March Forth (The Woodford Chronicles Book 1) by Deirdre S. Hopton

nowhere to go.  She desperately wanted a cigarette, but had none on her and imagined that even if she did, lighting one would probably set off some fire alarms or even sprinklers in this institutional setting.
    At some point, she must have dozed off.  The next thing she knew, she was being startled awake by a hand on her shoulder.  She gasped and sat up, causing Steven to take a step back.
                  He held up a mug in one hand, as if it were some kind of a peace offering.  “I brought coffee.”
                  She eyed him warily for a moment, gathering her wits before reaching for the mug.  The light was no different in the small, windowless room than it had been when she first went to sleep.  It was discombobulating.
                  “What time is it?” she finally asked, after sipping the coffee.  It had a lot more cream and sugar than she would have liked, but beggars can’t be choosers, and she did love a hot cup of coffee in the morning.
                  “Seven.  We thought you should sleep in a bit,” Steven replied.  It took her a second to realize he was serious.  Obviously, secret government agencies worked on a different schedule than former restaurant employees.
                  “Um….thanks,” she said with as much sincerity as she could muster through the sleep-addled haze of her mind.  “What now?”
                  “Breakfast.  Then we have some more tests.”
     
                  Breakfast was not what she expected.  She had not spent much time picturing what it would be like, on their walk through the empty halls, but when Steven stopped at a door that looked like every other door, she did not expect it to lead to a fairly large, well-lit cafeteria in which twenty or thirty other organization operatives were enjoying their breakfasts.  For a second she just stood and stared.
                  “This is the cafeteria,” Steven explained.
                  “I kind of got that,” Deanna answered.
                  “Well, you looked confused.”
                  “It’s just….” Deanna faltered, then rallied.  “It’s so bright.  And I didn’t know anyone except you, the General, and those techie guys were here.”
                  “Well, there are quite a few of us,” Steven said, as he motioned for her to walk with him to the food line.
                  The room was about the size of a school cafeteria, with white floors, tables, and chairs.  Fluorescent lighting cast its horrifyingly bright illumination down on the black-clad men and women of the organization.  Many of them seemed to examine Deanna as she passed.  She felt very exposed, and very out of place.
                  Steven drew to a halt in front of what Deanna had originally mistaken for an ordinary cafeteria food line, and took two black trays off of a pile at the end of the counter.  Once Deanna was close enough to look properly at the food line, she realized that there was no food under the glass sneeze guards, nor were there employees waiting to dole out food behind the line.  Instead, there were matte black squares around another raised black square under the glass.  Steven put his hand on one of the matte black squares, and a plate heaped with eggs and bacon appeared on the raised square.
                  As he took his plate from the raised square, Steven told her, “You just have to think about what you want for breakfast, believe you can have it, and put your hand on the square.”
                  “I’m not generally a breakfast person,” Deanna replied.
                  Steven looked at her in a way she thought was very condescending as he said, “You need to have breakfast.  We have a long day ahead, and I don’t know when you’ll get another chance to