Half an hour later, Rachel sits with Eli in the break room, staring at an untouched cup of tea. The wall screen circulates animated posters highlighting the company values and celebrating success stories about careers that people in the automated vehicle control will never reach.

  This is the first time Rachel notices the room’s details. She has spent her breaks inside the simulation, and if she needs to eat, she summons Whyte to keep her company to avoid talking with her colleagues. Not that they are too talkative; the autonomous vehicle control is occupied by people who don’t mind spending hours immersed in virtual controls.

  Rachel’s head hurts despite the painkiller she took, and the white plastic collar around her neck feels alien and embarrassing. It is like a dog collar: wide, thin, and slick. The electronics are woven in the band that carries a seamlessly attached round bulge stamped with the PCRC logo.

  Program for crime rate control, curse it! Hate towards the collar and what it represents already bubbles in Rachel’s chest. She has been tagged as a criminal. It was an obvious mistake, but the effects were immediate. It is beyond frustrating as all of Rachel’s personal services are down, and her phone is dead as a result of one CRI tag added to her citizenship information.

  The missing internet means she can’t summon Whyte. Her internal system gives a network error, telling it is unable to load content, as IUS exists only in data clouds. Local copies are next to impossible to create, and the recordings of simulated content are closely monitored by the corporation. The corporates don’t like to share content outside the paying audience.

  Rachel knows she should be grateful for her past staying a secret and she should concentrate on filling the complaint notice in the PCRC system, but she can only focus on the error message showing in her eye nerve. Whyte’s absence is almost a physical pain, and Rachel keeps twitching, checking if the man is behind her.

  Eli believes that Rachel is in shock and pain, and she is taking care of everything, trying to comfort Rachel with vanilla-flavored tea.

  “You should drink something, dear. I have the right complaint template now open,” Eli says.

  Focusing on the screen and Eli is difficult, as the only thing Rachel wants is Whyte and the continuation of their romance. Instead of dealing with the template, she wants to use Eli’s computer to log in to her account in IUS to see if the next episode has been published and if the rumors about Allen, another of her favorites, making an appearance are valid.

  “I’m not thirsty,” Rachel says, forcing herself to fill in the basic information. The system finds her case, offering a link Rachel doesn’t open. The IUS fanbase expects knotgoddessARTEMISIA to be among the first ones to submit comments about a new release. Rachel has a vivid virtual life, which this idiotic corporate mistake is about to ruin.

  Rachel tries to understand where to write her argument when two of the office building’s security people walk in, followed by her manager, Yvonne. Eli’s eyes widen in shock, and she looks at the watch and then at Yvonne, who never visits the office in person without announcing it beforehand.

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  “Rachel, dear. I’m so sorry it came to this, but you are fired,” Yvonne informs from the doorway. Her plastic artist has done an incredible work with her cheekbones, they are a softly angled perfection over the curving collar of her black jacket.

  “Yvonne, please. It was all a computer mistake; we are filing a complaint. Come, look at this data! Anyone can see that the guy in the recording is not Rachel; she is not some cheese-stealing narc,” Eli says.

  Rachel uses all her willpower to focus on Yvonne instead of the missing simulation in her head. The manager looks calm, despite this fiasco having messed up her schedule. Rachel feels the plastic collar on her neck, swallows, and says: “The corporate police are brainless brutes. They require an official template to be sent. It will take but a minute.”

  Yvonne’s kitten heels make soft clicks on the carpeted floor as she walks to the screen. She sits down, sighs, and summons a shift calendar. The thinnest of the security guys stares at Rachel’s collar with fever in his eyes. Rachel has seen him many times, but he has shown no interest in her, not in the way he now drools over the criminal’s collar.

  “I see. Attach Rachel’s work shifts in this complaint. I can see some double bookings between her working hours and this crime spree.”

  “Thanks, Yvonne, you are the best boss!” Rachel forgets the guard and smiles, but Yvonne straightens, pushing her black hair over her perfect shoulders.

  “Not so fast. The company procedure is clear on this one. I’ll have to terminate your contract, Rachel.”

  “But the complaint is handled in a few hours! It’s an obvious case,” Eli says.

  “Policy is a policy, even in this case. But maybe…” Yvonne raises her chin at a perfect angle to showcase her side profile. She used to be a model, and Rachel envies those effortless poses as Yvonne continues: “I’ll need to clear your name from the company register, but you’ll get your vacation money. You’ll have an early summer break, and you use those two weeks to get rid of that collar and the criminal ID. Afterwards, you’ll get your old work back.”

  “That’s fair. Thank you, Yvonne,” Rachel says. It is fairer than she anticipated.

  She watches with regret as Yvonne taps Rachel’s company profile closed. The communications, credentials, permits, all the access rights, certificates, and insurances are removed from her identification. The notifications pop up one after another. Closed. Terminated. Cancelled. Rachel feels like she is stripped naked one garment at a time, but these are not clothes falling on the floor; they are the ties connecting her to society.

  The last tap archives Rachel’s work profile like she is past. She looks around the room, but there is nothing worthwhile to remember. Without Whyte, it is just a boring room with corporate propaganda on the walls.

  Eli holds Rachel’s hand, smiling. “Promise to message me as soon as you can. We deserve a drink after this mess.”

  Rachel nods, but she already knows what to do when her internet works again, and Eli is not included in the plan. The guards accompany her and Yvonne out. The thin one makes a show of walking Rachel to the doors, holding her shoulder. It is an excuse to touch her collar.

  “Narcodome bitch,” the guard whispers so quietly Yvonne doesn’t hear it, when he shoves her out.

  “See you in two weeks!” Yvonne waves at Rachel as the glass doors close between them like the mouth of a beast guarding the corporate gates.