Thea was talking to the room. She blinked sleepily and her schedule appeared on one wall.

8 a.m.: breakfast, cafeteria, main hall

9 a.m.: welcome address

9.10 a.m.: yoga and meditation, lawn

10 a.m.: health assessment, lab 7

Noon: lunch, cafeteria, main hall

1 p.m.: Sleep School, lecture theatre

3 p.m.: break, free time

3.30 p.m.: cardio, gym studio 2

4.30 p.m.: shower, own room

5 p.m.: health assessment, lab 4

6 p.m.: dinner, cafeteria, main hall

7 p.m.: fitting of sleep monitoring equipment, own room

10 p.m.: recommended wind-down time

Sleep School sounded horrendous. For some reason, Thea could only imagine this being a room full of prone bodies and the sound of chanting as someone yelled ‘SLEEP!’ in the face of anyone who dared to open their eyes.

She’d probably got about one hour of sleep. She couldn’t blame the room: there was a bed so plush it threatened to swallow her whole as soon as she got into it. She ran a hand over the surface of her bedside table, almost expecting her fingers to sink in, so glossy was the material – too glossy – it was starting to remind her of a sick, sweaty fever sheen. The only thing in the space that wasn’t cream or white was Thea. She had her penguin pyjamas to thank for that.

As she cleaned her teeth after showering, a towel wrapped around her, she wandered over to the door. Last night, Harriet had closed the door after her as she’d left. Thea hadn’t thought about it since. But, looking at it now, the edges of it merely a pencil sketch, she couldn’t even work out how it opened – let alone try to lock the damn thing. As she was peering closely at it, it slid open smoothly and Thea found herself nearly nose-to-nose with Harriet.

Harriet stepped back sharply, her startled expression quickly replaced once again by a smile.

‘Ah, good morning, Thea. I see you are already up and awake. Perhaps … put on some clothes?’ She held out a stack of neatly folded material.

Thea reddened and clutched at her wet towel.

‘I was trying to work out how the door opened.’

‘There is a biometric sensor – just there.’ Harriet pointed to a spot on the wall that looked exactly the same as the rest. ‘Just look at it and the door opens.’

‘How does it lock?’

‘Lock?’ A crease appeared between Harriet’s perfectly symmetrical brows. ‘A lock isn’t needed, Thea. The same biometric device is on the outside of your door. Only those with clearance have access to your room. Completely safe.’

The smile intensified.

‘Now, the clothes?’

There was a flowing tunic top and trousers in a soft, stretchy material accompanied by a pair of fur-lined moccasins. Her mother would feel vindicated, Thea thought, because there was no way around it – they were cult clothes.