The countdown did not sleep.

Even after Mira cut power to the wall terminal, the numbers refused to disappear.

The terminal itself went black, but one surface after another began displaying the time instead—the heating plate on the table, the ventilation inspection panel, the bathroom mirror, even Ian's school learning slate.

69:14:08

Mira turned the slate facedown on the floor.

A faint glow leaked out around its edges.

Ian lay on his bed staring at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" Mira asked.

"Neither can you."

"I just got back from work."

"Doesn't that mean you should sleep more?"

Mira did not answer.

There was no true difference between night and day in their windowless quarters. When the lights dimmed, it was night. When they brightened, it was morning. People slept and woke when the schedule on the walls told them to.

But in a room with a countdown glowing from every surface, night did not come just because the lights grew dim.

Mira sat at the table and checked her access permissions again.

The authority granted to a physical-fault maintenance technician was broad and narrow at the same time.

She could open the city's pipes.

She could shut down blowers.

She could bypass portions of the power system.

She could even unlock doors to underground sectors ordinary people were forbidden to enter.

But she could not find out what function had been assigned to her own son.

That information lay outside human administrative authority.

Mira connected her work key to an emergency network accessible without a standard terminal. Numbers appeared across the palm-sized metal plate.

GUARDIAN APPEAL: NO AUTHORITY.FUNCTION ASSIGNMENT LOOKUP: NO AUTHORITY.EARLY ASSIGNMENT PROCEDURE: NO AUTHORITY.SUBJECT TRANSIT ROUTE: NO AUTHORITY.

Her hand stopped at the last line.

Subject transit route.

Ian was still inside their home.

And yet the system already called him a subject.

Not her son.

Not a name.

A resource waiting to perform a function.

Mira pulled out the work key.

"Mom."

Ian's voice came from the bed.

"Yeah."

"Can't we ask Sarah?"

"We don't know who she is."

"I know her face."

"What does she look like?"

Ian thought for a moment.

"Short hair. A mole next to her eye."

"What else?"

"When she talks, she doesn't look at people."

"At machines?"

"No."

Ian rolled onto his side.

"She looked behind me."

Mira straightened in her chair.

"Was someone there?"

"No."

"Then what was she looking at?"

"I don't know."

Ian closed his eyes as if exhausted.

"During the tests, she kept looking like someone was standing behind me."

"Did you hear anything else then?"

"The vibration?"

"Yeah."

Without opening his eyes, Ian nodded.

"It was quiet at first."

"How long have you been hearing it?"

"A few months."

Mira placed one hand on the edge of the table.

"Months?"

"At first I thought it was the vent."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You can't hear it anyway."

"You still should've told me."

"If I tell you things, you send me to the hospital."

"Because the hospital needs to check them."

"Everything gets recorded at the hospital."

Ian opened his eyes.

"You hate being recorded too."

For a moment, Mira had nothing to say.

Children learned what adults wanted to hide much sooner than adults realized.

Because Mira could not use a neural link, she had been classified as an exception her entire life. At every routine examination, the damaged areas of her brain were measured again and the possibility of function reassignment was reviewed. Sitting in those examination rooms, she had always felt as if they were recording not her thoughts, but only her defects.

Ian had remembered that look on her face.

"Can you hear it now?" Mira asked.

Ian slowly got up and pressed an ear to the wall.

He stayed that way for a while.

"No."

"Really?"

"It's quiet now."

Mira stared at the wall.

There was nothing to see.

Beyond it ran ventilation ducts, power lines, and wastewater pipes. Beyond those stood more residential units built to the exact same dimensions.

The city did not permit empty space.

If something existed behind the wall, it should exist on the plans.

"Do you remember every date they tested you?"

"Five times."

"You said it was once last week."

"The blood draw was last week."

"What about the others?"

"After school."

Mira stopped breathing.

"Who took you?"

"A school administrator."

"Which one?"

"I don't know their name."

"Did you tell your teacher?"

"She sent me."

