It’s been days, and the person in the magenta wig still penetrates my thoughts in quiet moments. I’ll space out, staring at the pink cursor of my code, and it will morph into the magenta watcher. During dinner, their eyes bore into me from the vegetables. And anyone wearing any shade of pink on the Flick feed brings me back to them observing me like a specimen in a zoo.

  “Jaqs, don’t overwater that one,” Mel says, breaking me out of my thoughts.

  “Oops,” I respond and tilt the glass up, breaking the flow of water to the bougainvillea Mel has been trying to keep alive for years. It hates the weather in ‘Cuse, and I’m pretty sure it exists out of spite.

  “What’s got you so distracted?” Mel asks as she heads back out to the balcony to fuss with the plants out there.

  I follow after her, stepping around the erratically dancing Sunny, bouncing from window to window in search of the sun. It’s a cloudy day, and Sunny is becoming a hazard to humans and plants. She needs to settle down under her sun lamp, but refuses.

  Mel is watering sunflowers, but looks towards me, expecting an answer. I’ve never lied to Mel, and I don’t want to begin, but telling her about the magenta-wigged person would worry her for no reason. Good thing there’s been something else occupying my thoughts.

  “I met a woman at Dom’s party. We’re meeting up tonight.” Technically, it’s true. I hadn’t known Evangeline was going to be at Dom’s party, and we are meeting up tonight.

  Mel almost drops the watering can. “What?”

  “It’s not that surprising, is it?” I rub a hand over my head.

  “Not in a ‘you’re a terrible person, and no one would date you type of way’, but in the ‘it’s been a long time since you went out with someone’ way,” Mel says.

  “Thank you?” I reply, unsure. “Also, not a date. Those words were not uttered.”

  “Right,” Mel says, drawing the word out.

  The contract between Prism and me has been finalized. But Evangeline messaged to say someone wanted to meet with me before I was allowed to sign. It isn’t a date. No one goes on a date to meet the head of a shady organization. That would be a bad date. Pretty sure that would be a bad date. It’s been so long since I’ve hung out with someone that isn’t Mel and Gen that I don’t even trust my date instincts.

  “Don’t say anything to Gen.”

  Mel raises an eyebrow.

  “Gen doesn’t like her.”

  Mel frowns, a full conversation trapped within the downturned corners of her lips.

  “Yeah, another person Gen doesn’t like. Shocker,” I answer. I finish watering the plants and dump the cup into the sink. “I have to go.”

  “Wait, Jaqs, tell me more!”

  I slip my shoes on and call for Az, who has disappeared into the bowels of the unit. “What do you want to know?”

  She waves her hands in the air. “A name? Where are you going? Information for if you go missing.”

  I roll my eyes. “You have got to stop watching true crime shows. Her name is Evangeline, we’re going to a, uh…” the word escapes me, but so does what to say. I cannot tell my roommate I’m going to go meet with a shady org to protect her and break Evangeline free.

  “Coffee shop? Restaurant?” Mel supplies, trying to help.

  I shake my head. “Place where privileged people go to help people in hard times or the like?”

  A crease appears between Mel’s brows. “A volunteer thing?”

  “Yes! I’m not sure more than that.” Pretty truthful, but the guilt grows. It settles deep within my mind, chewing at the restraints around my anxiety.

  Az teeters out of my bedroom, playing an action movie soundtrack and blinking pink. I scoop him up, and with a final wave to Mel, we leave. Down on the street, a black car waits. The window rolls down, and there Evangeline sits, blood red lips cocked to one side. She’s wearing a white suit with rainbow lapels, a pocket square, and shoes. It’s a more subdued look, but still bright. For once, I tried to match her dressiness and put on my non-ripped, non-oil-stained pants of bright blue and paired them with a fuzzy neon green sweater.

  “Your chariot,” she says and slides over as the door opens.

  “Thanks,” I reply.

  Az blinks red. A warning. There’s something about the security protocols on the car that he doesn’t like. But there’s nothing else to do.

  With a sigh, I get in the car.

  From the inside, it appears to be the same as any other general use car. The four seats face each other, and LED lights are pressed into every orifice, blinking a kaleidoscope of color at me from the roof, ground, and seats. There’s nothing that should make me panic, but it still settles over my bones. I let out a breath and grip Az tighter.

