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now that I’m upright, noting her fitted imitation eel-skin pants, silky, airy top and custom brown boots that look brand new. From the handbag on the side-table hangs a keychain with tiny photographs in plastic casing: Grier smiling widely with friends, boys, and posing comically, all nothing like the harsh girl I see before me. I realize I’m jealous of her photos because I don’t have any. I burned all my memories a year ago.
    “Are you okay?” she asks. I shake my head and try to smile, remembering that we haven’t even properly introduced ourselves.
    “I’m fine, really,” I say. I’m waiting for her to return my smile, but instead she crosses her arms in front of her chest and frowns.
    “Then, could you please stop staring?” she snits. My instinct is to stare her down, to show her dominance in the smallest of battles, but I’m too tired for petty competition, so I return my gaze to my bed, the room, the bruise spreading on my inner elbow where the needle was inserted.
    “How long have I been sleeping?” I say. Grier sighs deeply, as if I’ve already held up too much of her precious time.
    “A few hours now. Myra wanted you to run through some VR training with me before you left, but since you blacked out, she’s being lenient and letting you wait until tomorrow after the meeting,” she replies. She paces about the room as if to show off her tightly muscled body. I resist the urge to laugh, it seems so petty.
    “Great. Tomorrow then, we can really scope each other out,” I say. She smiles, but it looks more like a challenge.
    “I’ll warn you. I’ve gotten the top scores on the latest VR modules. I might not be as easy as you think,” she says. This time I smile, and though my inner conscience quietly murmurs to leave her with her games, to be professional and just walk away, I can’t help but add in one last remark as I gather my things to leave.
    “That’s alright. I helped design them,” I say, leaving her silent as I saunter out the door, feeling a false sense of satisfaction, but at the same time recognizing the familiar tug of regret that I’d taken the low road.

    I inhale deeply when I leave the Corp building, for once enjoying the staleness of the false air. Being in the stiff and prim building only reminds me of before . I hop on the nearest streetcar and grip the steel pole tightly. A wave of memories flashes before me like nausea, and I bend over slightly, trying to catch my breath.
    I’m brought back to a lecture in Central on ethics, part of my ever-continuing training under Rupert’s command. Back then I was young and unwavering in my confidence with Elder Corp. When I think back on it, this lecture was probably the first time I started to have my doubts.
    I remember the frail old ethics professor, her stout body planted at the front of the class while the other students around me were setting themselves up to take a nap. These classes were open; meaning not only Corp personnel could take them. She had one of those weird last names that are impossible to pronounce, so instead went simply by Leslie. My guess is that’s when she initially lost the class’s respect. Still, I felt for the old woman and straightened my shoulders to pay attention each day from my seat in the back.
    I remember only a few faces in the front rows: some bubbly girls busy whispering to each other about lip-gloss or something, other Hunters with disciplined faces, and other Corp personnel looking for an easy credit to continue their contracts. Tor was supposed to take this class with me so we could have at least an hour together each day, but he bailed out at the last minute when he was given a new assignment. I was left sitting by myself, notebook ready even though I knew the Elder Corp Ethics Code by heart.
    Professor Leslie set up her projection slides and began with the brief history of Elder Corporation that everyone has heard a million times, with the obligatory statement that without the Corp,