I hope he won’t notice the way my fingers tremble as I hold out my hand, or the clammy sheen of my skin. He pricks my forefinger. The capsule fills with my blood and he extracts the needle. I suck the living red bead on my fingertip while he caps the needle, plugs it into a small port in the side of his phone and lays it on the table. I cannot take my eyes from the screen, waiting for an alarm to ring out. I’m breathing too fast, too shallow.

“Shortly, Mr Nelson will supply you with a tracker that will allow us to study the early development of your signal over the coming weeks. This is best pre-Orientation while mass exposure to other active signals is low. It allows for the most uncorrupted analysis. Such data is invaluable to my research. However, it is a risk for you and you may refuse, in which case this will become an Extraction and we will take you in for Orientation.”

“A risk?”

The woman, Felicity, intercepts my question with a brief glance at Tesla that borders on disapproval. “Orientation would provide you with immediate training,” she says. “Resources, education and counselling to support your adjustment to your new life, improving your chances of survival with your next Spark. Delaying Orientation, there is a dire risk you may trigger with a new Spark without the advantages of being fully initiated. You have survived your first encounter but it is not a given for your next one.”

I immediately regret asking the question. Will it sound suspicious if I don’t argue for Orientation, like I have an agenda?

“Thank you, Felicity,” Tesla says, a pinch at the corners of his mouth. “That is why we keep Early Detection Studies to a two week period to limit the risk involved. The data provides us with up-to-date insight into the acceleration of the synthetic gene. Perhaps your aunt has explained to you that each generation produces new anomalies. In order to find successful Deactivation pathways we must understand the new strands of the synthesis.”

I nod thoughtfully, like (a) I have a clue what he’s talking about, and (b) I’m giving my choice consideration. “Does it work? Deactivation? Are there really people like us who’ve been cured?”

Tesla exhales and his frown notches in while Felicity looks pleased that I’ve asked. With an abrupt upwards movement, he rises to his feet. At first I think he’s going to stalk out and summon Benjamin, aggravated by impertinent questions. Instead, he pushes his chair in and leans on the back of it, his dark eyes boring into mine. “There is no cure. There is remission. It is a difficult process but eligible subjects who commit to the course of treatment may reach remission.”

It takes all my willpower not to look at Jamie.

Tesla turns away from me and paces slowly to the back door, staring out the window into the Border Forest, hands clasped behind his back. “Each new Asset is tested and matched against the database. If two Shields produce an active counter-signal, they may act as Coolers for one another, assisting the process of Deactivation.” His head swivels, presenting the profile of his face only. “Mr Gallagher could explain it to you.”

Clearly he’s not happy with Jamie, but all I can think is Helena.

Helena.

I hate Helena.

“There could be someone with a signal that counters yours,” he says.

“Counsellor Tesla,” Felicity says. “You ought not to give the girl false hope. The cases are extremely rare.”

He turns his face towards the forest, his broad back straight as a steel rod. “That is why this research is vital. We hope for a breakthrough that will make the process accessible to more of us.”

The bandwidth throbs with a mournful note that moves right through me. I can’t tell if I’m producing it or if it’s Miriam, pale and still beside me. It fills me with an inexplicable longing and grief, Jamie pulsing at the centre. He still won’t meet my gaze. I will not cry.

No one speaks.

Finally Tesla turns. “Your aunt and your friend have violated directive to assist you, Evangeline.”

Violated.

The word makes me light-headed. “They were just trying to help.”

“While it benefits our current course to have you pre-informed about the organisation, it does not outweigh the seriousness of such a breach in protocol. Whatever their reasons, they will face consequences for their actions.”

“That’s not fair.” It’s barely a whisper, and they’re the lamest words in existence. I want to curl into a ball.

Tesla draws near the table. “We understand the temptation for active relatives who recognise the symptoms of Priming in a loved one. But interference is mostly misguided and often dangerous. Assets can find themselves in a disturbed state of mind post-Spark, a hazard to themselves and others. If they have not been killed by the Stray, we tend to collect new Shields from jail cells, hospitals or hiding places – that is if they have not taken their own life.”

“Suicide?” The idea winds me. As traumatising as it’s been, transitioning and enduring Kitty’s experience, the thought of taking my own life has never once entered my head. I look at Miriam but she frowns at the tabletop. Jamie keeps his unreadable eyes on Tesla. Have they felt like this, alone in their terror, desperate and despairing to the point of considering ending their lives?

“It happens,” Tesla says, leaning on the back of his chair. “After the loss of the first Spark, new Assets will often become very depressed, especially in the case of accidental death.”

“Accidental death?”

It’s Felicity, her expression full of warning, who answers. “When a Shield kills their Spark by mistake.”

I cover my open mouth.

“It is one of the main reasons we bring the Asset in on immediate detection,” she says.

I had always despised the Affinity Project’s policy of taking Shields regardless of whether they have an active Spark but now I’m not sure. Obviously, Felicity thinks it’s too risky, me staying and delaying Orientation.

“An Extraction would protect you and those around you,” she says and Tesla starts pacing again. Pretending not to notice, Felicity presses on, “Hence, Mr Davis’s consternation regarding the change in protocol.”

“It is your choice to make,” Tesla turns to face me. “But you must make it now.”

Choice. Not a word I associate with Affinity.

I hope my decision will be read as self-sacrifice as opposed to me dodging Orientation. “I guess, if it’s for the greater good and all.”

“I need a clear yes,” Tesla says.

“Okay, yes.”

HARVEST

Tesla remains cool but there’s a hint of triumph or relief in his posture and he unclasps his hands. “I realise the conditions are not the best, but a Harvest is required at this stage. Felicity is a Conductor. She will be able to give us a clearer indication of your signal strength. The reading we take now will help us interpret your data over the coming weeks.”

Felicity draws herself up, as though steeling herself.

Conductor.

Terror dries my mouth. The hope I felt in the gift of unexpected time evaporates. How can I protect my secrets? Miriam warned me about the Project’s team of Harvesters and the danger of trying to conceal the truth.

Tesla pulls out his chair for Felicity so that she can sit closer to me. I shoot a desperate look at Miriam. Her deep brown eyes drill mine, but I’m too anxious to sense if she’s trying to reassure or warn me. What can I do? Refuse? A sure-fire red flag I’ve got something to hide.

Tesla produces a small metal container from his satchel. Inside are four coin-sized pads of gauze. Each one blinks red with what appears to be a tiny computer chip embedded in the fabric. He takes one, peels off an adhesive seal and presses the pad to Felicity’s left temple. He takes another and sticks it to the inside of her right wrist.