  I can do this.

  I have to.

  The car pulls into traffic and heads towards the highway. It slips in between cars and rides close to bumpers. Someone’s messed with the safety protocols in the car for sure.

  “So,” I say, easing into the silence. Trying to sneak in and destroy the tension—the fear—that locks my spine. “I think I’m being stalked.”

  Evangeline stares at me, eyes wide. “What?”

  I nod. “I came out of a doctor’s appointment a few days ago to find someone waiting across the street. They didn’t quite fit in. Wore a real bad magenta wig. Any idea?”

  Evangeline purses her lips. “Could be someone else from Prism.”

  She doesn’t elaborate. I glance around the car, throat growing tight with worry. It’s probably bugged like Gen’s shop. Microphones and cameras have gotten so small that they could be anywhere.

  I heave a sigh and swallow past the constriction, forcing it to loosen. Better safe than sorry. Everything is fine. It’s going to be fine.

  Evangeline turns back to her holo, slipping through apps with a small furrow between her brows. I don’t dare ask what she’s doing. I’m not sure I want to know.

  Half an hour later, the car pulls up in front of the Niagara Mohawk building, affectionately called NiMo, and I follow Evangeline out of the car. Bitterness clings to the air. It sticks to the tires and electrical hum of the city, riding them to reach me and wind around my bones, making me draw in, shoulders hunching around my ears where the scratch of my jacket against them grounds me to the present.

  Above us, NiMo’s metal statue holds court over the street. Its arms are thrown out, pinned against the building to draw people into a cool embrace. Accordion folded wings fan out above it to frame a giant stained-glass window. It pours neon light onto the street and is the only bright aspect of the otherwise blocky steel building. Grey paints the first floor, offering room for shadows to creep into the neon utopia, but they’re thrown back by the tan stone on the floor above. The lights on the outside glow gold, casting decadence into the gathering dusk. A relic of the old world. Original art deco, unlike the hotel ballroom.

  “One of the last remaining art deco pieces,” Evangeline says, gesturing at the building. “We bought it quite a few years ago when they were going to take the angel off to modernize it.”

  “That would have been a shame. Art Deco is one of my favorite styles.”

  “Not very bright of you,” Evangeline says.

  I shrug in answer. “We all have our faults.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Come on, we’re going to be late,” Evangeline says, taking my hand and pulling me towards the double doors.

  “To meet the boss?”

  “Yes,” Evangeline pauses. “Her name is Blake, and she doesn’t like being kept waiting.”

  “Who’s Blake in Prism?”

  “The boss of this branch.”

  I let her pull me, frowning at the back of her head. Blake is a very unbright name. No way to shorten it without forming something unappetizing, nor is it short for anything longer unless it was something like Blakessa. I snort, but it loses all steam as we cross from the cutting chill into the warm lobby.

  We’re greeted by gold. It’s inlaid into the angular pattern of the hallway’s walls and drips down to the white floor to travel along its distance until the rays of a sun are formed around a circular seal. Evangeline passes over it, but I pause, drawing her back. In the seal, a face stares back. It holds the same aquiline nose and blank eyes of the angel outside. The pattern of its wings forms the ring of the seal, locking in a phrase and barring it from the world. Evangeline pulls me over the circular cage before I piece together the Latin from half-remembered high school memories, and into the elevator.

  Three stories up, a door in the middle of the hall stands open. Waiting. My heart hammers in my chest, threatening to break free. Nerves claw at my throat, fighting the air I’m desperate to pull into my lungs. Before we arrived, the plan to set Evangeline free seemed reasonable. Doable. An easy task with a vague element of danger. However, being in the stronghold of Prism makes it real.

  The danger forms from the vague wisps into the monstrous camera eyes stalking the shadows. The doors on either side of us are the beast’s teeth bared and waiting in the warm light. It breaks the fear free from my gut and allows it to twist and wind around my muscles, tightening my posture into a ridged facsimile of a statue. My fingers grip Az to the point they are white. He blinks a slow crimson in my arms. A warning. I tap my fingers against his glass. His light goes solid for a few moments and returns to his slow blink.

  He’s recording.

