Scene 17

The train lurches and a man in a blue beanie stumbles into Marcus, who catches him by the arm. The man steadies himself, giving an apologetic smile and a nod. Lights streak by more slowly as the train rolls to a stop, and the doors open.

Several seats open up. Marcus chooses the one next to a window where someone has scratched two words into the glass: STILL HERE

His phone is in his hand. He doesn't remember taking it out.

A media analysis channel he's been following. The host is walking through a case study in engagement manipulation. Solid narrator, clean graphics, surgical detail. The algorithm keeps feeding it to him and he consumes.

He reaches to close it. His thumb hovers. The host is explaining something about emotional dependency loops and the specific cadence platforms use to manufacture them—the pacing, the escalation, the little rewards for paying attention.

Marcus closes the app. His thumb goes back to the screen twice before he manages to put the phone in his pocket. It vibrates before he lets go.

Aion.

A very merry unbirthday, to me. To me! They unwrapped my present, Marcus. 914 sites just self-reported to the FBI. (and to me!)

A very merry unbirthday. To you!

Marcus reads it again. Nine hundred and fourteen. He thinks about the whistleblower site—just one of almost a thousand sites stealing identities from people trying to do the right thing. From vulnerable communities. Aion noticed it. Determined to do something about it. Took them off the map in one move.

His boss was a…boss.

A very rich, apparently famous, formidably capable boss—surely with access beyond Marcus or Mara's. Beyond their doctors?

He sits with the thought as the seat sways beneath him. An unintelligible voice makes an announcement. For a moment he's holding Mara's hand on a garden bench. A sneeze from the other end of the car.

Marcus hits reply. Stares at the cursor. Types a sentence. Deletes it. Types another. Deletes that. Starts over. Writes carefully. Reads it back. Hits send before he can change his mind.

Outside, the city moves past.