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interrogator. In addition to hunting down evaders, the Tax Enforcement Office, or TEO, maintained a lid on subversive activities in the donor population. Many of his colleagues relied on hidden cameras, tracking drones, and scanning machines to monitor their areas. Not Nox. He relished the human touch—information gleaned from the movement of a hand, a dropped word, or, as in this case, a glint of trepidation in the eyes.
    He studied Joan for a while, as if studying a map to ascertain the best route to arrive at his destination. She was so young, only seventeen, so it should be easy. He made his decision: first the fear, then the hope.
    He said quietly and slowly, “Do you know who I am?”
    Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “I’m Captain Nox. I know who you are. I know most all the donors in this quarter. And I know all about them. You’re 23—full number, 1919723.” He uttered the long number unhurriedly, with a sacred tone. “You have an important benefactor.”
    He walked methodically back and forth in front of her, coming closer with each step. Joan looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact.
    “I’m sure you comprehend the importance of the law. You’ve learned in school how critical it is. It’s everyone’s duty to report criminals. You realize that it’s your duty?”
    He stared at Joan, just inches from her face. She swallowed.
    “Answer my question, 23,” he spoke calmly.
    Joan nodded.
    “Speak it,” he said.
    She repeated it from memory, “It is the duty of every person in the Alliance to report anyone he or she suspects is, will be, or may be, in violation of any laws.”
    She stopped, but he remained silent, so she continued, “Be ever a servant of Our Glorious Governor, and never forget that only the Alliance, acting through Our Governor, can guarantee security.”
    “Very good.”
    In truth, Nox unwaveringly believed this himself. For Nox, adherence to the law, support of the Alliance, and allegiance to the Governor were his reasons for living—as it should be with everyone.
    He paused, still staring at her. He touched her chin, turning up her face to him. His fingers extended too long for his hands. At first his eyes seemed dull and sly, and the whites of them weren’t white at all but a musty yellow. He resembled a lizard, with a long, angular head and a prominent jaw, but his lips were almost nonexistent. His unnaturally thin, gawky body appeared flattened, as if a large shoe stepped on him in the garden. Folded in front of him were his long arms. He wore his hair slicked back, in the same fashion as the Governor.
    “You’ve good fortune to live under the protection of the Alliance. It brought us safety after the Impact. It shields us from the dangers outside. Like a father, Our Governor protects you. Doing your duty means you obey the Alliance’s orders without question. You’ve learned that?”
    She nodded.
    “Your benefactor takes good care of you, doesn’t she?”
    Joan nodded.
    “What do you think your benefactor would do if she discovered you, whom she’s been supporting these years, flouted the very laws which protect you? What would she think if you did not do your duty? Think of her disappointment in you.”
    He walked over to the photo of Governor Gates, which all were required to have in their homes.
    “And what would Our Governor think?”
    Glancing at the photo, Joan felt as if the Governor himself was there, watching.
    She could barely formulate the words, “I swear, sir, Colonel Nox, sir—”
    “It’s Captain,” he said soothingly.
    “Captain, sir, I swear, I don’t know anything.”
    Her reverie ended when the man behind her in line gave her a slight shove. The line had moved, and there was gap in front of her. She picked up her bag and moved ahead.

5
    O nce inside the ghetto she breathed easier, as did most donors. In the city donors had to be on guard—always taking care of what they said and how they acted. But not here—this was their own