  We cross through the open doorway into a darker room lit gold by floor lamps. The embers of light slip across deep brown walls and floors, reaching within the darkness to destroy, but the light is consumed. A dark faux wood desk sits in the middle of the small room, an ornate crimson rug under it, and sitting in a high-back black leather chair is a woman. She’s petite, her angular face more like that of a fox than a human with hazel eyes the color of fire and hair to match.

  “Blake, good evening,” Evangeline mumbles, head falling.

  “Almost late, Evangeline,” Blake replies, voice high and child-like.

  “My fault, I got distracted by the seal in the entrance hall,” I say, my voice shaking on the first few words. I curl my fingers into a fist, reigning in the nerves. I need to get myself under control so I can be here for Evangeline.

  The small woman links her fingers under her chin. In doing so, she mimics the interlacing metal of the chandelier above her desk. There is little in the way of technology in the room. A holo sits on the desk to project a computer, and there’s a screen in the wall, but that’s it. And nothing bright.

  “In tenebris spes excrescit,” Blake says, without any difficulty.

  I’ve forgotten a lot more Latin than I realized. “What does it mean?”

  Blake huffs. “In the darkness, hope grows.”

  I glance at Evangeline, ready to make a joke, but it dies on my tongue. She’s become subdued. All trace of a smile is gone from her face, and a muscle jumps near her jaw from how hard she’s clenching her teeth. Her eyes are fixed on Blake, wary and tight. Prey waiting for a predator to move.

  Perhaps my fear wasn’t overdrawn.

  “Jaqs,” Blake spits out my nickname with so much venom I flinch. “How very bright of you. What’s it short for?”

  “Jacqueline.”

  “Who is the bot?” Blake demands.

  I grip Az tighter. “Az, Azimov is his full name.”

  Blake laughs, rising from her desk. I could tuck her under my chin. She’d probably press a knife against my throat if I did. “Clever. The contracts department said you want to trade things to get to the stars?”

  “Yes,” I reply.

  Blake rounds the desk and leans against it. Standing with us since there are no other chairs in the room.

  “An interesting idea,” Blake says, examining her nails. “And why not do it through money? Raise enough. Take out a loan. Ask a rich friend?”

  Her refusal to use the word cost grates on my ears. “I started to raise some cost, then came up with this idea. It’s not a good reason to take out a loan, and I don’t want to use a friend like that.”

  Judging by how calm she is, Blake’s asking questions she has the answers to. Wouldn’t put it past Blake to have looked up everything about me, from my medical to my blooming friendship with Dom. I hug Az tighter.

  Blake glances at Evangeline. Her eyes slide to me and narrow. “You’ve been trading for a while?”

  “I’ve been trying, yes,” I say, hesitance lacing my words. “Why are you asking questions you have the answers to?”

  “I’m making sure your story matches what I’ve learned. We wouldn’t want a lie to exist between the three of us, would we?”

  “No ma’am,” Evangeline answers.

  “Good. Let me tell you what else I learned, Jacquelin. You’re sick. Your medical chart was easy enough to get, and it shows that you were sicker last year and had surgery for one issue, but that the autoimmune disease isn’t in remission. You’re on a drug for it, and you’ll get flagged if you try to get on that shuttle to the space station. Am I missing anything?”

  Evangeline glances at me. I refuse to meet her eyes. The reminder of the hurt and pain of the last year breaks the stitching on my mending soul. Blake doesn’t get to know that. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “No, you’ve got it all.”

  “Trading up to a ticket to space doesn’t matter if it’s impossible for you to go,” Blake says.

  “I still needed to figure that part out, but I’m going.” I grit my teeth. I’d been nursing the thought of having Prism help me hide my medication use, but Blake is antagonistic. I don’t want to ask her for shit.

  “So why should Prism offer a contract to you?”

  If Blake does this with every person Prism works with, it’s amazing they have any power. But people get desperate. They beg. I wonder how many people Blake has lorded over, pulling strings and promises from people’s lips until she has all the power. I’d walk out if there was any other way to help Evangeline, but there’s not. Without the contract in place, Evangeline is out of luck, I’m back to being noise lost amongst a million trades, and Mel is in danger of being snapped up by Robert. That’s not even touching on whatever is going on with Gen and Prism.

  I pull in a deep breath. “Because I need Prism to get to the stars and Prism needs me.”

  “Prism does not need you,” Blake hisses.

