Boniface Young's tirade lasted nearly two hours as Livy repeatedly explained why the vidstar's only option was to be tagged as an asset, reducing her status to that of a pet, or worse. Her rights, her possessions, even her identity, would be bound to Livy's for the duration of their stay in Haven.

Security would still check biometrics, but unless procedures had been significantly altered, a tag, the digital designation for every human born under the Grid, would take precedence and Boniface Young's identity would be logged as an encrypted string on the Nomad's load manifest.

"I never agreed to this," Young shouted, "I let you take my belongings and trade them for these rags, and now you expect me to be your slave?"

Livy shook her head. "You won't be my slave, it's just a cover to get you past the checkpoints."

"You said they'll check my tags. How will that work if it's not official?"

"People change status in the badlands all the time, which means it's not unusual for human cargo to pass customs as a null entity..."

"You said that already."

"...and the Grid prevents city archives from synchronizing in real time so they rely on couriers for updates."

"How does that help!? What's to stop you from delivering me to Bannon, claiming your fee, then taking everything I own and selling me to the highest bidder?"

"If you'll let me finish, princess," Livy growled. "All of that detail is hidden, managed by an administrative AI. We'll slip a little extra information into the updates we're carrying, a serial number that matches the one in here."

She held out the pirated tech she bought in Hightown. It resembled a hypo, but was designed to implant a microchip beneath the skin at the base of the skull, used by civil authorities to formalize a change in status.

"The tag in here is biodegradable and it'll break down after a few days, but while it's active, your personal ID will be merged with this serial number, creating a separate, unique record in the city database. When the chip is gone, your false identity goes with it."

"But it won't delete the record."

"No, but IDs are encrypted to prevent data piracy between corporations. It would take a dedicated AI weeks to find an anomaly and it would have to be looking for you specifically. Corpo execs would need one hell of a good reason to put in that kind of effort."

Boniface hesitated, still surly but less confrontational. "Can you even do that? Just change the updates whenever you want?"

The correct answer was 'no,' and without Gypsy and her military decryption software the plan would have been impossible. "It's not like we're editing news feeds, it's just one extra line of code. I'd be more concerned that someone will recognize your face."

That solution involved changing Miss Young's cotton-candy pink hair to black and applying a bit of oil and dust to give it a distinctively grimy appearance. Livy expected further protests, but the vidstar contributed details she never would have considered, and the result was more than convincing.

"I've been made up worse than this for a role," she said when she caught Livy staring.

In the end, Boniface Young might have escaped from a gangers' camp, dressed in stolen garments and a collection of dirt from miles of empty highway, but it was her expression that really sold it. She clothed herself in the posture and demeanor of someone who had fallen past the cesspools of society as easily as putting on a new pair of shoes.

The last step was the biodegradable ID tag. Knowing it would hurt, Livy waited until Boniface was bent over adjusting her boots before punching the tip into her exposed skin.

"Ouch! Shit, shit!" She lurched upright and rubbed vigorously at the back of her neck. "What the hell? You could have warned me!"

"It was always going to sting," Livy grinned, "talking about it would have just made you anxious."

Miss Young punched Livy twice in the arm. "That wasn't funny. Don't start thinking you can get friendly with me, runner, I'm only doing this because I don't have a choice. I'm still the one paying you. Don't forget that."

The punch didn't hurt enough to bother her, but Livy was surprised at the ache Boniface's words delivered. She wasn't used to spending time in the company of human beings, and she'd long forgotten how to mitigate that kind of rejection, especially after giving in to her passenger's requests. Rather than process her feelings, she turned them into something less foreign.

"Don't worry, princess, all you are to me is a number in my bank account. The sooner I get your ass out of my ride the happier I'll be."

The rest of the trip passed in a simmering silence full of scowls and deliberately avoiding looks out of the corner of the eye. Livy even turned some of the driving over to Gypsy to stop herself from hitting every divot in the road and wrecking the Nomad's compensators out of spite. The stalemate ended out of necessity in the final approach to Haven's first checkpoint.

"Don't say a word," Livy told her, "I'll do the talking."

"I know my part, just do yours."

Livy stopped the Nomad before the steel barricade and waited while an active scanning array detailed the vehicle and its contents.

"Microwave interferometer is glitching, boss," Gypsy crackled politely in her earpiece, "something inside is broadcasting a signal."

