Nothing happened. I couldn’t feel the belief, the power of the story. This was nothing but a memory, with no physical resonance—

‹Relax,› said Jeneta. ‹It worked before. It’ll work again.›

Before I could ask what that meant, Talulah announced that we were down to fifty-five seconds.

‹I’m doing the best I can here.›

‹Hold on.› Talulah reached out to touch Jeneta’s forehead, and the connection between the three of us strengthened. I felt the magic of her e-reader and the story beneath that too-smooth screen. I clung to that scene, to a spell designed to make onlookers believe you had died. I siphoned the magic into my thoughts.

‹The damage is spreading faster than I expected,› said Talulah. ‹We’re about to lose contact. You’ve got guards coming your way, Isaac. I’m going to fry your connection to the network and wake you up. Cast the spell and get the hell out of there.›

They vanished. The memories of my dorm room faded a moment later, though I could still feel the pages of the book, still see its magic crawling through my limbs. My eyes cracked open, dry and crusty. I was in a too-bright cubicle made of thick glass partitions, like an oversized museum display. Electrodes and needles porcupined my body. My limbs and torso were strapped to a chair that reminded me of the one in my dentist’s office. I seemed to be naked save for a hospital gown.

I smelled smoke. Sparks and blue flame jumped from an electrical outlet in the wall. Smoke curled out of a handful of tall, heavy-doored cabinets that resembled slender white refrigerators.

Goosebumps tightened my skin. I wiggled and tugged, trying to slide my arm free. I lost a layer of skin and torqued my shoulder, but managed to pull my right hand loose. I yanked the needles from my veins, then tugged the electrodes off my scalp.

My hair was gone. The stubble on my head felt like sandpaper. On the other hand, someone had healed the bullet wound in my chest. I suppose my hair was a fair trade for not dying.

Beyond the glass walls of my own personal containment unit, flames spread to a bank of computer equipment. Alarms blared from beyond the door, and I heard voices arguing outside. The metal door rattled in its frame. Talulah must have done something to lock it.

I unfastened the other straps, climbed from the chair, and immediately collapsed into the glass wall. After two days, my limbs were weak as softened wax. I braced myself against the chair and stumbled to the rubber-sealed door of my isolation cubicle.