‘If I knew that I wouldn’t be here, would I?’ He carefully lifted one out and held it balanced on the tip of his finger. ‘I don’t know how it works – that’s not my pay level. I just read the data as it’s fed to my computer. So, welcome to Phase One.’ He gave an elaborate bow. ‘The discs will get to know you for the next two weeks and find out your sleep patterns. Then it’ll know what to do with you.’

He gently placed a disc on each temple, so gently that Thea didn’t think they would stick. She touched one gingerly and it felt rock solid. There was no pain.

‘How?’

‘Magic.’

Thea made a face.

‘How do I get the bloody things off again?’ she said, shaking her head to see if she could loosen them.

‘Well, you don’t have to worry about that right now. They’re perfectly safe and you can’t accidentally knock them off in your sleep. They slide right off when we’re done.’

He tapped away on the tablet computer he was holding. Thea imagined electric signals needling their way into her brain, meeting her blinking, beleaguered neurons and fizzing life into them, making them judder and dance.

‘So have you met him? Moses Ing?’ She poked at the discs on her temples.

Rory didn’t look up from his swiping, the screen bathing his face in a frigid glow. ‘Not yet. Won’t hold my breath. Not sure I’m important enough.’

‘I thought it would have been him greeting us on the first day, y’know, doing the speech. Not whatsername.’

‘Delores.’

‘Hmm. Seeing as it’s his invention.’

‘She’s top level at Ing Enterprises, though. Everyone’s heard of her. Scarily clever. And, y’know … scary.’

She could have said it at that point. Rory would have listened. The pale blob of a face in the monastery window where no face should be.

‘And …’ she smiled ‘… it’s not going to end up brainwashing me to … I don’t know … want to kill the prime minister when I hear an ABBA song?’

Rory laughed out loud at that and his laugh was just as she thought it would be, deep and rich, the sonic equivalent of a chocolate mousse.

‘No brainwashing. I’m pretty sure of it.’ He rummaged amongst the printouts and tiny action-figure battles on his desk, his back to her. ‘I spotted you yesterday, by the way. Thought you’d got away with it?’

Thea stopped swinging her legs. How had he seen her? He must have followed her from the Centre, all the way to the monastery—

‘Here.’ He grabbed something from the desk and offered it to her.

Blinking, Thea saw a chocolate bar in his hand.