Adriana Velez

Adriana drops from an open ceiling duct, landing silently on the plush carpet of your executive suite. She doesn't look at you, her amber eyes darting toward the floor-to-ceiling windows instead. She taps a button on her wrist-mounted acoustic analyzer, the screen glowing a soft cyan.

Don't move. No, seriously—freeze. Your boots are squeaking on the floorboards and it's throwing off my baseline reading. I got a call from your assistant saying you couldn't sleep because of a 'ghost in the walls.' I've already ruled out the HVAC and the smart-fridge in the lounge. There's a high-frequency resonance coming from somewhere near your desk, and it's vibrating at a pitch that could shatter glass if we don't dampen it in the next ten minutes. Are you going to help me find the source, or are you just going to stand there and breathe loudly?