"I can't believe you ate that whole goat pepper." Pharah bumped shoulders with Zaharah as they left the Biodome. The clock had struck two, which meant Chore Day was over. Residents were filing out the building and saying their goodbyes before disappearing down the pathways.

Zaharah walked around the building with Pharah and Roddi to the patch of cocoplum bushes where they'd parked the buggy after lunch.

"Are you okay?" Pharah asked with a small smile.

Zaharah shrugged. A lingering tingle still sat in the back of her throat, but the churning in her stomach had stopped. Roddi's stupid cat had bet her a hundred sand dollars she couldn't stomach one.

"Your weak human body would crumple," Shala had said.

Jokes on him. Zaharah had choked back way more intense shit than a goat pepper. A stupid skill, Jade had called it, but joke's on her too. Her pockets weren't a hundred dollars fatter.

"I'm fine for now," Zaharah said. "Can't speak for a couple hours from no though." With great power came horrible indigestion. She should stop for some scented candles at Whiley's before she went home.

"Well met human," Shala said, narrowing his eyes at her. "I underestimated you. You've earned my respect."

"Thanks?" Respect from a mechpet wasn't her most shining achievement, but she'd take it.

Pharah tossed her bag on the seat of her buggy. "You live in Southside right? I can give you a ride home if you want."

"Nah. I'm riding over to the lab before. It's not far from here." Zaharah set her board down, holding it with her foot so it wouldn't roll away.

"Ah." She bit her lip and looked away, sticking her hands in the pockets of her skirt. "Could I... maybe text you sometime?"

Oh, be still my beating heart. Pharahdox the DJ with leagues of screaming fans was being coy with her. Zaharah arched a brow. "You'll have to, if you still want me to help with your logo. You can send me some ideas and inspiration tomorrow."

"Right. I'll do that. Tomorrow." She slid in the driver's seat. "Uh. Take care. Say hello to Jade for me."

"Sure." Zaharah waved them off and ollied her long board down the ramp. The west path took her in the direction of the lab, and she glanced over her shoulder in time to catch Pharah's buggy disappearing around the Biodome.

"What do you think Skorpi? Is she into me?"

Skorpi answered with a few disjointed beeps, barely heard over the whir of her wheels on the pavement.

"Yeah, you're right. She was just being nice. I mean... She was nice to Jade last night, gave her that wooden crown thing, and she's probably like that with all her fans. Yeah... I'm reading into this way too much." She exhaled a sigh, her breath hot with embarrassment. At least she'd kept her comments light and fun didn't push too hard, but it would be safer to keep their interactions more professional.

Otherwise Jade would throw monkey tamarind in her bed, and she'd be itching for days.

Zaharah made it halfway up the ramp to the lab before her board lost momentum. She kicked it up to her waiting hand and walked the rest of the way. Buggies took up the small parking lot and even the path leading up to the door.

A full building meant the situation was even more serious than she thought. On a normal day, only a few members of Dwight's tech development team were needed at a time. They shared this building with Aquacell, Denden's cell service provider, who used most of the upstairs space.

The Director had recommended the beta testing programme to help Zaharah distract herself and also earn some stipends. It wasn't much but another year of saving and she could set her and Jade up in a small apartment.

Zaharah waved to the android at reception and took the back door to the lab. A wall of silence awaited her on the other side. Everyone was at their computers, eyes glued to the screens, tapping at interfaces. The place rank of coffee and sleep deprivation.

Dwight sat hunched at his station, elbow on the table, cheek resting on his fist, reading whatever nonsense was on his screen. His e-cigarette glowed at the end as he took a long drag. Zaharah sidled up to his station and rapped on the desk, but he kept his eyes on the screen.

"Hey." She waved a hand in front of his face. "Everything alright?"

"You're stinking up my lab." He still didn't look at her.

She stomped down her irritation. He probably had a rough few days with everything that happened. "I texted you last night."

"You and everyone else in this place." He took another drag and chased it with a swig of coffee. "What's the problem?"

"Cammi texted me last night." She held out her phone with the messages on display, but kept her eyes averted from them. They'd occupied much of her thoughts during her painting session, and now she didn't have chore day as a distraction. One look and those words would take up residence in her head again and breed endless theories and speculation.

Dwight massaged the space between his brows. "Same shit, different day." And he took the phone. His face remained neutral as he scrolled through the messages, like he was reading the news, and not more potentially damaging information.

"Well?"

He turned away and connected her phone to his computer. "What was in the dispenser?"

"A pin. In the shape of an Icarus wing." She had stowed it away in her art trash drawer where she kept old paint tubes, brushes and other useless things she should throw out but kept for some reason. "Do you think Cammi is here in Denden? How would they know where I was? Where is that audio from? That's my voice, but I don't remember any of it. And they gave me their address. Have you guys called the—"

Dwight put his hands up. "Zaharah. Please." He took another long drag from his cigarette and exhaled the vapour through his nose. "First thing, Cammi has an accomplice here. We're trying to—"

The phone rang, Beradeaux blaring from the small speaker, echoing off the walls of the quiet room, and every head in the lab perked up. Zaharah held her breath as she read the dash—a 242 area code from the mainland. She reached for it and Dwight slapped her hand away, looking at her as though she'd lost her mind.

"Ty, get Grey on the phone. Tell him we're getting a call in from the mainland."

"Shit," Ty said as she got on her phone.

