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She spread her hands apart, and an image appeared between them. It was of him, laughing at her. He looked happy, relaxed, delighted. Seeing it had the same effect as someone throwing a bucket of ice water over his head.
“You recorded me?” he demanded. “You can do that?”
“Sure. Everyone who’s implanted can record for personal use.” She tapped the space below her eye. “The camera in my lens can record or take photos. It isn’t capable of the kind of resolution the cameras on a reporter’s drone can achieve, but it’s good enough for taking notes or making memories. It’s a standard function on a basic lens. Don’t yours do that?” Her nose scrunched as she frowned at his eyes, as if she could gauge what comm lenses he wore.
This wasn’t the time to share that he didn’t have any lenses in his eyes or, for that matter, any tech implanted in his body at all. In the territories, if a person didn’t have implants, then they didn’t belong. Even government mandates demanded that newborns were implanted within days of being born. It was the bare minimum for survival. The only people who didn’t have implants were either visitors from outside of the territories or criminals and terrorists who’d had their implants removed.
“You can’t keep photos of me in your databanks. It’s too dangerous—for both of us. I can’t have my image getting out there.”
She laughed at him. “I’d say after that news chopper pinned us to the ledge with its spotlight, that ship has sailed.”
He looked down at the transparent image playing in the air between her hands. She had a point. “Have you recorded my team, too? Did you record our conversations?”
“Not intentionally, but there might be something in there.”
“When we get somewhere safe, you need to go through your data and eliminate all references to my team. Any information you have stored is dangerous to us.”
“Nobody knows it’s there.” It was clear she thought he was overreacting.
“When we get out of here, CommTECH will debrief you. That’s standard procedure. What’s to stop your boss from getting hold of the data in your head?”
“Me, that’s what will stop her. She has no right to access my personal data storage chip without my permission. It’s a matter of privacy.” The image blinked out, and Keiko folded her arms.
Was she really that naive? Did she really have that much faith in her company? “What happens when Miriam has someone strap you to a table and download your data, whether you like it or not?”
Her eyes narrowed. “She wouldn’t do that. That only happens to criminals. You need a court order to mine someone’s implant without their permission.”
Unbelievable. Was she really that clueless about who she’d been working for these past few years? “Think about it for a second. Who runs the courts? The government. And who is the government? CommTECH. Trust me when I tell you that Miriam Shepherd would have no problem at all getting all the paperwork she needed to do whatever the hell she wanted to do to you. I’ve seen the bodies to prove it.”
With a shake of her head, she took a step away from him. Probably the most sensible thing she’d done since they’d met. “You sound like one of those obsessive conspiracy theorists who hack the media network to spread their beliefs. You’ve been listening to Freedom’s propaganda. CommTECH is the good guy. Look around you. CommTECH is under attack. We’re the victims in this.”
“So your parents are wrong? They’re part of this conspiracy against CommTECH, too? Because they sure as hell don’t think the company is as pure as the driven snow.”
“Leave my parents out of this. You’ve done enough damage where they’re concerned. CommTECH—Miriam—would never do anything so awful as forcibly remove my implanted data.”
Mace lost his patience. “Do the good guys set up illegal mines in coalition countries and rape them of their resources? Do the good guys hunt down an innocent woman, just because she accidentally saw something she shouldn’t have? Something they didn’t want to be made public? Do the good guys rush a datachip into development when they know it will kill its host
s? Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of hosts. You’re deluded, princess. Miriam Shepherd and the rest of CommTECH don’t give a damn about your personal space or your rights. If she wants something you have, she will reach out and take it, and she won’t give a flying fuck about the consequences. Because she’s untouchable. She’s judge, jury, and executioner in this territory. And nothing—not even her precious press secretary—will stand in the way of her getting what she wants.”
“Will you just stop lying to me?” she shouted. “I work with Miriam day in, day out. One of my closest friends is a scientist in this research facility. If any of these things were going on, I’d know about them.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Because if you did, you’d be dead already.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. If she wasn’t naive, then she was willfully ignorant. “Forget it. Okay? Do your magic with the screens. I need to see what’s happening in the building.”
“CommTECH helps people,” she said stubbornly as she faced the panel. “We provide education and jobs. We develop tech that makes the world a better place. I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but you’re wrong. I know everything that’s going on in this company. I’m the one that has to put it all into layman’s terms for the public. Don’t you think I would notice if they were breaking laws left, right, and center?”
“Honestly, I don’t think you’d notice unless it slapped you on the face. People like you, people on the privileged inside, only tend to see what they want to see. Now turn on the screens.”
With a glare, she inserted the tip of her index fingernail into a slot on the panel, and the screens sprang to life.
“Abigail would tell me if a dangerous datachip was about to be released,” she pointed out stubbornly.
“Abigail specializes in lenses, not datachips,” Mace said. “And from what I’ve seen of her, I doubt she notices anything outside of her own expertise.”
For the first time in their argument, he could see doubt in her eyes. “She isn’t that clueless,” she said, but her words lacked conviction.
“Delete everything you have stored on your datachips that has anything to do with me or my team,” he repeated. “I don’t have your faith in CommTECH, and I want the risk gone.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t want anything to do with you in my head, either. Consider it done.” Lifting her chin, she turned away from him.
