The Rooftop Below the Stars

Cassia had always wondered what it would be like to belong on the 108th floor. The night sky was so close here—starless, mostly, but dazzling all the same with neon reflections from glass towers and drone lanes.

She stood just inside the sliding doors of the Skyline Pavilion, the hotel’s open-air crown jewel, holding her cart stacked with cleaned glasses and napkins. Inside, guests glittered in their metallic fabrics, laughter bubbling over designer cocktails, music pulsing from a tiny black speaker clipped to a sunshade post. Its sound—so full and deep despite its size—filled every corner of the rooftop with energy.

Cassia lingered by the Bose SoundLink Micro, letting herself feel the music’s warmth. She’d borrowed one just like it from her friend Malika last summer for beach nights with her cousins—same rich bass, same waterproof shell impervious to spilled drinks or sudden rain. It made sense here: on rooftops or riverbanks, things needed to endure.

Her earpiece buzzed. “Cassia,” said Renata from security. “We need you in suite 108-07.”

She hurried down private corridors, past silent housekeepers and stewards who kept their eyes low. In the suite—a swirl of silk sheets and panoramic city views—she found Renata and Mr. Angstrom, the guest whose name everyone knew but never addressed directly.

“My watch is missing,” he snapped before Cassia could speak. “It was beside my phone when I left for the party.”

Renata gestured to Cassia: check under furniture, behind consoles. As she worked, she noticed a wet ring on the nightstand—the kind that matched glasses served only at the rooftop bar.

“Who else came in here tonight?” Cassia asked quietly.

“No one but staff,” Renata replied. Her tone was apologetic but firm. “Maintenance did fix a window earlier.”

Cassia knew who that meant: Arjun, who always played music through his little Bluetooth speaker as he worked—classical in the mornings, protest songs in the evenings.

---

The next afternoon, rumors swirled among staff that Arjun was suspended pending investigation. Cassia found him in the basement locker room, head bowed over his speaker’s cracked shell.

“I didn’t take anything,” he muttered. “But they saw me with my bag near Angstrom’s suite.”

“Did you bring your speaker up there?” she asked gently.

He nodded. “Was fixing that jammed pane when rain started blowing in. Had it playing low so I could hear if anyone called.”

Cassia sat beside him, recalling how everyone underestimated what these speakers could do—how clearly they picked up voices when calls came through.

“Did you take any calls while you were there?”

He shook his head. “No calls logged.” He handed her his device; Cassia checked its history: nothing unusual.

---

That evening, Cassia returned to the rooftop for an after-hours cleanup shift. The portable speaker still hung where it had all night—forgotten by guests but still powered on with its soft indicator light.

She pressed play; music returned, then paused as she cycled through playback options. A recorded voice echoed through: "Hey! Be careful with that—don't spill!" followed by laughter and clinking glasses.

She rewound further: muted conversation beneath party noise… then Mr. Angstrom’s voice: "Leave it here, it’s safe." Another voice answered—one Cassia recognized as Laila's, a VIP guest known for sneaking off with trinkets as jokes at others’ expense.

Heart pounding, Cassia downloaded the audio log and brought it to Renata. Together they played back segments until Laila’s laughter gave way to sounds of drawers opening, footsteps fading out.

By morning, security had retrieved Angstrom’s watch from Laila’s suite—a prank gone wrong, covered up by privilege and assumptions about invisible workers like Arjun.

---

The hotel never apologized openly; these things were swept aside too easily at such heights. But word got around among staff—how Cassia trusted details over first impressions; how Arjun got his job back with quiet dignity; how even small devices could record truths others preferred to ignore.

Cassia finished her shift as dawn broke over the city’s distant spires. On her way home she passed another team setting up for an executive brunch under mirrored canopies—and smiled as one of them clipped a familiar little speaker onto their rolling cart, letting music fill another day above and below the stars.