‘I’m press,’ I say, fingers trembling as I dangle my pass. ‘I’m with Nine News…’

The guard catches up to me.

‘Have you got a Gateway pass there?’

‘I must have left it…’ I fumble in my pocket.

‘Do you have an appointment?’ He fingers my press card without looking at it.

‘Yes,’ I say. It hardly matters that I don’t.

‘This is the lane for visitors,’ he says, pointing.

I shrug his hand off my back as I move to the desk. The man behind the counter is on the phone but arches his eyebrows at me anyway.

‘Shacklin,’ I say, clearing my throat. As if I’d forget her name even though she never once bothered introducing herself. ‘I’m here to see—’

‘Could I see your Gateway badge?’ He puts his hand over the receiver.

‘I’m press,’ I say, slipping my pass across the counter.

‘There’s nothing else on the slate for press today. What were you expecting?’

‘I’ve got an appointment to see Shacklin. That’s her name. Shacklin. If you could just tell me…’

He puts the phone down as if no one was ever on the other end.

‘…which office she’s in, I’ll head on up.’

‘There’s no Shacklin in this building,’ he says, computer screen throwing blue shadows on his face as he frowns at it. ‘With a C? Or just a K?’

I kick the wall holding the counter up as realisation starts to dawn. Like anyone’s name would ever be real in this twisted business. I scratch at my ear as the whispers start again.168

‘Can you try Pegasus? Is there anyone called Pegasus?’ I grip the sill as I hiss.

‘Pegasus? Like the horse?’ His nose wrinkles as I glare back. ‘You said you were press, right? Which outlet?’

A lump of hand appears on the counter next to me.

‘Everything alright over here?’

I twitch as the guard’s shadow falls over me. And then I shout, words tumbling from my mouth as Carly screams, deep inside my inner ear.

‘Andromeda! Why don’t you try that? Try anyone here that answers to Andromeda!’

Hands become vices around my upper arms as I twist and buck against the counter, another guard appearing to haul me into a small room next to the desk. At least I think there’s two of them. I may as well be blind for all I can actually see. There’s a thud as the door closes. And there aren’t any windows. There never seem to be any windows.

‘We’ve got a live one, boss,’ the guard says into a red telephone mounted by the door as I squirm against the hands holding me down in a chair. ‘With the press, apparently, saw the pass. No, no Gateway badge…’

‘Do that again and it’s bracelets,’ barks a female voice behind me.