The light dims, the walls of glass shimmer like they’re filled with liquid.

“Proxy?” I say with Felicity’s voice.

Nothing happens.

“Child?”

The black glass flickers then instantly all three walls transform. Each one displays a confusing mass of pearling shadow. Finally, an image erupts on the screens: a woman’s face, distorted, razor-edged in some places, bleeding colour in others.

There’s another sharp tug on my wrist. My eyes open on the warm light of Miriam’s kitchen. Ears ringing, dazed by the voices and jostling around me, I come to. It takes me a moment to figure out what’s going on. Miriam has hold of my wrist and Jamie restrains my shoulders. Tesla props Felicity up in her chair. Pale and sweating, her breathing ragged. Her wide black pupils retract, returning colour to her irises, but the look of shock remains. “She can Harvest.”

IMPLANT

Miriam releases her grip and sits back. Jamie lets me go and returns to his chair. Everyone breathes heavily like there has been a brawl while I was under. My joints are jelly and I sway in my seat.

“You’re bleeding,” Miriam says.

I sniff to stop the warm ooze of blood, bringing my knuckle to my nose. Miriam grabs the tissue box from the windowsill. I press a handful of tissues to my nostril, tipping my head back.

Miriam fills a glass at the sink and brings it to me, closing my hand around it, then she sits and exhales through her lips. “Her abilities are very advanced,” she says.

Tesla looks at each of us, his frown still buckled tight, and I brace for a reprimand like he caught me fighting on school grounds, but he nods. “Not an exaggeration.”

I blink at the sharp definition of details. My pupils must have dilated with the let-down of adrenaline. I blink, trying to readjust.

Miriam pats my hand. “They’ll come right.”

I try to slow my breaths but I can still see the little girl floating in the tank and the young man strapped to the chair in the room of black glass, his terror. Nausea lingers with the image. I don’t want to look at Felicity or feel bad for invading her thoughts. I don’t care if she’s offended or if she feels judged. I don’t care what the Affinity Project thinks about me at all … or at least I don’t want to care. I force myself to meet her gaze but the accusation and hostility I expect doesn’t show in her face. She appears exhausted and lost, like she has no idea where to begin. My chest tightens. What has she read in my signal? Is it bad? Is there something wrong with me?

The irony of worrying about whether or not I’m enough of a freak for the freak show. I sit back, hating my desperate curiosity.

“Felicity?” Tesla prompts.

She looks at me and my gaze goes to her pale hand. Keeping her expression even, she withdraws both hands from the table. “If I didn’t know you were new,” she says, her voice husky and soft, “I would assume you had been active three or four years.”

A chair scrapes. Miriam gets to her feet, her mouth opening and closing. She runs her hand up into her hair and turns away to the counter. Jamie finally looks at me, his brow knotted.

“What?” I say, feeling truly nauseous now. “Is – is that bad?”

“Uncommon,” Tesla says, staring.

“How long does she have?” Miriam asks, watching Tesla, her expression fierce.

“For what?” My voice goes high. “How long do I have for what?”

“If her DNA locks, there’s no chance for Deactivation,” Miriam says.

“What – what do you mean, lock?”

Tesla doesn’t answer, caught in Miriam’s glare.

“For ninety-eight per cent of Assets that is decided the moment they Spark,” Felicity says to Miriam, impatience in her voice. She looks to me. “It takes around five active years for a third-generation Shield to reach full maturity and then it sets.”

“Five years?” I say. “If you’re normal?”

Felicity sighs. “There are many variables, but few fully matured Shields can Harvest at will. It is the rarest gift.”

Gift. That word again, absurd and provoking.

“We are not unsympathetic,” she says, though there isn’t much sign of sympathy. “We understand that the transition experience is a traumatising one. Denial, anger, rejection, these are common feelings for the newly Sparked Asset, the need to feel like you have options. During Orientation you will process these feelings and come to appreciate the benefits of your gift and the prospect of a productive and satisfying life. This is why the Affinity Project exists, to assist you in the journey.” It’s like she’s taken the lines from a propaganda manual.

No one speaks. I can feel Miriam almost vibrating next to me. Tesla’s piercing gaze feels charged. “Your niece is in the system now. If there is a counter-signal match, that person will be found.”

She barely nods.

“Mr Nelson, we are ready for you.” Tesla speaks into the air, spurring my pulse into frenetic tripping. I glance at the black half-moon disc and brace for pain, but Tesla goes to the back door and waits. “The tracker you will receive is similar to the ones your aunt and Mr Gallagher are carrying, but it is specifically designed for the purposes of collecting data.”

We hear the beeping of the van reversing from the street, down the slope of the drive beside the house. I wonder if they will need to bring in much equipment and whether it will hurt badly and whether I will disgrace myself by crying out. I wonder if my face is as drained of blood as it feels.

“Also, we will need to Neutralise you,” he says, growing more stern. “We have no record of unplanned pregnancy in your file, which is something. While almost all Strays are male, only female Shields can pass the Stray mutation on to their offspring. Now that you have transitioned, intercourse and reproduction become inevitable and dangerous.” He glowers at the back of Jamie’s head. “It is a temporary measure that will stop your cycle, but it will prevent complications.”

I imagine my face changing colour from white to red like Christmas lights. I’m too grossed out to rejoice at the thought of no more weekly power-periods. Can Tesla tell there’s something going on between Jamie and me? I wonder exactly how “gynaecological” the procedure will be? I picture myself lying on the dining table with Benjamin poised between my knees, armed with a lethal metallic instrument, the guy called Davis scowling over his glowing baton and Jamie murdering them both.

“Neither procedure is particularly invasive,” Tesla says, again hitting on my concerns. “For the sake of expedience a local anaesthetic will manage the pain so we can continue our debriefing.”

Van doors open and close outside. Heavy boots grind gravel. Low voices rumble. Benjamin leads the way up the back steps and Tesla opens the door for him, Davis following behind. Chill air gusts into the room and their signals hit me. I have to concentrate to pull back from the bandwidth, but it’s easier this time. I shudder at the sight of the black case Benjamin carries. It seems heavy, though there is no sign of strain in his hold. He slides it onto the counter behind Tesla and taps a key code. A click and the lid rises.

“Tell us about your Spark,” Tesla says, returning to the table. Felicity slips back into her seat and Tesla resumes his place, opening a new app on his phone to record me. “When did it happen?”

I have to tear my gaze away from the screen. “Um … end of August.”

“Two months.” He exchanges a look with Felicity. “The Warden came through here beginning of September.”

Miriam shifts in her seat. “We hid Evie.”

The confession deflects attention away from me for a moment and I stare at the black case and Benjamin’s hands moving over the contents, the pinker flesh of his palms, his deft touch, the implements set in the moulded insert of the lid. What lies hidden in the bottom?