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try to shrink away, but there’s nowhere to go.
    “We’re doing tests,” she says, still calm. “Simply tests. But we are using a lot of government resources, on a Saturday, to accomplish these tests. And the tests must be accomplished, must be successful, before you can go home.” She pauses, studies me. “You do want to go home again, don’t you, Jacob?”
    My breath hitches. “Yes.”
    Her soulless eyes, shark eyes, are close to mine. “Because it’s possible—very possible, right now—that you stay here. That you never see your mother or your sister again.” She sits back in her own chair. “Let me show you something.”
    She props the tablet in front of me, turns it on, and presses the play button.
    It’s a video—grainy, but recognizable—of me at the party. Waiting for Caitlyn to come back with the object.
    I look awful. Wasted, slurring, hair falling into my face.
    But then Caitlyn comes back, and I tunnel to her sister.
    It’s surreal. My face goes blank and smooth. My voice is deeper, distant, as I recite the details. Even though I know what’s happening, it’s freakishly impressive. She lets the video go through the tunnel to Rachel’s dad. When I open my eyes on the screen, Liesel hits stop.
    “So if it’s proof you’re worried about,” she says, “I have proof. It’s too late for that.”
    I swallow. Too late echoes in my head. “But it was a fake—”
    “No. It wasn’t. The people upstairs have seen this already. It’s why you’re here, why I have any funding for this project, these tests. There has already been discussion of whether it is a national security risk to let you return home, with adversaries interested in you. That it could in fact be extraordinarily valuable to the national security of this country to keep you right here—or more likely, in a secure location.” She leans forward again. “I have spent considerable effort trying to convince them otherwise.”
    Mom. Myka. Home.
    “No.” I choke it out.
    She pats my leg. “I understand, Jacob. I don’t want that for you either. I believe, personally, that you would be far more useful to us if you are happy, if you are out in the world living your life, protected. If you help willingly, now, we’ll be able to do that. To keep you all safe.”
    I go very still. It sounds like she’s offering me a deal.
    She studies me again. “I want this project to succeed. I want your skills to be an asset to this country. But I need your full cooperation—and I mean full, here and in what we will ask of you in the future. If you grant us your full, willing cooperation, with all that we ask, you can return to your life at the end of the day.” She smiles, white teeth through red lips. “There is more, of course. Further details, but we’ll discuss those after the tests. The … successful tests. Do you understand?”
    It’s a hell of a deal: you’re here and we’ll lock you up forever right now—and no one will have any idea what happened to you—or do well on our tests and maybe we’ll let you out. What can I do? I can’t choose Door #1, the instant padded cell.
    “Yes.”
    “Yes, you’ll cooperate?”
    I nod, silent. I don’t want to say it again.
    “Excellent. I’ll go back to the observation room, and we’ll try this again.” She pats my arm this time. “I’m certain we will have better results.”
    The doctors come back and get all set up in their positions without a single comment. I still have the ring clutched in my hand. When Dr. Milkovich gives me the signal, I hunch over it. Close my eyes and let it come, the glow, the buzzing. I speak what I see.
    A man, middle aged. Medium height, beer belly, black-rimmed glasses. Dark, wispy hair, combed flat. Tan slacks and a doctor’s coat. Location: Arlington, Virginia. 3701 North Fairfax Drive, twelfth floor, lab 1235. He sees a bunch of squiggly pink things, outlined in a circle of light. A microscope. Without looking up, he says, “The SD CC 1b is