I waited in my dormitory for Harvey’s daily visit. Despite what I knew of Vault protocol, his visits had not proved daily yet. He hadn’t come that morning or afternoon, though I’d heard him in the hall a number of times. He’d never come the day before, when the proper morning had begun. What I knew of real people’s behavior gave me hope that now, because of my intrusion in the sitting room, he would be obliged to. He was, after all, my Banker.

“I’m sorry for yesterday,” he said.

It seemed one moment he’d not been there and the next he was. I wondered if somehow I’d managed to slip into a dream with my eyes wide open; otherwise how could I have watched the door so intently and yet been surprised to see him standing there.

“Why didn’t you come? I thought because I made you uncomfortable.”

At that he blushed, and on his skin, it was all the more apparent.

“Why should you make me uncomfortable,” he both asked and stated, walking farther into the dormitory and running a hand over his hair. “No, I was held up elsewhere.”

It was the first time I’d been lied to by a man, that I knew of, and I felt it must mean something. What surprised me most was that while he was the one being dishonest, I somehow was the one made to feel small and uncertain.

“How did I do?” I asked, after balling my fists against the threat of cowardice. When he only looked on quizzically, I was forced again to speak explicitly. “On my exam, the night I arrived. Am I expiring now?”

“No, Dolores.” Though he used that name, it was softened by the concern in his voice and by the way he stepped in my direction. “Not that we can tell.”

A shudder of relief sent my hand to my chest as though I could hold myself together.

“Did something make you think you were?”

“She didn’t say,” I said of the nurse. “She didn’t speak a word to me after you left.”

“She wouldn’t be accustomed to talking to Mems or having them talk back.”

“But you are?”

Instead of replying, Harvey’s lips rested, his face unreadable again. While male actors on-screen tended to gesticulate and pantomime—sometimes wildly—by comparison the Banker was impressively reserved. I was never sure of his thoughts, even when he spoke.

“Professor rarely took my photo anymore, not with the examination equipment. He knows my skin by heart and my Source’s too, so it’s been some time since I’ve seen Dolores and I compared. We were the same shade when I was extracted, did you know?”