Urban woke the next day unable to breathe. She bolted up in bed, gulping down air. Each breath was labored and painful.

Not this. Not today.

Dread layered her gut in thick, sticky syrup. She knew this feeling.

The last time she’d experienced this had been a year ago, when she’d been forced to go to a private hospital to get steroid shots. She had a test in forty minutes. She didn’t have time to drive to a private hospital, and going to a public one was a sure way to get her medical genomics records in a database that would feed directly to her school.

Instead, she took what medication she had, ordered a hot tea, and crammed for her test. Hoping for the best, she headed to Crypto Currencies.

In class, the probot turned on the XR test-room setting, and Urban logged on. Her red-headed avatar sat at a lone chair in the same classroom. The probot and the classroom were still visible, but all of the other students had vanished. There were now several sheets of paper and a pencil sitting on her desk. Urban switched on classical music before turning to the test.

She was on question ten out of fifty when the coughing started. She took a quick swig of her lukewarm lemon tea to try to calm her lungs and her rising panic.

“Are you okay?” someone whispered.

Urban blinked out of XR mode in her retina display and to dual vision. Coral leaned closer, concern etched on her face. “You alright?”

Urban clenched her hands under her desk. Remain calm. Don’t let her see how you’re feeling. “Yes. Fine. Drink went down the wrong way.”

She coughed again before switching back to XR mode. With enhanced immune systems, none of these students had ever had so much as a sniffle in their lives. Unless they’d been to the Outskirts, or choked on food or drink, they’d probably never experienced a cough.

Her lungs grew itchier and more irritated by the minute. Fear gnawed at her.

Focus on the test. It’s the fastest way out.

Cough.

She wrote down her answer to question twenty-three.

Cough. Wheeze.

She read the next question and answered it.

Cough. Cough. Wheeze.

The now-cold tea wasn’t helping.

She tried to concentrate.

It was getting more difficult to focus. She was hyperventilating.

Cough. Cough.

What would happen if she went to the hospital and her medical genomics charts were shared with PKU? But I can’t breathe. I’m going to have to go to the nearest public hospital. How long will it take to get to the garage, ride my motorcycle to the closest ER, then get a steroid shot?

Calculating the time made her breath come in quick shallow gasps. Urban wanted to leave, but she forced herself to remain still. She tried to call her motorcycle to have it air dropped near the classroom but found her system was in lockdown mode. She forgot testing periods meant no communication with the outside world.

Cough. Cough. Cough. Wheeze.

She was on question forty when the coughing got out of hand.

Switching back to dual mode, she bit her lip. The students who hadn’t opted for noise cancelation were casting sideways looks at her.

She answered question forty-five.

Cough. Wheeze. Cough. Cough. She was struggling to breathe.

The classroom tilted and swayed. What was this? Dizziness? That was usually the last sign before she passed out.

I have to go. Now.

Ding!

Her retina display confirmed her test submission.

Urban’s lungs burned too much for her to care about not having completed it. Several students stared as she bolted out.

Once outside, she called for her motorcycle to be air dropped, then wheezing and coughing, she stumbled toward it.

Her chest was tight with pain as she rode.

As she arrived at the hospital, she hopped a curb and left her bike leaned up against a wall. Tripping into the ER, she made it to all the way to the friendly receptionist-bot before her strength vanished.

She collapsed. The corners of her vision turned black.

When she awoke, her throat was worn and raspy, but her chest cool. She could breathe normally again. Florescent lights blinded her, and a medbot pricked her arm, then left.

Where am I?

With a start, she realized someone was holding her hand. Her gaze followed the arm. A familiar head leaned on top of the mattress, fast asleep.

“Lillian?”

Her sister jerked upright. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was a tangled white-blond mess. She was momentarily disoriented before giving Urban a sleepy smile. “You’re awake.”

Urban reached out and touched her arm. “You didn’t have to come.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’d do the same for me if this were one of my migraines.”

Despite being Enhanced, Lillian would occasionally have bad migraines. After years of quietly seeking out medical help, their parents had finally given up on finding a cure. Fortunately for Lillian, the migraines usually only happened once a year and were easy enough to hide, so as not to attract any more attention to the Lee household.

“What happened?” Urban glanced at her surroundings in confusion. The last thing she remembered was arriving at the hospital.

“You passed out. Fortunately, Trig brought you here immediately.”

Urban blinked. “Oh.” Scanning her augmented maps, she saw Trig’s faithful presence out in the lobby. “You should give that guy a raise.”

There was a loud purr, and then something jumped on top of the table.

“Baozi!” Urban leaned forward and hugged the giant cat. “Is he allowed in here?”

“Course not.” Lillian winked.

“The things you get away with.”

“Anything for my little sis.” Lillian turned serious. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Now.” Urban hesitated, suddenly embarrassed. “Lillian, I’m sorry for the way I treated you at the race. I just really need a high sosh. Or . . . you know.”

Lillian studied her sister. “What is it?”

Urban hesitated, then told her about where all her crypto points had gone.

“Of course, I’ll help you,” Lillian told her after listening, then glanced at Urban. “How have you even made it this long with so few points?”

“I’ve been eating a lot of rice,” Urban confessed.

Lillian eyed her with concern. “Just ask next time.”

“Hopefully there is no next time.”

“Agreed.” Lillian turned to the wall and gestured to Urban’s projected vitals. “I’ve already booted out the healthcare bots and tweaked all your data so no one will know you-know-what.”

The things my family has to do to hide my genetics . . .

Urban sat up with a jolt.

Maybe the reason her family denied having ever seen the microneedle patch was because they were telling the truth. Was it possible her memory wasn’t from her world in the Metropolis? Was it possibly from before she’d been adopted—when she was still in the Outskirts?

