I couldn’t feel the brisk air as I had the suit dialed up to a comfortable 72°F. I had turned off the com sys chat that had scrolled at the bottom of my helmet glass, where the yous in attendance speculated on what Jin’s announcement would be, as well as where the party was after this. Never mind that it was not yet noon on a Monday. Daiyu was conspicuously missing in the conversation. She didn’t participate often in their prattle, but my heart rate would always increase when I saw her icon appear, as my suit noted every time, much to my chagrin. We hadn’t seen each other since her gala last week.

My friends had made me go over Daiyu’s visit, the gala, and our conversations twice, although I found myself omitting minor details, such as her secret wish that her father would have another child to take her place as Jin Corp’s heir. How she had promised me another tour of her home with a smile. And in my own mind, I had gone over our interactions many times over—every inflection, every glance, every nuance—enough times that I would never admit it aloud to anyone else. She had said I seemed “familiar almost.” She obviously didn’t recognize me if she had seen my photo passed around, but I was certain that the kidnapping was ballooning within her mind, thrusting against the restraints of the memory-wipe. Would it hold? This concern I never mentioned to my friends either. They would only reassure me once more what the studies indicated, but they weren’t the ones who had to interact with Daiyu, to befriend her only to work secretly against her. They weren’t the ones who had to hold her clear and forthright gaze and not flinch away, knowing the truths that I did.

And all the lies.

More than twenty people dressed in red tunics and trousers accented in gold ran onto the plaza above us with drums and the crowd erupted in loud clapping. The drummers arranged themselves in a half circle with their drums placed in front of them. At the center stood a young man with a giant hanging drum, and he hit it with his powerful arms, a drumstick in each hand. I stood toward the middle of the crowded square, but my helmet was able to zoom in on any object within a half-mile distance. The other drummers picked up on his signal then began a powerful rhythm and beat against their own drums, hands flying so fast and in unison, they were almost a blur at times.