Sam and Saretha were asleep when I got in. I slipped into bed and lay awake, thinking about how to share my news. In the darkness, I buzzed with excitement and a secret I wished I couldn’t keep. This was a problem. My silence may have been inspirational, but it was painfully impractical. I could not speak what I knew. I needed to show them.
Was Saretha’s crescent scar visible in any of Carol Amanda Harving’s movies? Almost certainly not. They would dodge away anything that wasn’t absolutely flawless, even on an actual person. I might be able to find a candid picture, like the one in her hall, but I had no way to search. How could I find one with the exact texture, from the right angle and light, and with enough resolution to show the stolen skin?
The only place I could be sure to prove my point was eighty-nine floors up in a posh, high-security building. I could break in again and take my chances with not getting caught. I could make it, but I couldn’t imagine a way to get Sam and Saretha up there. Not alone.
Beside me, Saretha snored softly. Her face looked sad even as she slept. I wanted to shake her awake and tell her there was hope. We had a chance that could save us.
Who rented that apartment in Malvika Place on the eighty-ninth floor? Was it ever occupied? I wondered what the doormen thought, knowing this famous actress lived in their posh building but was never seen. Did the staff think she was a recluse? Did they imagine she was too busy filming to enjoy the luxury of their amenities?
Then it hit me. For all intents and purposes, Saretha was Carol Amanda Harving. Why couldn’t she just walk right into Malvika Place? They might even hold open the door! I could picture them falling all over themselves, delighted at a rare sighting of the starlet. It was her apartment. It was her home. What could they possibly say?
The idea of turning everything around on Rog or whoever was behind it made me feel giddy. I just needed to figure out what to do about her Cuff.
Cuffs and Ads ping wirelessly, back and forth, everywhere you go, verifying the identity, bank account, credit and history of the consumer wearing it. This all happens so fast that the system can pull up a tailored Ad before you can blink. If Saretha stepped outside, the first Ad that pinged her Cuff would flag Butchers & Rog’s DESIST notice and send an alert right to their legal team. Police would descend like flies. Saretha would be arrested within minutes.
As if it did not want to be forgotten, my own Cuff lit up with an Ad for Ambiex™. Little Zs floated silently over the screen, telling me I could be asleep in minutes. Below, the Ad listed the thousand things that could go wrong.
I flicked it away. It floated back from the edge, like it was trying to soothe me, reminding me I was eligible for a free Cuff ring that would inject Ambiex™ whenever sleep’s outside your reach, the words around the shape of moonlit clouds.
I turned over, closed my eyes and buried my face in my pillow so I couldn’t see the glow. I wished I had taken Henri up on the offer to remove it long ago. What did I need a Cuff for?
My eyes popped open. The room was lit by the scant, unyielding glow of the Ambiex™ Ad.
Henri! I thought. I said his name in my mind. Henri could remove my Cuff. He could remove Saretha’s Cuff. She could walk through the city undetected by the system, straight to Malvika Place. All she had to do was follow my lead and not speak.
Beside me, Saretha stirred in the light, and I turned the Cuff away.
I gently put my head down and closed my eyes again. I pictured the outline of Henri’s apartment on Kel’s Pad. He’d shown me exactly where to find him. My breathing slowed. My muscles relaxed. I would go the next day, after sundown and before Placements. I fell asleep, thinking of the small metallic-blue device he kept in a small pocket in his pack.