My breath catches. Somehow, the idea of working with a stranger seems even more frightening than working alone.

“I don’t even look much like my sister anymore,” I say, my voice weak with protest.

“That can be changed.”

I raise a hand to my cheek, thinking of scalpels and flesh parlors.

Officer Oloyu interlinks his fingers together, leaning forward, his face starkly earnest. “So, Miss Taema Collins—are you going to join us and save your sister?”

My mouth opens, but I have no idea how to answer.

5. Taema

FIVE

TAEMA

They give me one hour to make up my mind. They can’t give me any longer. If I’m going to do it, they have to start prepping me right away, so that “Tila” isn’t out of circulation too long.

I go to Golden Gate Park, taking the MUNI. No unmarked hovercars anymore—nothing to make me stand out. For this one hour, I am not alone. The SFPD are tracking my VeriChip, watching me through camera drones. I fight the urge to hunch my shoulders, to somehow disappear from their sight. I can’t.

I go through the entrance to the glass dome that covers Golden Gate Park. Though evening is lengthening, it’s still as bright as early afternoon from the artificial light within. It’s always open, even in the dead of night. Tila and I used to come here at midnight for picnics sometimes, watching mothers with day shifts walk their babies in prams, or joggers flitting along the paths, their toned bodies covered in bright neon logos, moving adverts for sports tech. Most people have nano muscle inserts to keep them in shape these days, including me and my sister, though we also take pride in doing it the old-fashioned way, or at least making the odd attempt. I want to take off down the paths, running at full speed until my lungs burn, but I run to stop myself from thinking, and I can’t run away from my own mind, not now.

I sit under a willow tree, taking off my shoes and dipping my toes into the water of the lake. It’s quiet here, with its false eternal daylight, the wafting scent of flowers and cut grass. I search the news with my ocular implant again for a moment, closing my eyes and letting the words scroll past my darkened eyelids. Still no headline about my sister. There’s an article about the mayor of San Francisco and her bid for reelection. She smiles with white teeth from the feed. Sudice says they will announce a new product next week at the tech expo. The city is building more housing and orchard towers to meet rising demand. Nothing in the news about crimes, or the Ratel. I wonder how often they cover up what really happens in this city. If the public doesn’t find out about it, has it happened at all?