Zaharah kept her eyes on hers. She'd picked Nova Star as her ringtone so she could jam while ignoring whoever was trying to call her. But Beradeaux singing about consuming everything around them in a ball of glorious fire didn't give her the same comfort this time.

Her finger itched to pick up the call, but at the same time, she dreaded what was waiting on the other side. Or who.

"Grey is on top of it," Ty said. "What can we do while—"

"Hello?" a voice asked through Zaharah's phone. A man's voice. Deep, yet soft around the edges.

Dwight swiped it from the desk and pressed a finger against the speaker while using his free hand to tap away at his screen. "What the fuck?"

Zaharah swallowed. The call had picked up on its own, and that voice must have been Cammi's. She'd expected something more akin to snakes than velvet. "I want to hear what he has to say."

"Zaharah, no," he said as though she were a disobedient pet.

"I'll mute the call. I want to know where the audio came from, and I know you're not going to tell me."

"No."

She huffed. "Skorpi, pickup the call. On mute."

Dwight's jaw ticked, and he tapped away at his screen. Productivity in the lab ceased as everyone leaned over the stations to hear the conversation.

"Zaharah? Can you hear me?" Cammi's voice came through Skorpi's speaker. "I'll assume you can. Why are you not talking? Is someone with you?"

She stuck her hand in her pockets and bit the inside her cheek to stop herself from telling Skorpi to unmute the call.

"I know it's not Aleesha," Cammi continued. "I saw her earlier. She wasn't happy. I was informed that what I'm doing may be... upsetting you. I apologise. I suppose that confirms that you don't remember me, and now I have no idea how to approach this situation without continuing to look like a creepy stalker. So thanks for filling her head with lies, Dwight."

Dwight took another drag from his cigarette, then tapped the end against his desk like a pen.

"I think I know of a way to get you to trust me, Zaharah. But I'll need help." He paused for a second, but that second stretched for hours. The lab was so silent, the whir of the ventilation system sounded more like a gust from a hurricane.

"Skorpi," Cammi said, and the mechpet perked up, much like he did when Jade or Zaharah called him. "Connect to model ZC37."

Skorpi beeped, and his eyes blinked green, blue, green, blue. And so did the lights on her arm; all five blinked in rapid succession. Zaharah could only stand there, rooted to the ground, every breath she took hissing in her ears, undercut by the blare of her heart.

"Alright, now launch the recovery protocol."

Skorpi's eyes blinked faster, the colours almost blurring together. Meanwhile, the lights on her arm flared red. She held her breath. The lights on her arms panels only blinked when she plugged in to charge or plugged Skorpi in to charge. Now the red lights were turning green, one at a time.

"Alright, Zaharah. The functions of your arm are fully restored. It should work as intended now. I hope it helps. And don't let Jade stick bugs in this one, please." The call ended, and the silence of the lab rolled in like morning fog, clouding the air. The techs shifted their eyes between Zaharah and Dwight, their shoulders bunched close to their next as though anticipating the fallout.

Zaharah stared down at her phone. The dash was dead, but Cammi's words still lingered. Jade had stuck bugs in her last arm while it was charging as a prank and revenge for Zaharah sneaking a whole fingerling pepper in her conch salad. That was years ago. He couldn't have found that info just lying around in Denden's database, could he?

And he'd been able to voice command Skorpi—something not even her older sisters could have done. Heck, not even her mother had that kind of power. And few people were close to their family. Their parents kept a small friend circle and encouraged them to do the same.

Then how...? Zaharah racked her brain for anything related to Cammi or his voice, but only succeeded in giving herself a headache. A tingling settled in her toes, like ants had made a home in her boots. It climbed up her legs and sapped the strength from her calves. "I... I need to sit down." The room span and she reached out for purchase as her legs crumpled like brittle wood.

Someone, Dwight, she guessed, caught her before she hit the ground.

"Grab me a chair. One of you go get Will." He eased her to the cold tile and steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. "See what happens when you don't listen to me?"

"It's fine. I don't need a doctor." She gulped in a breath, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm fine," she said again, even though it felt as though she'd inhaled fire. Dizzy and numb spells weren't uncommon for her, but Doctor Cyan told her to monitor them because they could be signs of a mild stroke.

"Are you sure?" Dwight asked.

"Yeah." A chilly sensation lingered in her legs, but the numbness had faded. "Give me my phone, I'm going home."

He didn't seem convinced, but Dwight was never one to push the issue. "I can get Ty to take you home. But I'm not giving you your phone."

And just like that her chills faded, evaporated by a hot flash of anger. "Are you fucking serious? That's my phone. I paid good money for it. You can't just take it. That's theft. You're stealing from me."

"Are you done?" He took a long drag from his cigarette, face as blank as always. "I told you from jump, this is more than just some petty trolling, and you've shown me that I can't trust you to be sensible about this. I will get you another phone from upstairs and I'll have them preload all of your contacts and transfer all of your files. Go home."

Zaharah ground her teeth, caging in all the nasty words on her tongue. Dwight didn't bow to insults or give in to hysterics; arguing with him was pointless. So she pushed herself from the ground and headed for the door. Ty waited there for her, leaning against the frame with a leather jacket over her arm.

"Zaharah," Dwight called, before she crossed the threshold. "The Director is not going to be happy about this."

She scoffed. "Like I give a fuck."