"Did they pick it up?" Livy asked out loud.

"I'm covering for you, sweet cheeks," Gypsy said, "not to worry."

"What?" Boniface asked, understandably confused. "What do you mean?"

"Shh. No talking."

A Hao Tec security agent approached the driver's window, combat armor in place and assault rifle at the ready. Livy punched the toggle to lower it.

"Designation," he said, a microphone in his helmet unnecessarily amplifying his voice.

"Olivia Pilgrim. Class two independent courier, 04-841020-A."

She could see the red data feed scrolling on the inside of his visor. "File says you were staged for impound at lot 422 two months ago."

"Glitch in my navcom. Took a wrong turn and defaulted on a contract. I settled it with the client."

He nodded and the data scroll advanced. "Open the rear hatch."

"Is there a problem?"

"There will be if you don't comply."

She tried to match Polly's fake smile and released the rear panel. Another guard advanced and scanned the interior with a hand-held unit.

"Who's your friend?" the first agent asked.

"That's the null field on the manifest. Truant, entity classification six. Status change is recent so no legal name yet. I don't have her history."

"Castoff?"

"Picked her up in Hightown."

"Hightown has a meat market?"

Livy shook her head. "She was cleaning stalls. I made an offer, they accepted."

The guard bent down and peered through the window. "Not much to look at."

"It doesn't matter in the dark," Livy winked at him, feeling a faint twinge of disgust. "The road gets lonely."

"Right. Checking ID," he said as he stood, his amusement plain, and Livy's disgust turned outward. "You're clear. Checking passenger."

Livy risked a glance at Boniface who sat hunched, head down, projecting the aura of someone who had been abused so often she expected nothing else. She wanted to pull a trigger on the gate guard for treating it business as usual, as if it were normal, though she had been counting on exactly that.

"Hightown?" he interrupted her thoughts and she nodded in response. "No custody records, ID isn't matching up."

"Data is logged in my local parcel, pending upload and decryption," she said, anxiety and aggression competing for space at the front of her mind. "You can detain us if it makes you feel better, but that's a lot of paperwork just for a truant. If you let me through, the archive will be updated before your shift is over."

He paused, motionless, expressionless, until his partner banged a fist on the side of the Nomad indicating that his scan was complete and Gypsy automatically closed the hatch. Livy's palm itched again for her shotgun, tucked away just behind her seat. Never mind identifying the vidstar, if she was caught moving human cargo illegally into Haven, she'd be tagged and sold herself. The second guard stepped away for a moment and returned with a hoop made of black composite with flashing, red lights along its circumference.

"Put this on her and you can go."

Livy paused. The chattel collar wasn't part of the plan, but she couldn't turn it down without raising suspicions further. Bracing herself for the screaming she'd have to endure, she snapped it around Boniface Young's neck and pulled the control pin, locking it in place with an audible click. The vidstar flinched, but said nothing.

"Where's the release key?"

"There isn't one, it's synched to the Haven Authority Network. It'll run a sweep after encryption to confirm her status. If everything checks out it'll issue a digital release key and the restrictions will be lifted. The chattel collar can be returned to any city desk before you leave the city."

A string of curses bounced around Livy's mind, but she maintained her bored smile. "Is there anything else? I'd like to confirm delivery and get paid before nightfall."

The guard issued a checkpoint tag for her manifest and waved her through the gate.

"Get this thing off me," Boniface hissed as soon as the doors were closed, clawing at the band around her throat.

"Stop." Livy grabbed her wrist. "You can't remove a chattel collar without a release key, and if you try it'll shock you unconscious."

"I'm nobody's goddamn slave, take it off now!"

Livy forced her hand down. "Ice down your ego, princess, you're the one who wanted to go in under the radar, and now you've pulled me into your mess. If anything flags shady to the Authority A.I., I'll nosedive for forging status tags and illegally transporting human cargo."

"If you think I care..."

"I think you don't understand what's happening. You'd be complicit, an accomplice. Forget moving through Haven unnoticed, the best you can hope for at that point is a scandal. At worst, that collar becomes permanent."

Color drained from the vidstar's face and she gave the composite band another tug. "This was your idea, it's your fault!"

"Yeah, it was my idea, but those guards weren't following standard procedures and you didn't leave me with many options. If I stuck to the terms of your contract we'd both be better off."

