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of candy from her pocket and offered one to Eva.
    “Toffee?” she said.
    “No, thank you.”
    “Has your headache cleared?” The woman unwrapped a candy and popped it in her mouth.
    Eva’s mouth slipped easily into its habitual benign smile. “Yes, thank you. And you can tell them that I’m looking forward to my trip.”
    The woman nodded her head.
    “Good, good. Don’t forget, if you’re ever feeling down, just give us a call.”
    “I will.”
    “That’s good, Eva. Don’t forget, everyone needs a little help from Social Care now and again. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
    “I know. It’s what I pay my taxes for.”
    “That’s right, it’s what you pay your taxes for.”
    The woman bent to retrieve her shopping, then lurched to her feet and made her way farther down the coach. Eva watched her activate her phone and begin to report back on their encounter.
    The Lite Train glided up a ramp between tall glass walls and came to a halt in the mezzanine of a major building. Eva saw a woman in a dark suit chatting with a man who looked a little like DeForest and she wondered what it would be like to work in a place like this. The view slid sideways as the Lite Train moved out from the station. Eva felt butterflies awaken in her stomach. The next stop was hers. As the Lite Train plunged underground on its way to Empire Station, Eva held her bags tightly and took a deep breath.
     
    The clerk spoke without looking up from his screen.
    “Good morning, Eva.”
    “Good morning.”
    “I see you’re traveling to Marseilles. The train leaves in ten minutes. Shall we go through the formalities? Can I see your e-card?”
    “Certainly.”
    Eva fumbled in her bag. She frowned, then fumbled again.
    “I’m sure it was here earlier. Just a moment…”
    Her fumbling became more frantic, then she paused and began to go through her pockets.
    “I know I had it earlier. I used it to pay for my magazines.”
    She began to search in her bag again. The clerk looked on complacently.
    “Look,” said Eva, “do I really need it?”
    The clerk looked as if he was trying to stifle a yawn. “I’m sorry, Eva, but the e-card is your guarantee of security and identification. It’s essential if you travel abroad.”
    “But you know who I am. You knew as soon as I walked into this room. This whole city is riddled with biometric scanners.”
    “I’m sorry. I don’t make the rules.”
    Eva clenched her fists in simulated rage. “They’re stupid rules. Listen. I had my card earlier in the Information Shop. Can’t you contact them? If it’s there, they could courier it across.”
    The clerk gave a sympathetic smile. “I’ll see what I can do.” He leaned forward and tapped a few keys on his console.
    A few minutes later the indicator board announced that the Marseilles train had just departed. From the outside, Eva appeared angry and frustrated to the point of tears. Inside, she was delightedly congratulating herself on her performance.
     
    Eva fiddled and worked at Brewster’s arm as the stopping train pulled out from the station. A Panacetamol dropped into her hand and she slipped it into her mouth while pretending to cough.
    “Where are you going?” asked the woman sitting opposite.
    “Marseilles,” mumbled Eva, her mouth dry from the pill.
    “That’s nice. I’m off to Paris, myself. I’m Nuala, by the way.”
    “Eva,” said Eva, holding out her hand. Nuala shook it.
    “Are you okay, Eva? You look a little flushed?”
    “Just tired. I missed my train. I feel so stupid. I think I’m going to try to sleep.”
    “Good idea.”
    Hugging Brewster in her arms, Eva curled up on the seat. The grey evening skyline flicked by outside the window. She began to fiddle again at the little loose seam under Brewster’s right arm. All those nights, lying in bed, pushing white pills into her teddy bear. Saving them up against this day. She pulled out another pill and swallowed it.
    She knew they monitored her apartment;