Zaharah held her arm up, hovered her finger over a button on the panel. Your arm should function as intended. Those words had occupied her mind for the remainder of the weekend and into Monday. The lights on the buttons glowed green, but unlike her phone, they had no symbols to tell her what they did.

Her art history audio book played the speakers on the walls, the narrator sounding just as disinterested in as she felt about the work of some old, dead white guy with regressive societal ideals. Even her distorted reflection in the fogged bathroom mirror didn't care about Caravaggio's unique use of light and shadow.

The lights blinking on her arm were far more interesting than Supper at Emmaus would ever be. As intended, Cammi had said. Wouldn't that be just moving and working like a normal arm? She didn't know what any of these buttons did, which meant she risked breaking it again in her ignorance.

She shivered at the thought. Then again, she had Skorpi. He could fix it. In theory. One button, she decided. Just this one and she'd leave it alone. She ran her finger back and forth over the buttons before pushing one at random. A click and a whir came from deep within the metal. The panel on her palm slid aside, and a metal rectangle popped out.

She had half a mind not to touch it, but the other stupider half of her mind won over and pulled it out. The light bounced off its mirror-like surface and revealed flecks of dark purple under the finish. A single button, much like those on her arm, was in one corner. She pushed it, and a blade shot from the other end, silvery, with a Z lasered onto one side.

A. Fucking. Knife. Whose bright idea was this? It couldn't have been her father with his staunch opposition to violence. She pushed the button to sheath the blade and tucked it back into her palm. A whir and a click took it back into her arm where she could pretend it didn't exist. That was enough tampering with her arm for one morning.

Zaharah went to the bedroom, the scent of her pineapple body wash mingling with whatever magic Demarkus was whipping up in the kitchen. Her desk clock read 6:53. Her appointment at the Clinic was scheduled for 7:30, which left her with enough time for a quick breakfast. She slipped into some jail tights and an orange top and picked out some matching trainers.

Her phone sat on the desk, a layer of dust on its black surface, criminally ugly compared to her purple one. Dwight had sent this one with a note saying all her contacts were preloaded and given her new number, but she'd refused to even turn it on. No doubt he, the Director, and everyone else had been blowing it up. She'd taken the rest of the weekend to disassociate and pretend anyone outside her immediate vicinity didn't exist.

If she had her way, she'd isolate herself from the outside world and focus on school until winter break. But life demanded socialising and socialising in Denden meant crawling out of her safe little hole to mingle with the denizens. So she set off to the source of the succulent scents drifting through the apartment.

Zaharah met Demarkus in the kitchen, stirring a pot of grits. He scooped two portions into the waiting bowls and topped hers off with vegan sausage, while Jade got ham. Lucky. Jade sat at her usual spot at the table, dolling Skorpi up with a lacey black bow.

"Morning." Zaharah plopped down in front of the steaming bowl of food. "Thanks Markus. Looks good."

"My pleasure as always, girls." He took the empty pots over to the sink and took his spot at the table. Since he didn't have to eat, he spent their time at breakfast either reading or tampering with Skorpi. The latter this time.

They ate in silence for a while, with only the clinks of cutlery and the sounds of the sprinklers in the garden downstairs. The vegan sausage wasn't as dry as Zaharah was used to, but still carried a strange, earthy aftertaste. She ate as fast as the piping hot food would allow, while checking her watch to make sure time wouldn't get away from her.

"Zaharah?" Demarkus asked, breaking the silence.

She glanced up, a bite of food halfway to her mouth and lowered it, her appetite dissipating like the steam from her bowl. It wasn't that Markus talked to her, but his tone. That tentative and soft tone that screamed: we need to have a talk.

"Yeah?"

He drummed his fingers on the table. "Is there anything we need to talk about?"

"No,' she answered without missing a beat. Jade stared at her across the length of the table, hands poised as though she wanted to sign something, but she balled them into fists instead.

"Are you sure?" When she didn't answer, he sighed. "Dwight said you seemed upset when you left the lab on Saturday."

She shrugged a shoulder. "I was upset. They took my phone gave this ugly piece of shit. On top of that I'm up to my eyeballs in assignments and behind on my study schedule. So you'll have to excuse the fuck out of me for being a little upset." She capped off her point by shoving a forkful of food in her mouth.

Demarkus put his hands up. "Fine. I was only asking."

"I'm gonna be late for my appointment." She dropped her fork in her bowl and stood. "Jade, have a good one. Markus, I'll see you when I get back."

Skorpi skittered to the edge of the table and beeped at her, claws held up.

"Yes, you can come." He jumped and grabbed onto her shirt before climbing up her back to her shoulder.

Zaharah did a quick pat down of her pockets as she left the apartment. A cold lump of guilt sat just below her heart. She hated having to snap at Markus like that, but knew of no other way to get him and Jade to back off. It wouldn't be long before they staged an intervention and forced her to talk. And as much as that annoyed her, she owed them for caring so much despite her insufferable attitude.

She pulled her long board from the locker and ran up before jumping on. A no-comply instead of an Ollie took her down the steps today; she was feeling adventurous today.

Skorpi, however, wasn't and gave a beep that sounded more like a screech as he hung onto her shoulder. She cruised through the arboretum, carving this way and that to avoid stray twigs littering the pathway. The trees would drop pinecones soon too, making the path even more treacherous.

She picked up speed down the platform's ramp and zoomed into the west side of Denden. The clinic sat on the same platform as the lab with a tea garden in between. Whiley's was further west, next to the service pumps for the buggies. She rolled by the benches and tables and dead flowerbeds to the main entrance of the clinic.

Unlike most of the other buildings, it didn't reek of pine cleaner, but something sweeter that reminded Zaharah of fresh mango. An android caretaker sat on a couch the waiting area with a young girl who couldn't stop scratching herself.