"I can't go back until—"

"Then we keep going forward!" Livy barely restrained a shout, then forced herself to calm down. "It's not as bad as it could be. The biggest risk right now is that the Authority A.I. might find a partial match in the serial string we set up for you when it checks for duplicate records."

"You said they wouldn't notice?"

"Humans won't notice. When the archive decrypts it, it'll be just another set of numbers even if they run a diagnostic. It's different now that you're in the AI's spotlight. It'll be scanning for your ID specifically, unencrypted. If it identifies you as a possible VIP the city will detain both of us and dispatch a runner to our last checkpoint to clear things up."

"You mean Whitelock?"

Livy nodded.

"That can't happen," Boniface said. "I have six weeks to get to Bannon and back and my handler can't know. The media can't find out I was ever gone."

"How do they not know you left?"

"As far as they're concerned I'm in a medical coma receiving gene therapy to accept an aggressive implant."

"Tits or ass?"

"A biomonitor," Boniface glared, still fidgeting with the collar.

"Won't they notice when you come back without one?"

"I've had one for years, it's just been switched off. When we get to Bannon a medtech will turn it back on and update the firmware. Nobody will ever—" She winced and pinched her eyes shut, mumbling "shit" under her breath.

"Don't worry, princess, I can be discreet," Livy said. "We all have secrets to keep."

***

The fenced customs warehouse was nested in a ground-level urban sprawl slightly less derelict than the squalls in Whitelock, with armed corporate guards and turrets keeping would-be city gangers from raiding the valuables inside. Boniface sulked in silence while Livy handed off custody of Archie's crates. After haggling, she reluctantly agreed to receive payment via digital transfer and instructed Gypsy to move the funds to her ghost account as soon as she had a stable connection.

She had intended to rent a garage in a cleaner district for her passenger's sake, but after Boniface was saddled with the unexpected collar she opted to stay in the lower city. The appearance of an impoverished runner and her indentured badlands whore would draw far less attention.

"These clothes stink," Miss Young complained after they were checked in with the doors shut and locked.

"It's part of the disguise."

"It's disgusting."

"Feel free to take them off."

"You're disgusting."

"Don't flatter yourself." Livy punched a button on the wall of the garage, hoisting Gypsy for maintenance. "There's a zip shower below the loft. Go rinse off, you'll feel better."

"Where? You mean th... wait, is that a toilet?"

"Why, do you have to go again?"

"But it's out in the open!"

Livy tapped a screen on the lid of her toolbox and rolled her eyes. "You're lucky we have running water."

"I can't believe this."

"Haven's lower city has it a lot better than most."

"It's hard to imagine anything worse than this," Boniface whined, slipping out of her dusty jacket.

The diagnostic computer in her toolbox synced wirelessly with the navcom and began running and comparing internal and external diagnostic checks. It would take longer than Gypsy's analysis, but Livy still wasn't ready for introductions.

"There are people in the Whitelock squalls who'd consider this a luxury," she said. "Some districts have corpsewagons that go around every couple of days and pick up bodies to be incinerated."

The vidstar's expression twisted in revulsion. "You—you mean door to door?"

Livy nodded. "And out of the gutters, the alleys, the middle of the street. They don't look too hard though, and some end up laying around for days. They wouldn't bother at all if the city wasn't worried about another plague."

Miss Young's face shifted again and this time she appeared sympathetic, almost embarrassed. "I didn't know that."

"Why would you? You'd have to care enough to risk a walk under the canopies. The media isn't about to remind corpos about the suffering beneath them."

"That's not fair!" Boniface protested. "I just didn't—I'm not heartless!"

"A couple hours ago you made it pretty clear that you didn't care if I was tagged and sold on the meat markets."

Livy didn't raise her voice but there was iron in her tone, and though Boniface opened her mouth to reply, she reconsidered and turned quietly away.

The Denenburg Aegis, commonly referred to as "Corpsewagons," were originally designed as medical transports in high mortality zones, but in practice, the facilities and onboard AI weren't able to monitor and manage multiple patients with acceptable survival rates. Cities still claim their patrols are meant to find the homeless, castoffs, and victims who are injured and sick, but they've become travelling morgues. Some citizens believe that these are far more nefarious, collecting and euthanizing undesirables in the lower city.