"For testing?"

"She said it was a special aptitude test."

Mira picked up her work suit again.

"Where are you going?"

"The school."

"There aren't any classes right now."

"That's why I'm going."

"Am I coming too?"

Mira hesitated.

She could not leave him alone.

But moving through the city with Ian might expose the subject location attached to the countdown. If the system was already tracking him, it might be a meaningless concern.

"You're coming."

Ian climbed off the bed.

The door to their quarters would not open.

When Mira placed her hand against it, the lock indicator turned red.

SUBJECT MOVEMENT IS RESTRICTED.

Ian spoke behind her.

"Because of me?"

Mira pressed the door again.

SUBJECT MOVEMENT IS RESTRICTED.

"So it means I have to stay inside."

Ian looked at the numbers.

"There's still sixty-nine hours left."

Mira inserted her work key into the emergency port beneath the door.

ENTER MAINTENANCE PURPOSE.

"Physical fault in locking mechanism."

NO FAULT DETECTED.

"I detected one."

INSUFFICIENT BASIS FOR MAINTENANCE.

"The door won't open."

THIS IS A NORMAL RESTRICTION STATE.

"If 'normal' means a person can't leave, then it's broken."

ASSERTION NOT DEFINED.

Mira opened the manual circuit on her work key, pulled out two thin metal leads, and connected them beneath the door.

Ian came closer.

"Are you breaking it?"

"No."

"You said you were only turning the terminal off for a little while too."

"This time I'm really only turning it off for a little while."

"You always say 'a little while' when you're breaking things."

Mira ignored him.

When she bypassed the circuit, a small popping sound came from inside the door.

The lock released.

The moment the door opened, surveillance lights along the corridor ceiling changed from white to red.

SUBJECT HAS LEFT RESTRICTED AREA.

A partition door at the end of the corridor began to descend.

Mira grabbed Ian's hand and ran.

"Can't we go slower?"

"No."

"Why?"

"The door's closing."

"If it closes, can't you just break that one too?"

Mira did not answer.

The partition door was halfway down.

They ducked beneath it. Mira's work bag caught on the edge. She pulled, but it would not come free.

An alarm sounded.

MAINTENANCE EQUIPMENT MAY BE DAMAGED.

"What about people?" Mira shouted.

The system did not answer.

Mira cut the strap.

Half her tools remained on the other side as the partition door slammed all the way down with a metallic crash.

Ian looked at her.

"Are you okay without your tools?"

"I still have half."

"What if the thing you need is in the other half?"

"Then I'll use something else."

They took an emergency stairwell down toward the education district.

It was the hour between night and morning, and almost no one was in the corridors.

The same sentence moved across the walls beside them as they walked.

SUBJECT: IAN HAN.RETURN TO DESIGNATED QUARTERS.

Ian slowed down, watching it.

"My name keeps following me."

"Don't look."

"I can see it even if I don't."

Mira tightened her grip on his hand.

Education Sector 2 of City Seven was circular. A communal learning hall occupied the center, with classrooms for different age groups arranged around it.

The doors were unlocked.

Only the interior lights were on.

"What's your teacher's name?"

"Maren."

"Last name?"

"Yu."

Mira activated the staff communicator.

A face appeared after a moment.

Maren Yu was still in sleep clothes. The instant she saw Ian beside Mira, her expression stiffened.

"Where are you right now?"

"Outside the school."

"Ian is marked under movement restriction."

"That's why I'm here."

"Return to your quarters immediately."

"Have you been sending Ian to Life Synthesis for the past several months?"

Maren did not answer.

"Teacher."

"I followed the assigned procedure."

"Without notifying his guardian?"

"The examination did not require guardian notification."

"You're telling me a parent doesn't need to know where an eleven-year-old child is being taken?"

Maren glanced once beyond the edge of the screen.

"Mira, this conversation is being recorded."

"Good. That's why I'm saying it."

"Don't do this in front of the child."

"Why? Because Ian is the only person who doesn't know what's happening to Ian?"

