VI

Elodie arrived at the Long-Term Care Unit breathless, at exactly 0930. Precisely on time. Although, to Elodie, who was habitually ten minutes early, being on time felt unnervingly close to being late.

And like every day he was scheduled to work before her, Gus sat ready and waiting, his back to the door. “Almost, Elodie. Al-most.” Gus waggled his finger at the clock glowing down at them from the corner of the holoscreen that monitored their patients. From the back, Gus looked sharp in his maroon Key Corp LTCU scrubs with his shaggy hair and lanky, unassuming figure, but when he turned around—

“You’re wet.” Confusion creased Gus’s bushy, dandruff-
flecked brow.

Elodie pulled her towel-dried waves into a tight bun and smiled politely. “Yeah, I showered.” Sure, Westfall citizens opted for light baths instead of the water showers of the past, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t take a real shower. There wouldn’t have been one in her house if it was against the rules. “Are you planning on giving me an update before you head out?”

“Don’t I always?” Gus pursed his thin lips, instantly transforming back into the impatient employee who treated every workday like it was the worst day of his life. But how could it be? This is what the Key chose for him, for both of them. And it wasn’t an idea the corporation plucked out of thin air. No, the Key had taken their time. And Gus and Elodie and everyone else in Westfall and cities around the globe had done their part and taken the series of tests to determine not only what would make them happiest, but also what they would excel at. The Key had done an impeccable job placing them (not that Elodie would ever think that the Key would do anything less). Elodie was happy. Her parents were happy. Her friends were happy. Gus . . .

“I already did a Violet Shield once-over on the Control Center.” Gus brushed his hand through his dishwater brown hair. Specks of dandruff leapt from his scalp, adding to the light dusting on his shoulders. “Oh, and there was a transfer last night.” He motioned to the final patient care chart in the line of five that glowed paper-white on the holoscreen. “Don’t know what her deal is, so you might want to run the shield again soon, just to be on the safe side.”

Elodie’s gaze scanned the row of patient care chart thumbnails. “A new patient? I thought we were full.”

“We were.” The bruise-purple rings around Gus’s eyes seemed to swallow them as he squinted. Too many hours spent in VR. “Then they sent one out to the MediCenter in Zone Two, the lesser MediCenter, and brought this one from . . .” He hiked his shoulders. “I don’t know. Somewhere else.”

Elodie’s hands tightened into fists. “This one, that one. You’re a step away from referring to them as things instead of people.”

He further rounded his slumped shoulders with a shrug. “They’re in medically induced comas until they either get put down or get better. Bots take care of them—”

“We take care of them!” she said. Gus’s slack-jawed expression mirrored the shock tingling through Elodie’s limbs. It wasn’t technically an outburst, but it was definitely more bursty than anything Elodie normally said.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Yeah, fine. You’re right. We take care of ’em.”

Elodie let out a puff of air. She needed to get herself under control. “Who brought the patient from where?”

“Hell, Elodie, I don’t know. I just run the Violet Shield and make sure none of the pumps malfunction and no dumb bots get stuck in doorways. I’m not in charge of intake. That’s your job.”

It was times like these when Elodie wished she had Vi’s covert assassin abilities. “Well, since it is part of your job, did you make sure all of the treatment pumps are full enough to get me through the day?”

“Yeah, yeah. I did everything I’m supposed to do. It was a busy night, but I’m not stupid.” He rubbed the small diagonal scar behind his right ear and stared blankly at the empty space above Elodie’s head.

Automatically, she rubbed the matching scar behind her own ear. The bump from the implant had faded long ago. A small strip of smooth skin was the only outward evidence of the tech that had been injected under her scalp shortly after birth, same as every other citizen. The implant had grown up with her, grown into her, learned with her. It made her, and everyone else’s, life so much easier. Although Gus’s habit of touching the implant point every time he checked his schedule, mail, or a plethora of other things Elodie was thankful she couldn’t see, was a constant and obnoxious reminder that he wasn’t paying her any attention.

He let out an exasperated breath “I have VR surf lessons scheduled in exactly thirty minutes, so I’m out of here.” He jogged to the elevator and waved his cuff under the reader. It beeped, beeped, and beeped again as Gus flapped his arm under the beam of light.

“You only need to scan it one time,” Elodie muttered.

Gus tapped his foot against the tile. “Unlike some people, I have a life outside of work that I’m ready to get to.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I happen to like my job.” Elodie spun around as the elevator doors swallowed her coworker. “Damn.” She dropped into the hard plastic chair in front of the control panel and quickly scanned the steadily blinking peaks and valleys of the new Patient Ninety-Two’s heartrate monitor before she hefted her backpack onto her lap and unzipped the center pouch.

“I do too have a life outside of work.” The neon lights of the holoscreen glimmered off the slick cover of her nursing textbook. “Actually, I have lots of lives outside of work.”