The woman moved smoothly towards them, her gait almost unnatural, too effortless. Like a robot, Vivian thought. Maybe she was a robot – it wouldn’t be beyond a company like this. Perhaps if you stabbed her silk-clad arm she would bleed blue.

‘We cannot discuss individual trials, Ms Mackenzie.’

‘My daughter is on it!’ Vivian spoke very clearly for the camera. ‘It is taking place on St Dunstan’s Island and I can no longer get in touch with her.’

The woman sighed. ‘You will find your phone has been blocked. Any filming on these premises is rather difficult, I’m afraid.’

Vivian glanced at Delia who was jabbing her finger at the screen of her phone and swearing imaginatively.

‘Ing Enterprises is a respectable and well-established technology company.’ The woman smiled again, baring her neat little teeth. ‘The company pays its taxes in full, has a happy and contented workforce and quietly helps this country, and many others, to smoothly operate a variety of technological systems. It has a charity foundation and a community outreach programme—’

Vivian opened her mouth, but the woman continued without pause.

‘Your ire, Ms Mackenzie, is mistakenly directed and will be tolerated no longer. Please bear that in mind.’

Vivian and Delia were being backed towards the door.

‘Are you threatening me?’

The woman sighed. But she managed to even make that seem benevolent.

‘We do not threaten, Ms Mackenzie. We never have the need.’

She smiled a perfect smile with perfect little teeth. Vivian was about to say something, to take control of the situation, which was oozing out of her grasp like caramel but then they were at the door, which opened for them with an eager whoosh and she was about to open her damn mouth but the guards were in the way and all too quickly …

… they were outside again.

The two women stared at each other.

Delia jerked her head to get her glasses to fall back onto her nose, began to say something, changed her mind and sighed.

Vivian had always liked this bit. Women like her had done what they needed to do to shake society up a bit. They had paved the way for these younger people, and the paving had involved dust and muck and getting your hands dirty. The sheer chaos of it all, the shouting, the protests, running and struggling and the brilliant feeling of doing, of getting something done. Activity. She’d known what to do and where she fit in.

The two of them stood on the pavement, Delia waiting for Vivian to take charge as she normally did.

But it was cold out on the street and it had been a long day and for a moment, all Vivian wanted to do was sit down and get a coffee somewhere where they had huge squashy sofas. And she nearly would have done, but, luckily, the familiar fury came streaking in once more, clearing her mind to a blazing white.