Author: LondonGal58
Rating: PG
Disclaimers: The characters of Willow Rosenberg, Tara Maclay, Buffy Summers, Xander Harris et al, are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy productions. The setting for the story is within the Bladerunner universe, created by Philip K Dick and later put onto Film by Ridley Scott. They own 'em and I hope they don't mind me using them for my own purposes.

"Beep: Hi Buffy it's me....ah Will of course. It's 1830, I'm back from London, early, want to meet on Friday? Zander should be back by then full of stories from the outer rim, anyway, keep safe see you Friday...I hope...bye."

"Cost of Call 1.15$ thank you for using Callcal."

"No thank you for turning out so expensive and locking me into a contact for a year," retorted Willow dropping the antique phone onto her black leather couch.

Walking over to the computer sitting on the metal corner desk of her large studio apartment, Willow switched on the machine which had had a much needed rest in the two weeks she was away in Europe.

First Emails, then relax

"Email," she requested.

"You have 56 messages," the computer replied in its soft female voice.

"Move junk to junk file."

"4 Messages remain."

"Display Work."

"3 messages."

"Change display colour Green."

That's better Willow thought.

She spent the next few minutes reading the floating green display; two were for legit network security sweeps, the other definitely not legit security work. Mmm not a client I know.

"Reply message 2.

"Thank you for the job offer, in order for me to decide if you warrant the attention of The All Powerful R, please provide details of who spoke of me, so I may punish them accordingly - careless talk will not be tolerated in my domain. APR.

"Reply Message 1.

"No thanks but thanks for thinking of me. Willow Rosenberg.

"Reply Message 3.

"Yes...You know I'd say yes didn't you and have already booked the shuttle - by the way - first class this time. You know I'm worth it. WR.

"Voice Personal Email Balcony 2 minutes."

"1 Message 2 minutes Balcony."

Willow turned around and stopping off to get a Coke from the fridge, made her way to the balcony which ran the length of the apartment's south end.

Opening the glass door and quickly closing it behind her to keep the night chilled air outside; she walked over to the glass and brick wall and looked out onto New San Francisco. Heights had their advantage, up here on the 78th floor the air was at least breathable just the slight aftertaste of sulphur. As usual sky cars and shuttles used the gap between hers and the opposing buildings as a rat run, buzzing by at speed with a flash of neon.

"Ah the good old Ad Balloon oh how I've missed you," she shouted at the overhead blimp as it flashed its latest "You can have the Longevity of Tomorrow today" Ad. .

"Message 1," sounded the glass patio window behind her.

"Volume 2" she replied.

"Hi Willow, it's Buff I know your not back yet and you're all black haired Bad Hack Willow in London at the Mo, but when you get back call me ok I've missed youuuuuu."

Willow looked at her reflection in the glass and shook her dyed black head of hair. "Reminder - Hairdresser - tomorrow."

"Reminder Set - Personal Schedule," came the computer's reply.

Returning to her Coke she looked down over the edge of the wall.

"Woah head rush," Willow cried. "Got to stop doing that Rosenberg, 78 floors is a long way down."