She grasps his arm. "Karl, those chemicals keep you from spazzing out every time you go outside. You fuck with this stuff, you're risking a seizure as soon as the 'lock floods."

"I have been fucking with it, Lenie. You see any change in me that isn't an improvement?"

She doesn't answer.

"It's all about action potential," he tells her. "Your nerves have to build up a certain charge before they can fire—"

"And at this depth they'd fire all the time, Karl, please—"

"Shh." He lays a gentle finger on her lips but she brushes it away, suddenly angry.

"I'm serious, Karl. Without those drugs your nerves short-circuit, you burn out, I know—"

"You only know what they tell you," he snaps. "Why don't you try working things out yourself for once?"

She falls silent, stung by his disapproval. A space opens between them on the pallet.

"I'm not a fool, Lenie," Acton says, more quietly. "I just reduced the settings a bit. Five percent. Now, when I go outside it takes a bit less of a stimulus for my nerves to fire, that's all. It...it wakes you up, Len; I'm more aware of things, I'm more alive somehow."

She watches him, unspeaking.

"Of course they say it's dangerous," he says. "They're scared shitless of you already. You think they're going to give you even more of an edge?"

"They're not scared of us, Karl."

"They should be." His arm goes back around her. "Wanna try it?"

It's as though she's suddenly outside, still naked. "No."

"There's nothing to worry about, Len. I've already done the guinea pig work on myself. Open up to me and I could make the adjustments myself, it'd take ten minutes."

"I'm not up for it, Karl. Not yet, anyway. Maybe one of the others is."

He shakes his head. "They don't trust me."

"You can't blame them."

"I don't." He grins, showing teeth as sharp and white as eyecaps. "But even if they did trust me, they wouldn't do anything unless you thought it was okay."

She looks at him. "Why not?"

"You're in charge here, Len."

"Bullshit. They never told you that."

"They didn't have to. It's obvious."

"I've been down here longer than them. So's Lubin. That doesn't matter to anyone."

Acton frowns briefly. "No, I don't think it does. But you're still leader of the pack, Len. Head wolf. A-fucking-kayla."

Clarke shakes her head. She searches her memory for something, anything, that would contradict Acton's absurd claim. She comes up empty.

She feels a little sick inside.

He gives her a little squeeze. "Tough luck, lover. I guess the clothes don't fit so well after being a career victim your whole life, eh?"

Clarke stares at the deck.

"Think about it, anyway," Acton whispers in her ear. "I guarantee you'll feel twice as alive as you do now."