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and
    repaired, or I could run away right now. I could get on the
    subway, take the connecting line, and try to get lost some-
    where in the Central City. Disappear.
    My hand started shaking and a high- pitched hum echoed
    through my mind. Desperate, hopeless thoughts. I straight-
    ened my body, calming the fear and panic soaring through
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    G L I TC H
    my limbs. I couldn’t stay hidden forever. Everything in the
    city required either wrist- chip or fi ngerprint access. I’d be
    found instantly.
    But then the secrets and the hiding would be over. The
    loneliness and the nightmares would go away. I wouldn’t
    be broken anymore. I would be just like everyone else, whole
    again, part of something. This was something that had to
    happen.
    I touched my fi nger to the panel to call the elevator be-
    fore I could talk myself out of it, and heard the responding
    whir of the elevator coming down the shaft. There was no
    choice, not really. I stepped into the circular white elevator
    tube and watched the door slide shut behind me.
    “Sublevel One.” My voice shook. The elevator moved but
    I could barely feel it. This was the right thing, I reminded
    myself. I was doing the right thing. I couldn’t think about my
    drawings and the beauty and the happiness and all the things
    I’d lose. When the door slid silently open, I stepped out and
    followed the numbers on the wall to Room A117.
    The door was open and light from inside spilled out into
    the hallway.
    “Greetings?” I called. “Subject Zoel Q-24 reporting.”
    “Come in,” said a deep male voice.
    I took one last deep breath and stepped over the threshold
    into the room. But then I looked around me in surprise. It
    wasn’t an exam room. It was a bedroom. There was a bed,
    desk, even ambient- light lamps instead of the ceiling light
    cells. I remembered now that the school had a wing of resi-
    dential rooms for people of importance traveling through.
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    Heather Anastasiu
    Then I saw the computer and mobile diagnostic equipment
    in one corner. Had they called in a specialist to deal with me?
    How much did they know?
    My brow must have furrowed, registering my confusion,
    because the short, round man standing in the corner said,
    “Come in. We just need to run a quick check on your sys-
    tems.”
    He was middle-
    aged with thinning brown hair and a
    sheen of sweat on his forehead. He wasn’t wearing the regu-
    lation gray but instead the black uniform and red insignia of
    offi
    cials. High- ranking offi
    cials— Class 1 and 2. This wasn’t
    just an ordinary diagnostic appointment.
    “Have a seat.” He motioned to a chair beside the equip-
    ment.
    I swallowed, trying not to let my fear show. An offi
    cial
    here for an impromptu diagnostic check. Something was se-
    riously wrong. That moment on the train platform, the boy
    with the aqua eyes— someone must have seen what I had
    done and ordered an instant deactivation. That had to be it.
    They probably wouldn’t even try to fi x me. It was all over.
    I forced my feet toward the gray chair and sat down.
    “They said you were pretty.” He smiled at me and dabbed
    at his forehead with a cloth as he came toward my chair. He
    took a small metal instrument off the equipment table.
    “Excuse me, sir?” I didn’t understand his words and I
    didn’t understand the look on his face. “Sir?”
    “Sir.” He smoothed down his sweat- slicked hair and or-
    ga nized the tools prepped and aligned on the desk. “So re-
    spectful.”
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    G L I TC H
    Involuntarily, I frowned. For some reason I couldn’t pin
    down, he made me feel uneasy. His behavior seemed anom-
    alous too, but then, I’d never met an offi
    cial before. Obedi-
    ence to offi
    cials was a Community duty. Offi
    cials couldn’t
    be anomalous . . . could they?
    I had the strangest desire to get out of the chair and run
    back down the hallway to get away from him, no matter the
    consequences.
    “You aren’t in trouble. This is all quite routine.”
    I