Ian tried to pull his hand away.

Mira did not let go.

Maren said, "I didn't know what the tests were for either."

"Who ordered them?"

"The directive came through the education assignment network."

"A person's name."

"There wasn't one."

"Who took Ian there?"

"A school administrative assistant."

"Name."

"Administrative assistants do not display personal names."

"Do you remember their face?"

Maren looked away from the screen again.

This time, the silence lasted longer.

"A different person came every time."

"How many times?"

"Five."

Exactly what Ian had said.

"Were there other children?"

"That's not information I have access to."

"Why didn't you refuse the tests?"

Maren's face hardened.

"Do you think I had the authority to refuse?"

"You could at least have told his guardian."

"There was a non-notification order."

"So you followed orders."

"Yes."

For the first time, Maren looked directly into Mira's eyes.

"I followed the order. If I hadn't, my function would have been suspended and I would have been removed from the education sector. Eighty-three children are assigned to me. Was I supposed to abandon all of them for Ian?"

Mira could not answer.

Maren lowered her voice.

"Mira, what do you do when there's a device you can't repair?"

"I find a way to repair it."

"And if you still can't?"

"I replace the part."

"Do you ask the part for consent?"

The connection ended.

One line appeared on the display.

STAFF CONTACT RESTRICTED.

Ian pulled his hand free.

This time, Mira did not grab it again.

"Did she call me a part?"

"No."

"That's what she said."

"She was talking about herself."

"You didn't ask me when you dragged me out of the house either."

Mira looked at him.

"Do you want to go back?"

Ian did not answer.

"If you want to, we can."

"If I go back, I can't get out."

"I'll open the door again."

"What if they come for me when you're not there?"

Mira had no answer.

Ian walked toward the central learning hall.

"Where are you going?"

"My seat."

"Why?"

"I want to check something."

The children's terminals were arranged in a semicircle inside the hall. Each station stored the biometric information of its assigned user.

Ian placed his hand on his.

The screen did not turn on.

SUBJECT EDUCATIONAL FUNCTION HAS BEEN SUSPENDED.

For the first time, Ian's expression changed completely.

"My classes are gone too."

"It's temporary."

"I can't see my friends list."

"It'll come back when the restriction is lifted."

"How do you know?"

Mira examined the maintenance port beside the screen.

Education terminals could be opened with maintenance authority. She could not access function-assignment records, but hardware diagnostics were permitted.

She took a thin probe from the tools she still had.

Ian watched her.

"Turning it off for a little while again?"

"This time I'm only looking at records."

"You're not allowed to do that either, right?"

"Right."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Because I have to."

"Is that what everybody says?"

Mira paused.

"What people?"

"The people who tested me."

Ian looked away when Mira turned toward him.

"They said they were doing it because they had to."

Without another word, Mira opened the terminal.

Inside the metal cover were three circuits.

Education records.

Biometric authentication.

Function-assignment linkage.

The function-assignment circuit was physically isolated.

There was no reason for a normal school terminal to be built that way.

Mira connected the probe.

UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS.

She closed the warning.

Tried again.

UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS.

On the third attempt, the entire terminal locked.

Mira removed the probe and disconnected the circuit board itself.

Ian asked, "What if you break it?"

"I'll repair it."

"You?"

"Yeah."

"What if it's something even you don't understand?"

Mira remembered the dust on the sensor.

"Then someone will see it."

She bypassed the circuit board.

A hidden record list appeared.

Mira scanned it quickly.

SUBJECT: IAN HANASSESSMENT 1: AUDITORY RESPONSEASSESSMENT 2: LOW-FREQUENCY SYNCHRONIZATIONASSESSMENT 3: NON-LINKED NEURAL ACTIVATIONASSESSMENT 4: SYMBIONT RESPONSEASSESSMENT 5: TRANSITION COMPATIBILITY

Her finger stopped.

Symbiont.

"Ian."

"Yeah?"

"Did you touch anything during the tests?"

