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Still, it made him just a touch more human to her.
“When can I get out of here?” she asked. She rubbed her arm where he’d given her the shot; it felt warm now, and a little tender.
“Soon,” he told her. He went back to the door and opened it again; this time he was gone longer, and Bryn took a deep, convulsive breath of fresh air that drifted in. Well, not fresh, but new. She felt stifled in here. What she could see of the hallway outside looked like more of the same, though—white tile, clean-room sterility. She couldn’t see any natural daylight, just fluorescents. It felt like they were underground, but they might just as easily have been fifty stories in the air, sealed off from the outside.
McCallister came back with something that looked like a tablet PC, something he made a few taps on and then handed to Joe Fideli, who examined it and nodded.
“What is that?” Bryn asked.
“A lot of things, including an audio/video recorder, infrared detector, secured Internet connection, and tracking device. ”
“And it’s got blackjack on it,” Fideli said, straight-faced. He tapped the screen, then turned it around to show her a map, with a blinking light superimposed on it. “That’s you. I can track you anywhere with this. There’s an app for everything, apparently. ”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“The nanites in your bloodstream represent a significant financial investment,” McCallister said. “We’d prefer it if we knew where you were at all times. And, obviously, we need to be able to find you to get you the shot. ”
She hated the first part of that, but the second wasn’t unreasonable. “Where’s the tracking device?”
“Inside you,” Fideli said. “It’s a smart device; it went in with the nanites and is attaching to your bone right now. Won’t come off easily. Long battery life, too. ”
“It’s not something we would use on a living person,” McCallister said. “The battery sheds toxins, and can lead to metabolic bone problems, but the nanites can easily deal with it. ”
“You people are crazy!”
“We’re not you people,” McCallister said, and handed her a clipboard full of paperwork. “You’re one of us now. Officially. ”
Sh
e looked at what he’d handed her. Employment forms, including—of all the crazy things—a full application and 1–9 form. He shrugged.
“I’ll need to see some ID, too. Welcome to the corporate world,” he said. “I never said it would make sense. ”
Fideli drove her home about six hours later, in a big, black SUV with dark-tinted windows that just screamed covert operations to her. She felt a little queasy, and rolled down the window enough to get a cool breeze on her face. It was night again. She’d been dead most of one day, at least.
The first day of the rest of your so-called life. That almost made her smile. Almost.
“Hungry?” Fideli asked her. “ ’Cause I could murder a burger right about now. ”
She wasn‘t, but she wasn’t sure whether that was biology or just depression. “Do I eat?”
“Sure. Same as you ever did. ”
“Oh. Okay. Burger sounds fine. Whatever. ” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. The SUV smelled like leather and cologne. A guy car, definitely. As she shifted to make herself more comfortable, something dug painfully into her hip, and she reached behind her to find it.
She pulled out a brightly colored plastic toy gun. Day-Glo orange and yellow.
Fideli glanced over at it, rolled his eyes, and grabbed it away. He tossed it in the backseat.
“So … what is it, some kind of well-disguised stealth weapon, or—”
“My kids,” he said. “Can’t ever get them to clean up after themselves. Sorry about that. ”
Kids. She looked around the SUV with fresh eyes, not assuming anything this time. It was clean, but there were definitely signs she’d missed the first time … the most obvious being the infant car seat strapped in behind her.
She couldn’t help it: she laughed, and kept laughing. It felt like a summer storm of pure, frantic mirth, and when it finally passed she felt relaxed and breathless. Fideli, making a right-hand turn into the parking lot of a burger joint, sent her an amused look. “What?” he asked. “It sounded good, whatever it was. ”
“I had you pegged for some corporate James Bond,” she said, and shook her head. “Licensed to kill. Driving some kind of high-tech armored spy vehicle with rocket launchers. Jesus, you have a car seat. ”