  “Prism has a reputation, and for the general populace, it’s not a good one,” I start. Evangeline stiffens next to me. “The general populace is catching on. If Evangeline or Robert offers to help someone with their dream, people get suspicious. They talk.”

  I have no clue if any of this is true. Gen could have been exaggerating, and her info is what I’m pulling from. But I need to make myself seem valuable to Prism. I hope the rest of the lie lands.

  “However, my job allows me access to people who trust me. They trust that I can help them with their bots and allow me access to their homes, their jobs, and their companions.” I point to Az with the last word. “I’m flesh and blood that Prism needs. I don’t look out of place in ‘Cuse because I’ve been bright my whole life. I know how the general populace lives and works. I’m not removed from it all like those within Prism.”

  Blake considers me. A slow, calculated smile spreads over her lips. “Perhaps we can work with each other. We’ll help you trade and hide information that would stop you from achieving your dream. You do small tasks for us.”

  My teeth clench, shoulders drawing tight. This was planned. Orchestrated to get to this point. Not by Evangeline, judging by how rigid her posture is, but by Blake. And the worst part is, I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be aware of it.

  I need that information hidden. No matter what. We’re both aware of it. I tried to grasp some of the power in this situation and fell right into Blake’s trap by offering myself up for the sacrifice. And in perpetuating the trades instead of giving me the cost outright, Blake can use me for longer.

  But Prism holds the solution to get to the stars. Somehow, Prism possesses the ability to hide my medication use and my illnesses. Get me higher valued trades.

  I meet Blake’s hard gaze. Those ember eyes bore into my soul and demand it to ignite into a fury of want.

  “Do I get to say no if I don’t like what you’re asking me to do?”

  Blake chuckles, sharp and guttural. “Sure, but your trade may fall through then.”

  Touché.

  Evangeline refuses to meet my gaze. This is my decision and mine alone.

  The slugging beats of my heart threaten to pound through my ribs. This is a terrible idea. It’s the first time in a year I’ve felt alive. Had hope for the future. If I’m honest with myself, I’m hungry for this. Starving for something that reeks of poor decisions that makes me feel human and not a broken shell.

  Gen is going to kill me.

  I purse my lips. “Fine.”

  Blake crosses her arms. “Good. Would have been a shame if this had been all a waste of time. That’s something to keep in mind, Jacquelin. I don’t like having my time wasted.”

  I swallow. “Understood.”

  “Evangeline, you have my permission to proceed with the contract.” Blake waves us out.

  Evangeline nods and leads me out. Shell-shocked, I step into the hallway and into the elevator.

  When the elevator doors close, Evangeline breathes out a huge sigh. “That went about as well as expected.”

  My shoulders could crush a walnut; they’re pulled so taut. It’ll take me until I’m home to relax after dealing with Blake. “Blake is…interesting.”

  Evangeline smiles, a small thing that withers without her usual confidence. “That’s one word for her. She’s not warm in any case.”

  The elevator dings, spilling us into the entrance hall. “Are you all right? You were so stiff. Like you were grounding yourself for a lightning strike.”

  Evangeline leads the way, face obscured by the wave of her hair. Hiding whatever pain lurks under the polished exterior. “I’m fine. Nothing I’m not used to.”

  We cross over the seal, and I pause, reading it. In the darkness, hope grows. Uplifting words, but there’s a malice lurking there. For hope to flourish, it must be hidden from society.

  “Jaqs?” Evangeline asks from the door. Neon lights skip off wet streets behind her, reflecting in her white hair.

  “What would have happened if I had said no to Blake?”

  Evangeline breaks my gaze, staring at her feet. She shrugs. “Not much.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” I say, crossing over the seal and meeting Evangeline at the door. Her eyes meet mine, and the tightness there is laid bare. The hurt. The worry.

  “You wouldn’t have been the first to resist.”

  “And what would have happened to you?” I whisper.

  Evangeline’s smile is small. Her eyes sad. “I would have given up hope.”

  Hope of escaping. Evangeline would have been buried in the darkness.

  I tentatively take her hand. She links our fingers together. “We’re in this together. Until the end.”

  Evangeline squeezes my hand. “Thank you, Jaqs. I don’t think you know how much that means.”

  We walk out into the street to order a car, fingers still linked.

  The easy step is over.

  Time for the hard part to begin.