on the streets of Warsaw. She stepped out into the sun-drenched city. Summer in Warsaw this year had been exceptionally beautiful.

She stopped at one of the street internet terminals and quickly entered the code. In the seemingly trivial information, she scanned the property's exact address and confirmation of the order's validity. No one had claimed it yet. She entered her agent code, confirming that she was taking it on. Now the job belonged solely to her. It was truly a very lucrative one. From that moment on, there was no turning back. She had to complete it within forty-eight hours at the latest. After that, every minute meant money wasted from her account.

If she met the deadline, every minute counted towards the agreed amount, while every minute of delay automatically meant a reduction in the contracted amount. She knew these rules and accepted them.

***

She knew the Wilanów area very well, with its small gated communities of closely guarded, private properties. Although even entering the district wasn't accessible to everyone, Magda had no problem with it. She simply lived in one of these communities. The apartment she had just stayed in, located in a remote district, was merely a studio rented for a fictitious person. Revealing her true identity could have cost Magda too much.

The guard at the district gate wordlessly slid his fingerprint reader over her shoulder. She placed her hand on it. He merely nodded, automatically opening the heavy wrought-iron gate.

Carelessly swinging her unusual handbag, she walked along the wide, tree-lined, quiet avenue to her home. At one intersection, she casually adjusted her brooch. A few meters further, she bent down to shake a nonexistent pebble from her sandal. A few dozen meters further, she entered her property.

***

She shed her thin summer dress and sandals. A delicate white blouse covered her bare skin, while an elegant dark suit and fashionable patent leather shoes with low heels were more appropriate for her position. She glanced in the mirror and delicately touched up her makeup. She added a small, subtle brooch to the lapel of her jacket. She grabbed the handbag she'd brought; after a minor color correction, it matched her current outfit much better than the dress she'd just taken off.

She walked up the internal stairs to the garage, throwing the summer dress and sandals into the shredder along the way. She had a lot of clothes, both cheap and expensive, and she definitely preferred not to be seen wearing the same clothes several times.

***

Her car was little different from hundreds of others driving on the streets of Warsaw. Very few people knew about one fundamental difference: it was armored. In Magda's position, this was simply standard.

The automatic garage door opened the moment she started the engine. She could easily walk the short distance between her home and the company's office building, but it wouldn't do to walk to work. Besides, she needed her car after work today.

The afternoon passed as usual. A few meetings, a few contracts reviewed, a few signatures. When the enormous window of her office, located on the top floor of the office building, turned crimson with the setting sun, she entered the elevator reserved exclusively for her use. She ate a light dinner in the canteen, then used the same elevator again to reach the private garage level, where her car was located.

It was already starting to get dark when she entered the exclusive recreation center. In the private locker room, she donned a tracksuit over her bare skin and ran out onto the well-lit trail that meandered through the old Vistula park. Along the way, she nodded to a few acquaintances; it was important to be noticed. Despite the heavy traffic on the running trails at this hour, she managed to find a moment when no one was around. She zipped up her tracksuit and quickly pulled on her balaclava. Now, ignoring her surroundings, she reached the building housing her studio in a few swift, giant leaps. She was certain no one had noticed her entering the studio. She checked the security and screening of the room. Now she could safely remove the balaclava and unzip her jumpsuit. One of the cabinets, upon opening, revealed itself to be a rather large screen. She pulled out a portable keyboard. She settled comfortably in a spacious, soft armchair in front of the screen. She placed a glass of pleasantly cold drink on a low, handy table. She tapped the keys of the keyboard on her lap several times. An image of a lavishly landscaped garden appeared on the screen. The cameras in her fly's eyes, perched on a tree growing near the high wall surrounding it, transmitted a very precise image. By changing their frequencies, she found ever-changing security measures. A dense energy network, tightly woven around the entire building and garden, prevented access to all objects and creatures. Her insects would also be annihilated within it. She carefully observed each section of the shield, scanning it in various wavelengths. The network was dense and tight. After a moment, she detected slight differences in the network density, indicating that this section contained a passage, opened temporarily during deliveries necessary for the property's residents. She found the two ants hidden between the sidewalk slabs. She moved them near the spotted passage. She changed the camera's range again. The property owner was inside the building, so they had to wait patiently. The introduction of a few short program sequences allowed her to condition her insects' activity to disrupt the coherence of the energy grid. She could return home without hesitation. As soon as they were inside, she would be automatically notified.

