Dec approached the ivy-covered doors of the Lady Josephine, feet swirling clumps of yellowed leaves on the gravel path. The breeze had changed direction somewhere between home and the church and was now a cool, straight-off-the-sea, southerly. Autumn was coming—a reminder that it was almost their two-year anniversary since the March Massacres and the government's radical decision to implement 'The Solution'.

Tommy pushed the church doors open with a haunted squeak and disappeared into the din. Dec followed, almost hitting his head on the bone-coloured crucifix hanging by a single rusted chain just inside the entrance. One of these nights, that crucifix was going to fall and kill someone.

Lazar stood beneath the main apse of the church, face angled upwards so it caught the moonlight streaming through the broken stained glass dome above. The crumbling statue of the Lady formed a plaster shadow behind him, making it look like the dove white wings were his own. He'd swapped his magician's outfit for an all-black tuxedo and his cravat for a bow tie. He was wearing dark-tinted sunglasses.

"Bit optimistic don't you think?" Tommy said, walking with the confident stride of someone expecting an enthusiastic greeting.

Lazar didn't answer. Instead, he flicked a hand in Tommy's direction and from out of the broken pews, two men appeared, wearing identical tuxedos and dark-tinted glasses. Medium heights, medium builds, same blonde hair styled in matching combovers, they were twins, save one of them had an eyebrow piercing, and the other had a vivid white scar when an eyebrow piercing used to be.

"Check them," Lazar said.

Next thing Dec knew, piercing man was patting him down, sweeping his hands over his chest, down his torso and up both legs with dismissive coarseness and much less precision than when Rain had done the same after his night at Mansions. He could hear Tommy protesting his treatment beside him.

"Shove off, mate. What's this all about anyway? Think I've got some kind of weapon on me or something?"

Lazar answered from his place at the apse. "We can never be too careful."

Meanwhile, piercing man had moved onto Dec's palm pod, turning his wrist this way and that. Probably checking for tracking devices, Dec thought.

Tommy opened his mouth to say something to Lazar, but was cut off when the scarred twin caught his jaw, held it open with one hand while shining the torch down his throat. Tommy spluttered and turned his head away. "What the hell, mate?"

"We need to make sure you haven't contracted the Desert Sickness so we know you're fit to perform your first assignments," Lazar said in a bored monotone. "Don't want any hallucinations clouding your judgement."

Piercing man gripped Dec's head and peered down his throat just like scar man had done with Tommy. Once this was done, he pried open Dec's eyelids one-by-one and shone his torch in them.

"All clear," he said, taking a step back.

"Clear," his brother said from Tommy's side, his voice an echo of the first.

Lazar approached them from the apse. His stride was slow, procession-like. It was a wonder he didn't fall over his feet with those stupid glasses on. He came to a stop directly in front of Dec. "As you know, the dust storm has brought with it a severe outbreak of the Desert Sickness. The government is working with the hospitals to keep it a secret, but the number of infected individuals could be as high as one in three. Of infected individuals, some will start showing symptoms within the month, others will merely remain carriers, whose symptoms might not show for years. It's the coverup of a century, and the NYR is the only group in a position to do something about it."

"How do you know this?" Dec said. His sister's wariness must've rubbed off on him.

Lazar turned to Dec, his expression unreadable behind his glasses. "The NYR has members in high government and hospitals around the Southern Isles. We've been collecting data for years."

"If the data is so transparent, why aren't you taking it to the police or media?" Dec said. "The media would have a field day. And there's not much the police could do in the face of hardline evidence."

"The data we've collected is observed. We have just about as much proof as a squatter claiming theft. The doctors and nurses have been denied access to patient files, and government officials are so carefully monitored, it's impossible for my members to leak the files without being caught. As you've probably already figured out, the police force is corrupt. But I have my fair share of eyes and ears in the force. They tell me the government doesn't want information on the Desert Sickness to be made public because they think it will make people irrational, possibly dangerous."

Dec thought back to the attack on the hospital. "Maybe they've got a point."

Before Lazar could answer, Tommy said, "So, what's the plan?" He was bouncing on his toes as though about to fight in another Smackdown. He was still wearing his gym shorts from the night before and his singlet was doing nothing to stop the waft of his body odour.

Lazar ignored him. "As we speak, the Playford Casino is holding an official launch party for the Solar Optics I'm wearing." He pointed to his dark sunglasses. "They're the newest thermal vision technology straight out of the North, developed to assist Nocturnals to see in the dark. Their aim is to reduce our reliance on SolStore technology for lighting, and therefore, reduce the number of city-wide blackouts caused by grid overload. I've been wearing them for a couple of nights now. They work fine but they take some getting used to."

Dec thought about the pallets he'd been unloading at Overlands. Optic frames, the picking slip had said. They were probably the solar optics Lazar was wearing right now. Once again, he'd been aiding his own repression, he thought bitterly. Digging his own grave.

Lazar continued, "All the important government officials and politicians have been invited to this party, including the Minister for Health. She will have a trackpad containing the electronic evidence we need to prove the hospitals are covering up the number of confirmed cases of the Desert Sickness." He leaned forward. In his hand were a spare pair of optics. "It will be your job to steal that trackpad."

Out the corner of his eye, Tommy's head jerked between them. "Dec hasn't been initiated. Doesn't he have to be initiated before he can be given an assignment?"

