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beautiful. My eyes trace his hard jawline to his lips. I try to remember what they feel like on mine, but again, there’s nothing. He looks into the camera, at me sitting here in this cold chair.
    “This is Miranda and Noah, and we’re doing an aftermission log,” Noah says.
    “Yes,” I say, “because we’re too lazy to do one by ourselves.”
    “And so we combine them,” Noah says, grinning.
    We talk about some training mission where we split into teams and had to find a snow globe by following clues across the city. Neither of us was impressed with it. Noah, our team leader, makes a few cracks about Peter, leader for the opposite team. There are only two people on a team, and we make a joke about that. We beat Peter’s team. Noah mentions the name of the black-haired girl—Olive.
    I don’t know how I could have no memory of him.
    The video ends abruptly and I flinch.
    “We think he was trying to keep you safe somehow. He took Olive, but kept you out of his plans, whatever they are. He thinks something is coming.”
    “What’s coming?” I ask.
    Dr. Tycast shrugs. “That’s your mission. To find out. Go see Peter. I’ll brief the both of you tomorrow morning.” He begins to stand but stops. Sinks back into his chair and spreads his hands flat on the table. “What happened in the mall was not your fault. For now, I need you to put it out of your mind. We will take care of the families. Do you understand?”
    Hearing the words doesn’t help, but I nod. Dr. Tycast tries to stand again.
    “Wait,” I say. “Tell me what this place is all about. Tell me what I’m for. Really.”
    He studies me while he considers his words. “You’re part of an experiment. To attain peace through chaos. You are the hope for a better tomorrow.”
    “Sounds kind of cliché, Doctor.”
    He nods. “Very. But that’s one of the sacrifices we make.”
    He finally stands up and leaves the cell, which is now just a room.
    The door stays open.

6
    It’s raining. No, pouring . Sheets of rain. A dark alley. Behind me, a sharp twang . I throw myself to the ground and feel something pass over me, tugging at my hair. A spiderweb made of wire is plastered on a brick wall twenty feet away. They’re shooting nets at me.
    I’m on my feet again and running. Another twang . Throw myself left. The net passes me, still coiled. It unfurls in midair and catches a window. The window shatters and glass bites at my clothes.
I open my eyes.
    The alley is gone, replaced by an underground corridor.
    The door to our quarters is just ahead.
    I stand there for a moment, bracing myself on the wall with outstretched fingertips. A memory? Tycast didn’t say it was impossible for them to return. I’m almost mad it couldn’t have been a quieter moment, about the people in my life. It had to be some stupid training mission.
    A training mission that felt real. Or at least the fear was real. But I guess that’s the point of training.
    The images have faded by the time I reach the big steel door, which is painted with a large rose, fully four feet tall. At the bottom, Olive signed her name in overblown, swirling script.
    I open the door to find the room from the video. A chessboard sits on the big round table, the white pieces tipped over, but otherwise it’s the same, just a reverse perspective. At the far end are a refrigerator and four small dressers, and an open door leads to what I assume is the bathroom.
    The camera is mounted high above the fridge, pointed right at me. Only now does it really hit me that it recorded me and Noah kissing. Or making out, or whatever. I guess we just... didn’t care.
    In the bottom bunk on the left, Peter is passed out on his back, one arm draped over his eyes. I watch him for a while, feeling the carpet under my feet. It’s smooth, not coarse. Peter has a tiny scar on his chin, a little white line. I stop myself from reaching over to touch it. Part of me wants to wake him up and ask about the nets. The dark alley