‘The care coordinator is not a colonel,’ O mutters, and turns her motor back on. We have to stride out to catch up with her. ‘I’ll talk to her. Don’t worry. We can probably adjust your dosage.’

Daphne shakes hands formally with each of us when we leave her in her room. O goes off to talk to the manager and Daphne pats my shoulder.

‘Being a secret agent takes a toll on a person,’ she tells me. ‘One must be alert for encrypted communiques at all times.’

Then she deposits herself on her chaise longue and seems to fade. I can’t quite put my finger on what changes. It’s not exactly that the light in her eyes goes out, but she diminishes in some subtle way. She no longer feels present. I pull away hastily, embarrassed, as though she’s disrobed in front of me even though nothing on the surface of her has changed. I almost bump into the cleaning robot in my haste to get out. I can’t see O at first, but I hear her speaking quietly with one of the carers.

‘I’ll work on mitigating the side effects from my end,’ O is saying. ‘Meanwhile, notify me if you’re concerned.’

I swivel my head around and see the two of them conferring in a recess by the lift doors. O puts something into the carer’s hand and the carer immediately transfers it to one of those big pockets that nurses have in the front of their uniforms, for holding all their medical bits and bobs. They nod to one another. I duck out of sight – I don’t even know why, but something about their body language suggests secrecy. Maybe O is slipping the staff tips to take extra care of her sister? But that doesn’t make sense. This is a private facility, top-notch, totally professional – or am I being naive again?

My Spacetime pings. It’s Shandy.

‘I’m redecorating your channel and I need your opinion on these wallpapers.’

‘Not now, Shandy—’

‘Yes, now! You’ve got to start treating this like a proper business, Horse.’

I hate it when she calls me Horse, but she’s right about the channel. She designs virtual environments for a living and is always quick to suggest updates when anything in Spacetime is starting to look tatty.

‘OK, but make it fast.’

‘First thing. We’re changing your job title. I ran a survey and I’ve already got the domain. Your new job description is Dreamhacker. I’ve registered it with the Alternative Whatsits People as well.’

‘Council for Holistic Medicine?’

‘Thingie. You’re a dreamhacker. Don’t argue, just adapt.’

‘I don’t know, Shandy. It sounds so aggressive and . . . and technical. I’m a therapist, not a hacker.’

‘No, you’re a hacker. It will discourage the porno types, too. If you don’t trust me, I can send you the marketing numbers.’