Dec frowned. Was Tommy jealous?

Lazar ignored Tommy and continued to stare at Dec through the abyss of his optics. "If you check your palm funds, I believe you'll find all the incentive you'll need."

Dec tapped his palm pod, eyes widening as five-thousand sols popped into his account. The numbers trailed like a mistake—like someone had fallen asleep on their palm pod and the weight of their cheek had accidentally pressed the touch screen. He'd never been in possession of so much money in his life. "I might fail," he said.

"Consider it an obligation free downpayment for your assistance," Lazar said.

"Why me?"

"I've already told you why." Lazar held out a spare pair of optics. "You'll need these."

Dec peered down at the heavy frames in Lazar's outstretched hand. "I can see just fine."

Lazar bunched his lips. "The party is being held in the dark. All attendees are required to wear their optics to see. Best put them on now to get used to them."

Dec hesitated a moment longer. But before he could come up with another excuse to stall the agreement, a vision of Adele popped into his mind—her haywire hair, her bloodshot eyes. If he could pull this off, not only would they have proof against the Northerners systematic repression of his people, he might be one step closer to helping his mother.

He snatched the optics and placed them on his face, blinking as total darkness enveloped. Then, out of that darkness, a blur of fiery colours emerged and focussed into human-shaped blobs.

Dec swayed as the stark contrasts swam before his eyes, vivid and disorientating. There was Lazar, his face a floating orb of white around the eyes, neck and cheeks, ringed by orange for the nose and red for his forehead. Where his exposed skin disappeared beneath his suit, the colour faded to blues and blacks. Next to him, Tommy agitated from left to right. He was running hotter than Lazar. His face was lit up flare white and nearly every other exposed inch of skin glowed orange. Patches of red showed where heat pulsed through his thin cotton clothing.

His breath plumed the air blue when he spoke. "What do you want me to do?" he said. His voice was gruff with something masked as urgency, but seemed to Dec more like annoyance.

Lazar finally turned to address the hot-head beside him. "I've got a different assignment for you." He held out his hand and Tommy took something from it. The object gave off no heat, so Dec couldn't tell what it was. "The twins will explain your assignment in full. Meanwhile, Dec and I must go, or we'll miss the party."

Dec didn't have time to gauge Tommy's reaction before Lazar had spun him by the arm and led him towards the door. He could hear the twins talking to Tommy in low voices. Then, the crypt-like door of the church closed between them.

Outside, a glossy, black limousine pulled up to the curb and a slick man with a combover stepped out. He bowed to Lazar and opened the passenger door with a gloved hand. Lazar ducked inside. Dec slid in after him, catching a noseful of fresh leather and vanish. Strip lighting along the non-seated interior of the limousine and roofline showed up like a bright red cord of rosary beads in his optics. Snot green smudges shone on the windows where their heat reflections bounced off the glass.

"Ever been to the Casino?" Lazar said.

Dec shook his head. The question was as dumb as asking if a Northerner had ever been to a coal mine.

"Put these on," Lazar said, pressing a cold suit bag and patent shoes into Dec's hands. Dec could hardly make out their blue-black silhouettes in the dark of his optics, though their outline was vaguely visible due to the absorbed residue heat of their surrounds.

Dec found his way into the bag by way of the metal zipper which shone a feint blue guideline where it conducted more heat than the expensive pure wool threads contained inside. As he navigated the shirt, jacket and bow tie half blind, he thought of the Playford Casino—of its impressive tower design made entirely of glass and shaped like the pinnacle of an iceberg. Referred to as the 'glass heart' by Northerners, and the 'frigid soul' by Southerners, it was an impressive feat of engineering which stood out, obnoxious as a diamond set into concrete when compared with the crumbling sandstone buildings of the old town around it. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever have thought he would be going to an exclusive government party inside such a fancy location.

He expected Lazar to turn around as he changed. He didn't. Dec was left to struggle into his new suit, aware of how his half-naked body appeared to the solar optic eye. It struck him as both horrifying and intriguing that there was no way to hide the way his cheeks flushed hot under Lazar's unrelenting gaze. He made a mental note to keep that in mind. It might come in handy when dealing with untrustworthy politicians at the party. Perhaps their body heat would give away their lies, even if their words did not.

"Liquid confidence?" Lazar said, holding out a glass and stirring in a mixture of luminite and water. Dec thought it curious that the solution appeared the same light blue in his optics as it did in its true form. The reaction between water and powder must've warmed the glass.

Despite his curiosity, he leaned away from the offering. "No thanks."

Lazar shrugged and skolled the glass himself before filling it up and mixing in another small pinch of the Luminite. This time, he waved it under Dec's nose a bit forcefully. "Drink. You look like you need it."

Curiosity bending his will, Dec brought the liquid to his lips and took a small sip, humming as the concoction left a warm, peppery residue on his tongue. Almost immediately, his head cleared and a pond calmness washed over him—the kind of stillness a racer might feel before the starter gun is fired. He wondered if Tommy had felt the same way before the fight last night while sipping on his luminite-spiked water bottle and before Chook gave him a black eye.

He took another sip, and another, feeling extraneous thoughts disappear and his confidence crystallise into three simple steps: enter the party, steal the health minister's trackpad, don't get caught. The luminite thrummed in his veins.

He could do this.