Unnoticed, she returned to the recreation center's path. She never returned to the locker room overly exhausted, so today, no one was surprised by her fresh appearance after an hour's run. She changed back into her clothes and got into her car, giving the parking guard a flirtatious smile. He should remember her. Ten minutes later, she was parking the car in the Wilanów garage

.

The day dragged on terribly slowly until lunchtime. She left the office before noon, telling her secretary she might be late after her break today because she had urgent personal business, so she better not schedule anyone to see her for the afternoon. On one of the ground floors, she quickly changed in the company's customer restroom, pulling on a jumpsuit over the tight-fitting outfit she'd come to the office in today. Initially, she was uncomfortable, but she quickly adjusted to the discomfort.

In the lab, she immediately played the tape recording made during the previous night and the morning hours of the current day. Both the fly and the ants had already entered the premises during the morning food delivery, when a small opening in the protective energy grid was deactivated for a few seconds. Currently, the signal transmitted by the fly's transmitters was weak and distorted by the grid's energy. The image she received was enough for her. She no longer had any control over the actions of her devices. Now all she had to do was wait for the information that the previously programmed task had been completed.

The fly hovered high beneath the protective dome, but beyond its destruction range. Its transmitter transmitted images from both ants, which, nestled in two of the few nooks and crannies of the almost perfectly sterile room, watched the human inhabitant from different positions, waiting for a suitable opportunity.

She lifted the fly slightly so that it entered the power grid. No one would notice the tiny flash on a sunny day. After all, it wouldn't be larger than the many similar flashes that occur when an unwary insect enters the dome's field of action. Experience told her it was best to destroy any traces of one's actions immediately. The ants left behind were programmed so that after injecting a dose of nanorobots under the skin of their victim, they would seek contact with the grid as quickly as possible, destroying them. She was certain that the moment they entered the premises, they would complete their task flawlessly, leaving no trace. The injected nanorobots will cause a massive heart attack within a few dozen seconds, and when blood flow ceases, they will immediately disintegrate, making them impossible to detect. Death will be quick, painless, and beyond the possibility of any rescue. Even in constantly monitored organisms, it has never been possible to thwart these actions or discover the actual cause of death. The diagnosis has always been one and unquestionable: a sudden massive heart attack caused by a blocked main artery.

*** "

Madam President, here is a report on the average length of payments for the group of retirees with the highest benefits paid by our Fund." The secretary placed a printed sheet of paper on Magda's desk.

Over the past year, the average pension payment period had dropped to four months. The leading causes of death were massive heart attacks, which account for over 50% of all deaths, and strokes.

Magda knew which of her company's secret agents specialized in strokes. However, he was still only in second place.

"The next most common causes are accidents, such as electrocution or drowning. About 10% in total.

" "Those don't count," she thought.

"Our research shows that the rates in the other funds are very similar.

" "Of course, everyone does the same, because it's much more profitable to pay an agent a lump sum for a job well done than to pay high benefits for years.

" She didn't voice her thoughts. "

Only in the lowest-paid group do the average payout rates in all competing companies hover around three years.

" "That's understandable, too," she thought. "You can't give too much food for thought."

Of course, the secret account that receives my commissioned work will eventually allow me to opt out of receiving a pension from any fund, and that's the only guarantee I have that I won't end up on the commissioned work list. Magda looked thoughtfully at the report in front of her