Urban thought back to her adoption. She was three when she arrived at the orphanage. She had an image of a dark corridor in the orphanage and Lillian standing in front of her to protect her from something. But that was her only memory before coming to the Metropolis. Surely there should be more from that age. She was pretty sure her subconscious blocked the rest.

Urban concentrated hard to bring back the image she’d had of a patch sitting next to a bowl of soup and chopsticks. The bowl was porcelain, white-and-blue but cheap-looking, and the chopsticks were the wooden kind found at hole-in-the-wall restaurants, not the lacquered black ones at her house.

She realized the memory was not from her home in the Metropolis, but from her birth parents, whoever they were, in their house. Her birth parents had somehow had the microneedle patch. But then why hadn’t they enhanced her? Why had Lillian been enhanced? And why didn’t Lillian remember it?

“A ‘thank you’ would suffice,” Lillian was saying. “I mean, it was pretty easy for me, cause I’m a brilliant Inventor and all, but I did just hack several personal data sets and break through two security protocols to do it.”

A headache crept across Urban’s temples as questions flooded in. Dry paper sheets crinkled under her as she leaned back against the bed.

“Do you remember anything about our birth parents?” Urban asked suddenly.

Lillian frowned. “What?”

“Our birth parents? What were they like? Do you have any memories from before the orphanage?”

Lillian looked at her in bewilderment. “What does this have to do with getting you out of the hospital?”

“Nothing. I just need to know.”

Lillian continued to look at Urban, then she answered slowly, “I was four. Not really. Why?”

Disappointment filled Urban. How was it possible Lillian couldn’t remember anything, but she could?

Maybe she’d imagined the memory. Was it possible she had somehow retained a memory from when she was three years old, before arriving at the orphanage?

“Urban?” Lillian’s voice cut into her thoughts. “What’s going on?”

Urban debated telling her sister, but she wanted to have more proof about her theory first. Lillian was already looking at her like she’d grown two sets of wings. If she told her sister now, Lillian might tell their parents or insist she stay longer in the hospital. “Nothing. Just curious.”

Lillian eyed her a moment longer, then changed the subject. “By the way, I also hacked the bio printer to release an extra steroid to take with you.”

Urban’s eyes darted to a 3D printer whirring away in a corner where it was creating a shot and loaded vial. “I swear, if all Inventors are as clever as you, society is doomed.”

Lillian grinned as she handed the finished product to her.

Urban examined the vial, then looked up. “How did you know I was here?”

Lillian’s eyes darted to Urban’s wrist. “Mom and Dad got a couple pings from SCA showing you violated some traffic regulations. Then they got a notification saying you’d checked into the ER and were being administered treatment. Since I was the closest, they pinged me, and I came straight over.”

Lillian seemed stiff and uncomfortable. Urban had seen her talk that way before when she was lying to their parents.

“And?” Urban probed.

“And what?” Lillian looked confused.

“And what else aren’t you telling me?”

Lillian avoided Urban’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Urban watched her toes curl and uncurl at the edge of the blanket.

Lillian began picking imaginary specks of dirt out of Baozi’s fur. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

Urban let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. So, are Mother and Father mad?”

“Not mad. Just concerned.” Lillian hesitated. “I think they’re wondering if they made the right decision letting you go to uni.”

Urban bolted up in bed again. “They can’t make me go home.”

Lillian pushed her gently back down. “They’re not. I think they’re concerned about how you’ll hide this”—she motioned at the ER room—“from the other students if you don’t get better.”

Urban had been wondering that exact thing. “I’ll find a way. I’m sure none of the students today will remember. They were all too focused on the test. Mostly.”

“And what if you need emergency transport again?”

“I can bring my nebulizer to the dorms. That always helps calm my lungs down.”

“But how often do you have the dorm room to yourself? You can’t use it in front of your roommates without attracting suspicion. What if you need it in the middle of the night? That’s when it’s usually bad, right?”

“Sometimes,” Urban admitted. “I might be able to go out to the garage and hook it up to my motorcycle.”

“And how are you going to get out of the dorms?”

“Learn a few tricks of the trade from Coral.”

Lillian cocked her head. “Who’s that?”

“One of my roommates.” Urban fingered her jade-beaded bracelet. “She has a way of tripping the curfew.”

“Hmmm . . . if you say so. Here, drink this. It will help your immune system.” Lillian handed her a wolfberry tea. “Are you ready for me to take you back to the dorms, or do you want to stay here a while longer?”

Urban pet Baozi and watched the cat rub her head against her hand. “I think I’m ready to go.”

Back in the dorm, there was a delivery of street food and a teddy bear from Everest. Urban’s heart warmed at the sight of it.

She took a picture of the gift and sent it to Everest.

[Urban: What’s this?]

[Everest: I was going to send you flowers but realized that might tip people off to your dating status. Lillian told me what happened. How are you feeling?]

[Urban: I’m fine now. Thank you. I’ve named the teddy Crackle.]

She took a video of her cuddling with her teddy bear.

[Everest: Tell Crackle to back off. That’s my woman!]

Urban smiled to herself. It was strange how just a few words from Everest could calm her down. How did he always know the right thing to say and do?

Between pinging Everest, sleeping, and sipping wolfberry tea, the weekend passed by quickly. But Urban grew more stressed as she fell further behind in her schoolwork.

Monday was the Annual Games preparation holiday, and Urban spent it resting and attempting to get caught up on homework. Normally, it was one of her favorite holidays, and she binge-watched all the activities.

But today, she only allowed herself short breaks to watch the feeds of exotic animals purchased and being brought into the arena, or the new robotic advancements that would be incorporated into the Games. It was rumored there was even a half-robotic, half-flesh dragon being created.

By the time Tuesday rolled around, she had regained her strength but was tight with worry about her looming assignments.