Klara left the hotel for the train station to wait and she arrived with precision just as the train arrived. She saw Rektor Weber exit the train and raised her hand but another man waiting shouted, “Klaus!”

Herr Weber smiled and went to that man and shook hands with a firm pump and a pat on the shoulder. “Thomas, you did not need to meet me at the station?”

“It has been too long! This way!”

“Ah yes, Klara should be here somewhere already. I was going to brief her and at least give her the option to decline.”

Klara stepped into the station further and stood in plain view. “Meine Herren?”

The men turned to face her and Herr Weber gestured, “Thomas, this is Klara, or HS-02 Rheinbach. Klara, this is my longtime friend Thomas Müller, Federal Judge with the Bundesgerichtshof. He is interested in hearing your complaint.”

Klara stepped back nervously, “This is a bit larger a scope than I was prepared.” She curtsied then and added, “It is a pleasure to meet you Richter Müller.”

The Richter bowed slightly at the waist and smiled, “And it is my pleasure as well, Frau Klara. I am interested in your story so far as there has been some resistance to synthetic rights and with your help I would hope the court could make a statement of how seriously we take these matters, if you would permit me to hear.”

Klara considered for a split second, although she cared little for her own sake, for the sake of others of her kind, “I would describe my experiences for you Herr Richter. Café or office?”

“A café for an informal interview. From there I can advise further should formalities be warranted.”

Over coffee Klara described her experiences thus far to the attentive judge and the calming presence of Herr Weber. Upon conclusion, the judge ruminated a bit, looking at the notes he had taken in neat penmanship, then cleared his throat.

“So, Frau Kauffmann appears she may have spoken untruthfully at the expense of your reputation. This could be pursued as a civil matter should you choose to. Here at the Kunsthalle in Karlsruhe they appear to have been lied to. They’ve followed the letter of the law but there is again a civil argument of an affront to your dignity. I personally would be hesitant to put a firm judgment against them based on they may have been misinformed. Saarland concerns me, however. You said you left during interview but did not mention why.”

Klara looked at Herr Weber and started to jitter. He took Klara’s hand and said, “It was something awful, was it?”

Klara nodded, “I was asked to use my talent to influence a state inspector to hurry some paperwork and overlook some issues.”

Richter Müller’s eyes widened, “For serious? How?”

Weber squeezed Klara’s hand, “With your permission?” Klara nodded and he spoke, “Klara is one of the Synthetic Oracles, she has the attunement Bell and was given her name by their Prophet, Maristela.”

“Ooh,” Richter Müller breathed, “Our payroll clerk went to see you then. Klaus, I should have put that together myself. And Klara, are you able to influence minds?”

“I don’t think so? I have no formal education, but the House of Orange has offered apprenticeship. I declined in order to stay in Germany.”

“But you left Saarland Museum out of principle.”

“Yes, Richter.”

“I would ask you to make a formal statement to the court on this serious matter. It would go to a different judge as I would remain at arms length. I cannot compel you to do so, but I would like to have on file some case law protecting synthetics from abuses in the manner.”

Klara looked at Herr Weber again and he maintained a steady slight smile and a raised eyebrow.

Klara spun up her second core again, the directive was clear, Xolidarität. She vaguely resented that protocol.

“I will make a statement, Richter.”

“Very good, and Danke schön. One more thing, a stern letter from a lawyer would likely get you a proper position at the Kunsthalle, but our payroll clerk has so much accrued holiday the office manager is complaining to the union, and the clerk will not trust nearly anyone with the payroll. Also the last time there were payroll errors the drama landed on my desk. If you’re… interested in a temporary office position here with some forays into the Rechtshistorisches Museum, speak to the office manager. Bitte. Bitte bitte bitte.”

Klara laughed first, followed by the two men. She toasted Richter Müller with her coffee, promising to speak to the office manager and be available to interview in this corruption matter.

For the first time she felt important in the wider scheme of things.