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files and videos to the project
again,” she rattled off. “Yes, I told you I already did that!”
    Jude smothered a laugh. It appeared this wasn’t one of the
helpless ones.
    “Um, okay. So how about the cache files?”
    “The what?” Her voice seethed with annoyance.
    “The cache files,” he repeated. “If you still have them in
there, they might be causing the export fail.”
    “I um…” The voice was less sure. “I’m not sure how to find
those.”
    “Just click on Edit, and then Preferences.”
    “Hold on,” the woman answered, “I’m looking.” There was a
pause. “Okay, got to Preferences. Now what?”
    “Now clear the cache,” Jude repeated.
    “How?”
    “Click Cache and clear it.”
    There was a pause.
    “There is no cache!” she growled.
    Jude eyebrows pulled together as he struggled to remember
which video editing program the university used in that particular lab.
    “You’re sure you’re in your Preferences?”
    “Yes! But I’ve looked and there’s no goddamned cache ,
okay?”
    “Huh,” he muttered. “It’s gotta be there somewhere.”
    “Well, maybe it’s supposed to be,” she answered
tartly. “But it’s not.”
    Jude chuckled; she was right. Sometimes things weren’t where
they were supposed to be. He glanced at the clock. Break was starting in five
minutes.
    “Hold on,” Jude said. “I’ll be right down.”
    : : :
: : : : :
    The Tech Department was only two floors away from the
computer labs, but students were already filing out for break when Jude
arrived. He hadn’t rushed downstairs, there wasn’t any reason to. It wasn’t
like it was the Dean’s office or a campus security breach. Jude waved at
Professor Sakamoto as he strolled into the room, his mind already on his break.
    There was only one student left at the computers: a tall
young woman with sandy brown hair that hung to the middle of her back. A long
swath of it hid her face where she leaned in toward the screen. She wore
scuffed cowboy boots and a leather jacket, one jeans-clad knee bouncing in a
furious pace. Jude frowned as he neared; he knew her from somewhere. Like a
word trapped on the edge of memory, there was something familiar about
her narrow limbs and nervous energy. His mind flickered through his Facebook
friends and acquaintances, struggling to make the connection. Sensing him, the
woman suddenly looked up, eyes widening.
    It was her.
    “Indigo, hey. Hi!” Jude stammered. “I didn’t realize…”
    He stopped, staring at her. His memory from last spring hadn’t lied.
    “Hi,” she said. Her face was pale, and she pushed back from
the computer, standing up so that they faced each other. With her boots on,
Jude saw in surprise, they were almost the same height.
    “It’s Jude,” he said, offering his hand.
    She glanced at his fingers, and then back up to his face,
but didn’t move.
    “I remember,” she answered tightly.
    She was watching him the way a mouse might watch a cat, and
he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why . The uncomfortable moment
stretched out for a heartbeat longer. Not knowing how to break the silence,
Jude smiled, dropping his outstretched hand onto the back of the computer
chair.
    “Let me find that cache file for you,” he said. “And I’ll
get out of your way.”
    “Right,” she said, voice relieved. “That’d be great.”
    He sat down, clicking open the Preferences and scanning the
choices: General, Appearance, Audio, Audio Hardware, Audio Output Mapping,
Auto Save, Capture, Device Control, Label Colours, Label Default.
    “Aha!” Jude said, clicking on the final choice. “Media’s
right there.”
    Indigo’s voice appeared by his shoulder. She was leaning in
beside him, scowling at the screen.
    “You told me Cache files.”
    “I… yeah,” Jude said with a laugh, “I forgot the Media
folder’s name, but the Cache file access is hidden in there.”
    She turned to look at him, her hair brushing over his shoulder.
This close, he saw,