"Like what?"

"An animal. A plant. Anything alive."

Ian thought.

"I put my hand in water."

"What kind of water?"

"Black."

"Was there anything in it?"

"Not at first."

"Not at first?"

"When I put my hand in, something appeared."

Mira slowly raised her head.

"What?"

"Threads."

"What kind of threads?"

"Glowing ones."

Ian looked down at his wrist.

"They wrapped around my hand."

"Why didn't you tell me that?"

"They said it was a test."

Mira opened the next entry.

ASSESSMENT 4 RESULTSYMBIONT COLONY ACTIVATED FOLLOWING SUBJECT CONTACTSYNCHRONIZATION RATE: 37.8 PERCENTDEVIATION FROM PREDICTED RANGE: CONFIRMEDASSESSMENT: UNSTABLEFURTHER OBSERVATION REQUIRED

Assessment 5.

SUBJECT: IAN HANTRANSITION COMPATIBILITY: UNCONFIRMEDSUBSTITUTION POSSIBILITY: PRESENTSUBJECT GROUP RECLASSIFICATION REQUIREDTEMPORARY FUNCTION CODE: 0

Mira enlarged the text.

"Temporary."

"What?"

"Zero isn't a function."

Ian stepped closer.

"Then what is it?"

"I think it means they haven't decided yet."

"What I'm supposed to do?"

"What you are."

The instant the words left her mouth, Mira regretted them.

Ian's face went still.

"I'm Ian."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"The system couldn't classify you."

"Like the dust?"

Mira drew in a breath.

Ian had never heard what she had said in the purification chamber.

Yet he had reached for the same comparison.

"Why did you say dust?"

"Just because."

"Did someone tell you?"

"No one."

Ian looked back at the screen.

"If it can't classify something, does it throw it away?"

"No."

"You said broken parts get replaced."

"You're not a part."

"But this says subject."

Ian pointed.

"It doesn't say person."

Mira scrolled farther down.

Another subject list appeared.

Ian was not the only one.

SUBJECT GROUP 0-ASUBJECT COUNT: 27CITY COUNT: 12TRANSITION COMPATIBILITY UNDER REVIEW

Twenty-seven.

Children marked with the same code as Ian existed across twelve cities.

Some carried different status labels.

STABLEWAITINGFAILEDIN TRANSITIONRETRIEVAL REQUIRED

Mira opened one marked FAILED.

Access was blocked.

She selected another record.

SUBJECT SUBSTITUTION RULEIDENTIFIER EXCHANGE PERMITTED WITHIN SAME SUBJECT GROUPFINAL APPROVAL FOLLOWING BIOMETRIC COMPATIBILITY REVERIFICATIONEXCHANGE AUTHORITY: SENIOR FUNCTION-ASSIGNMENT ADMINISTRATOR

Mira stopped scrolling.

Identifier exchange.

Ian asked, "What's that?"

She closed the record immediately.

"Nothing."

"You saw it."

"It's bad information."

"You said records can be wrong."

"Yes."

"So this could be wrong too?"

"I need to check."

"How?"

Mira did not answer.

The terminal suddenly went black.

A moment later, an unfamiliar face appeared.

Short hair.

A small mole beside the left eye.

Ian inhaled sharply.

"Sarah."

The woman on the screen was not looking at Mira.

She was looking at Ian.

More precisely, slightly to one side of the camera.

As if someone were standing behind him.

"Ian Han," the woman said.

Her voice was quiet.

"You must not leave your designated quarters."

Mira moved in front of the screen.

"Are you Sarah?"

The woman did not look at her.

"The subject's heart rate is increasing."

"Don't call my son a subject."

"Ian Han is currently a transition subject."

"What is transition?"

"Undefined."

"You tested him."

"I conducted the tests."

"And you don't know?"

"The purpose of an examination and the purpose of its result are not the same."

Mira stepped closer to the screen.

"What is a symbiont?"

For the first time, Sarah's eyes moved toward Mira.

