The smell of fresh paint lingered in the executive corridor.
Plastic sheets covered portions of the walls while electricians worked near an exposed ceiling panel. A ladder stood abandoned beside a stack of replacement light fixtures. Somewhere farther down the hall, a power drill whined briefly before falling silent.
Artemis was still damaged.
It just no longer looked wounded.
It looked busy with construction workers rushing to meet deadlines before Artemis opens its doors again.
Seven days had passed since the city nearly came apart.
Seven days since evacuation centers.
Seven days since handwritten registrations and dead elevators and people sleeping on gymnasium floors.
Now recovery crews occupied half the building.
Galathea stepped around a box of electrical supplies while carrying a clipboard toward the executive offices.
People were too busy rebuilding their lives.