More news of the hurricane played from the screen mounted in the corner. The storm lingered just a stone's throw away from Old Turks, still moving at three miles per hour.

"Hey Zaharah," Nurse Sacha greeted her from behind the reception with her usual smile. Her sweet smile. And damn, she looked cute in her pink polka dot scrubs.

"Hey." Zaharah took her eyes away from Sacha's smile to the engagement ring on her finger. All the good ones were taken.

"Dr Cyan wants to see you right away. So head to the back."

"Thanks." While normal patients were directed to the examining rooms, Zaharah went into the suite. Which was not the luxurious hotel accommodation it sounded like. The room looked more like a mad scientist's wet dream. Glaring white, with machines and equipment that would make Dr Frankenstein blush, and colder than a butcher's freezer. Screens covered the entire front wall, one displaying more news of the hurricane while the other displayed the status of the machines.

Only Doctor Will occupied the room. He stood next to the Entochamber—the machine Zaharah regularly used during her checkups. It looked like the Virtua machine, with a more cylindrical form. But being stuck in there didn't take her through fanciful adventures of days gone. No, what it gave her was something akin to dreamless sleep, while the doctors poked and prodded at her. Which was why she often compared it to a coffin, because she could be dead while in there for all she knew.

"Oh, morning Zaharah." Dr Will said in that overly friendly, android way. He wore his hair in cornrows, instead of pulled back into a ponytail like usual, and the sleeves of his coat were rolled up.

"Hey." She dropped her board by the door. "Should I suit up or...?"

"Yes of course. Everything's in the bathroom." He flicked his head towards the door in the back.

Zaharah left him to his work and sauntered into the bathroom. She squinted at the glare of the lights against the white tiles and the white everything else. Her suit sat on the shelves above the sink alongside bottles of cleaner stronger than battery acid. Dr Cyan insisted on keeping every surface sterile enough to eat off of. Even patient's clothes.

Instead of stylish, ass out, hospital gown, Zaharah got a smart skin—a skin tight apparatus that interacted with the machine to... do stuff. She zoned out when Will tried to explain how all this shit works. The thing looked about five sizes too small, but stretched out to fit her like a glove. She folded her clothes and left them on the shelf.

Back in the suite, she met Dr Cyan and Will sitting by the monitors, in the middle of conversation. The former saw her first and waved her over.

"Thanks for coming Zaharah." She patted the empty chair next to her. "Have a seat. I want to have a little chat before your exam."

She frowned and lowered herself into the seat. "Is something the matter?" Dr Cyan rarely talked to her about anything outside how she was feeling, her diet, sleep patterns and her more... embarrassing bodily functions. If she had any questions about the tests, she asked Dr Will.

"Actually, yes." Cyan leaned forward, hands clasped together in her lap. "This is going to sound crazy, and scary, but I need you to be open-minded."

"O...kay."

"You need to take Jade and leave Denden as soon as possible. Tomorrow if you can."

Zaharah laughed, a hollow sound with no humour behind it, escaping her without warning. Because of course Dr Cyan had to be joking. The only way off Denden was by Heli, and she didn't have one of those lying around. And uprooting herself and Jade during the most hectic time of the school year was academic suicide. "No, I need to finish school and save up my stipends and then move Jade and I to the mainland when I can afford to."

"Zaharah, this is serious. Sanders is on her way here now to tell you she's sending you to the UEC. She's already asked me to transfer all of your medical records. You're leaving Denden regardless."

The words hit upside the head so hard, her head snapped back. "No... the Director said it was just a suggestion. She wouldn't... Why would she?"

"I don't know, Zaharah. She's been keeping me out of the loop for weeks now." Doctor Cyan put a hand on her knee. "But what I do know is... Aleesha has been lying to you and manipulating you this whole time. She doesn't care about you, only about what she can gain from you."

She swallowed, but it didn't alleviate the dryness in her throat, and when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out.

"Remember the night of the accident?" Dr Cyan stared at her as though trying to gauge her reaction. "It wasn't the explosion that injured you. Both you and Jade were fine. You were adrift in a pod before you wound up here."

Zaharah scrunched her brow, lips parting with a rebuttal. Then she remembered the audio Cammi sent her. With her voice. Her breathy, frantic voice desperately trying to contact the boat. And the video. The two figures running across the north shipyard. It all fell into place. Her stomach clenched, and she swallowed the bile pooling in her mouth.

She sucked in a breath that felt like razors against her throat. "D you know what a Creeper is?"

Dr Cyan opened up her mouth to speak, but Will beat her to it. "She's outside."

"Shit. Zaharah. Get in the chamber. Hurry," she added when Zaharah didn't budge.

Zaharah stood on legs as wobbly as gelatine and stumbled over to the machine. While she climbed on the loader, Skorpi jumped from her shoulder to the table holding the monitors. The padding was like ice against her back, and the lights glared down at her from the ceiling. She tried to take a relaxing breath, as she always did, but it felt as though a small child was sitting on her chest.

"Breathe easy," Dr Cyan said. "I know it's a lot to take in, but you'll be fine. We'll finish our talk when there's time, I promise."

"What's going on here?" The Director's voice came from somewhere beyond Zaharah's feet and sight.

Doctor Cyan stood by the control panel, shoulders squared and face composed. Still, a twinge of irritation leaked into her voice when she said: "Just a routine check Aleesha. Did you need something?"

"Yes, actually. I need to talk to Zaharah."

"We'll be done in half an hour."

Silence stretched across the room, tight and tense like a rubber band on the verge of breaking. Or snapping back and stinging someone. It could go either way. And for once, Zaharah found comfort in the chamber's lid closing over her.

If only it was a real coffin.