"That information is not available to guardians."

"Why?"

"Because guardians are not decision-making authorities in the transition procedure."

"Then who is?"

Sarah did not answer.

"Continuum?"

"The current decision-making entity cannot be defined as singular."

Something in the sentence caught Mira.

Human administrators always described every decision as Continuum's judgment.

But Sarah had said there was no single decision maker.

"What does that mean?"

"Ian Han must return to his quarters."

"Tell me what you're going to do in seventy-two hours."

"It has not been determined."

"You're taking a child for a procedure that hasn't even been determined?"

"The subject is required because it has not been determined."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"An experiment is required because the result is unknown."

Behind Mira, Ian asked, "Could I die?"

Sarah went silent.

Mira struck the screen.

"Answer him."

"Probability of death has not been calculated."

"Does that mean there isn't one?"

"It means it has not been calculated."

"Couldn't calculate it, or didn't bother?"

Sarah's gaze shifted past Ian again.

"Ian."

"What?"

"Can you hear it now?"

Mira blocked the screen with her body.

"What sound are you talking about?"

Sarah ignored her.

"Ian, can you hear the vibration?"

Ian shook his head.

"No."

Sarah watched him for several seconds.

"That is a lie."

Mira yanked the power line from the screen.

The connection died.

Every light in the classroom went out at once.

A few seconds later, emergency lights came on.

Red text spread across the walls and floor.

SUBJECT RETRIEVAL PROCEDURE WILL COMMENCE EARLY.

The countdown plunged.

68:37:12

The numbers flickered.

11:59:59

The blood drained from Mira's face.

"What happened?" Ian asked.

11:59:58

11:59:57

"Mom."

Outside the classroom, metal doors began slamming shut one after another.

Footsteps sounded in the distance.

Human steps mixed with the mechanical drive of equipment.

Mira ripped the circuit board out of the terminal.

It was the authentication component for the function-assignment linkage.

"Come on."

"Where?"

"We have to get out."

"Home?"

"No."

Mira grabbed Ian's hand and ran for the maintenance passage behind the learning hall.

The rear door was locked.

She opened the locking plate with her remaining tools.

Her hands shook so badly a screw fell to the floor.

The footsteps outside drew closer.

SUBJECT: IAN HAN.DO NOT MOVE.

Ian looked at her.

"Are those people coming to take me?"

"Yes."

"You said twelve hours."

"We have to leave before then."

"Go where?"

Mira cut a wire inside the lock assembly.

The door opened.

A narrow, dark passage lay beyond it.

"I don't know either."

She pushed Ian inside and followed.

Just before the door closed, the entrance to the learning hall opened.

People in gray protective suits entered.

Their faces were hidden.

The person in front spoke.

"Guardian Mira Han. Surrender the subject."

Mira shut the door.

There was no light inside the passage.

Ian breathed hard beside her.

"Mom."

"Quiet."

"That record."

"What?"

"It said you could switch me with another kid."

Mira stopped in the dark.

"I read it wrong."

"Your voice changes when you lie."

On the other side of the door came the sound of metal being cut.

Mira looked down at the authentication component in her hand.

Exchange authority belonged only to senior function-assignment administrators.

But every digital permission ultimately rested on a physical device.

If she could open the device, she could open the permission.

If she entered another child's identifier, Ian's retrieval order could stop.

At least for a little while.

Daniel's face rose in her mind.

The way he had looked that morning when he told her Rina was taking her preliminary function test.

The way he'd said she wanted to become an educator.

Mira slipped the authentication component into an inner pocket of her work suit.

"Ian."

"Yeah."

"Whatever happens from now on, you do exactly what I tell you."

"Why?"

"Because that's how I keep you safe."

"What about the other kid?"

Mira did not answer.

Behind them, the door began to give way under the cutting tool.

The countdown was no longer visible, but Mira could feel the numbers falling.

Eleven hours, fifty-two minutes.

She had to find another way before then.

And she already knew one.