Lauren ducks, catching him over her right shoulder in a fireman’s carry. She enters his apartment, gagging at the stench as she makes her way over piles of soiled laundry and garbage.

The lights fail to activate as she enters the bathroom. ‘Computer, increase lighting.’

UNABLE TO COMPLY. FUEL CELL HAS BEEN REMOVED.

‘Emergency lighting.’

Panel strips illuminate along the ceiling and floor. The bathroom smart-mirror has been spray-painted black.

Lauren lays Kirk on the shower floor and rips the leech from his neck, revealing a series of red dots. ‘Computer, shower on, fifty degrees.’

Icy water blasts from dual nozzles, the built-in sensors targeting the unconscious teen.

Kirk moans.

‘Computer, this is Resident Assistant Beckmeyer. What is ETA of paramedics?’

SIX MINUTES.

‘Place a call to resident’s sister to meet resident at student health center.’

ACKNOWLEDGED.

Lauren looks down at Kirk. The teen’s eyes have reopened, his mood-contacts black, his flushed skin paling to blue again as his body cools off.

‘Fu … fu … fubish—’ His teeth chatter as he tries to stand.

Lauren places her foot on his chest.

‘Fuckkking … bi-itch-ssshiiit—Laureeenn!’

‘At least you got the name right.’

‘Let … m—m-me … g-g-go—’

‘Sorry, Kirk, you want to kill yourself, do it on someone else’s floor, not mine. Now sit your rainbow ass down and take it like a man … or alien, whichever you prefer.’

The paramedics arrive five minutes later.

Eight minutes later, Lauren enters her own apartment. The interior is plush and immaculate, decorated in soothing shades of gray with violet throw pillows.

She kicks off her running shoes

GOOD EVENING, LAUREN. IT IS 7:36 P.M. YOU HAVE THREE MESSAGES.

‘In the bathroom.’ She grabs a bottle of recycled reverse-osmosis water from the fridge and heads for the bathroom.

Interior lights turn on to greet her.

She sits on the toilet and urinates.

The ‘smart-toilet’ instantly analyzes her urine, while the pulse in her thigh is computed.

NO DISEASES PRESENT. YOU ARE NOT PREGNANT.

‘Thank God. Computer, play back message one.’

The image of Lauren’s father, Mark, appears on the mirror. ‘Hi, sweetheart. Nothing important, just wanted to let you know that we’re all looking forward to seeing you and Sam next weekend. Give us a flash when you get in.’

‘Computer, erase message one. Play back message two.’

Christopher Laubin, Lauren’s volcanism professor appears on screen. ‘Good afternoon, Ms. Beckmeyer. This is just a reminder that our grant selection committee will be meeting with you Monday morning at seven-thirty in Clinton Hall, Room 213. Don’t be late.’

‘I’m never late. Computer, reply BECKMEYER ACKNOWLEDGE to message two. Play back message three.’

Sam’s face appears on-screen, her fiancé calling from a cell phone. ‘Hey, babe. Sorry I’m late, but my teammates and I had to do this postgame ritual thing. I’ll be by in about twenty to fondle your breasts. Love you.’