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<p>Page 10.</p>
<p>I was carried from the limo to the
underground synth lab by Carl. Carl was a Better Future security
guard who had long carried a grudge against me for reasons I didn&rsquo;t
understand. He was not happy about carrying me to the synth labs. I
wasn&rsquo;t thrilled about it either, but I had the good manners not
to make it obvious. Carl bore me through the white corridors like I
was nuclear waste, his head half-turned away.</p>
<p>Once we passed through the unrestricted
areas, Cassandra Cautery, the pint-sized lawyer who had grilled me at
the hospital, materialized and fell into step beside me. Or beside
Carl, I guess. He was the one stepping. &ldquo;Well played.&rdquo;
Her lovely, poisonous scent drifted over me. &ldquo;By returning to
work, you provide yourself with opportunity to document the extent of
your incapacitation, while demonstrating a good-faith desire to
continue employment.&rdquo; She looked at me for the first time. &ldquo;But
it won&rsquo;t matter. I&rsquo;m going to crush you.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Carl stopped at an elevator. My head
was positioned uncomfortably close to the doors, but Carl didn&rsquo;t
care. It was probably deliberate.</p>
<p>Cassandra Cautery leaned close.
&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a reason this company hasn&rsquo;t had a public
image breach the entire time I&rsquo;ve been chief counsel for Media
Control. Do you know what it is?&rdquo;</p>
<p>The elevator arrived. Carl stepped into
it. My hair brushed the wall. Cassandra Cautery stood framed between
the silver doors.</p>
<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s because I&rsquo;m a
machine,&rdquo; she said.</p>
<p>The doors slid closed. The elevator
hummed. The floor numbers ticked lower.</p>
<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s hot,&rdquo; I said
to Carl. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think?&rdquo;</p>
<p>Carl didn&rsquo;t answer. But he
agreed, I could tell.</p>