Just then, the bartender returned with Dec's drink—a tumbler filled with a marble-orange liquid and topped with a gas-blue flame.

"One 'surprise me' cocktail," she said. "We call it a 'Light Illusion'. Illusion because it looks like fire, but it can't burn you. It's an effervescent reaction, you see."

Dec felt like saying, 'I know what an illusion is,' then stopped. He had more important things to do than swap smart quips over fancy drinks with the bartender. He swiped the glass from the bartender's hand and pushed himself away from the bar.

Across the room, Kayla huddled amongst a group of government officials. They had their heads bowed and were nodding in unison as though pondering something very important. That, or falling asleep. Dec wound his way towards them, unsure of what he was going to do once he got there. He froze when an authoritative voice rang out over the speaker system in the ceiling.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen."

The crowd fell silent. Glowing faces turned to the centre of the room where a stout man in a double-breasted vest stood, arms stretched in a motion of appeal. Dec flinched as a swarm of Media Bugs lifted off the walls and hovered closer, like flies to dung, jostling for the best audio and visual footage to be aired from their respective news stations live around the Southern Isles. Dec shrunk behind a bulky onlooker and out of sight of the cameras.

The man continued, "Duran Heckley here, your Minister for Resources, and it's my great pleasure to welcome you all to the launch of 'Life Light'—our plan to bring infrared vision to Nocturnals around the country." He punctuated his words with a thrust of his hands, smiling widely. A polite applause followed to which Duran bobbed his head, accepting it. After a long pause, he went on. "Life Light is our ten-year strategic proposal to replace our reliance on SolStore technology with the more affordable and environmentally sustainable solar optic technology. It's a testament to our country's unwavering commitment to innovation and industry development and proof that we are at the forefront of change and technological advancement."

With each word, Dec could feel his temperature rising and his lips curling around an exclamation of disgust. The Minister's obnoxious enthusiasm was like having a bottle of poison forced down his throat and told it was medicine.

"According to our Estimates Committee, the integration of this new technology will lead to an incredible 8.9 billion sol saving per annum to be put towards further infrastructure development. This means new roads, highways, houses, workplaces, buildings and jobs for all Atundians. This change will single-handedly raise living conditions and fuel economic growth."

Dec wanted to roar with frustration, but forced the urge down with a swallow. While the Minister prattled on, spouting fancy words and superlatives, Dec scanned the crowd and noticed the rest of the cabinet ministers were bobbing their heads like strays for treats. Only one set of optics held still. Lazar stared at Dec, his head tilted forward, waiting for Dec to make his move.

Dec glanced at Kayla Bishop who, as if on cue, reached beneath the low V of her gown and pulled out the roll of trackpad. He pictured himself, pushing through the crowd, tackling her to the floor and wrestling it from her grip. But the fancy was severed by thoughts of the aftermath—the part where he was restrained, arrested and charged for assault.

He had no plan. And as the seconds and minutes dragged on and Kayla continued tapping her acrylic nails on the flexiglass, he had a vision of himself, drowning in a vast, tumultuous sea of infrared and disappearing below the surface without having moved even an arm to try and stay afloat. He imagined returning to his grimy garage and the ever expanding absence of his mother and pictured a future where Southerners fell dead on the street and Northerners side-stepped their bodies like they did the rotting strays. He imagined looking back and knowing he didn't do anything to stop it when he had a chance.

He didn't know how long he stood there, incapacitated by his thoughts, but the next thing he knew Minister Heckley was concluding his speech and the guests were breaking into groups to continue their discussions in direct response to what they'd just heard. The lifts pinged as Media Bots left the party with their footage, a sound that increased in frequency as many guests followed. With each ping, Dec's heart skipped a beat and his eyes traveled to the corner to make sure Kayla was still there.

She was no longer accompanied by collegues. Her eyes shifted towards the lift. He had to act, but he still had no plan.

"Another Blue Illusion, sir?"

The bartender's voice was a blinding light in the darkness, jolting him out of his thoughts. He felt the warmth of an effervescent glass pressed against his arm and shrugged it off. "I didn't order that," he said abruptly. He still had the first Blue Illusion clasped in his hand, untouched, and he didn't want to take his eyes of Kayla.

"I know," she said, pushing the fresh illusion into his hand anyway and taking the old. "But I think you'll need it."

Dec glared down at her, taking her in for the first time that night. She was at least a head's height smaller than him, yet she stood with the upright posture of someone who believed themselves taller than they were. Her features were unclear behind her oversized optics.

He drew himself to his full height and held out the tumbler pointedly. "I didn't order this." Annoyance withered his voice.

The bartender didn't so much as flinch. Her body temperature remained a cool, simmering blue, much cooler than any of the other guests around and when she leaned forward to touch the rim of the glass, she did it with exaggerated purpose. "You've got one minute until that effervescent reaction times out," she said. "I suggest you hurry up."

Hurry up?

It took a moment for Dec's distracted mind to register the strangeness of her words. When it did, she had his full attention. But before he could ask her what she'd meant by 'hurrying up' she was pushing her way back to the bar and disappearing behind a service area.

He glanced at Kayla, then down at the flaming shot glass in his hand—an outrageous idea that might just gain him Kayla's trackpad. Then, as though to confirm the validity of his idea, he heard another voice.

The flame, Declan. Use the flame.

The voice was louder than it had been before—as though spoken directly into his ear. He didn't have time to consider over its source, however, for Kayla was making her way towards the lift on her three inch heels. Now was his chance.

Cutting through the room between Mercury and Venus, he pretended to trip a few meters from his target, thrusting his drink into the air just as she turned towards the lifts. The effervescent liquid made a perfect arc, seemed to hover in the suspense of the moment, before commencing a downwards fall towards Kayla's décolletage.

Dec couldn't believe his own accuracy. The liquid glittered over Kayla's neck and chest like a fiery bib and Kayla's ensuing shriek was so loud, Dec thought for a moment he'd made a mistake and doused Kayla in real flames. But as she danced atop her heels, arms flailing like an insect caught in a spider's web, he knew he hadn't. The effervescent reaction glowed blue in his optics. If it had been as hot as fire, it would've appeared white.

In one swift motion, Dec removed his coat and threw it over her torso to douse the 'flames'. While he patted down the material with one hand, he slid his other beneath the jacket, locating hard plastic where her dress formed a V at her bosom. He gripped and tugged, felt the trackpad come free just as Kayla pushed him away, acrylic nails catching the skin of his cheek and leaving a stinging trail behind. He slipped the trackpad up his shirt sleeve and stepped back. By now, Kayla had stopped wailing, having realised she wasn't really on fire, and for a split second Dec thought he'd been caught out.

"Idiot," she growled, pushing her optics back up her nose to look at him. "Learn how to walk."

Dec tucked his chin to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible as he said, "I'm so sorry. I tripped." He gestured to his glasses. "Blasted things are an occupational health and safety hazard."

Kayla swiped the sticky residue from her arms, achieving nothing but spreading the liquid around. A crowd of onlookers had gathered to see what the commotion was all about, to which she threw up her hands. "What? Never seen a spilled drink before?"

The onlookers murmured and turned away.

Dec forced himself to stand still, though his whole body was sprung for flight. "Are you sure you're okay?" It seemed like the right thing to say. "Can I get you anythi—"

Kayla cut him off. "Do me a favour and stay the hell away from me," she snapped. "If you're lucky, I won't send you the bill for this dress." She turned her back. The conversation was over.

Dec forced himself to linger a few more seconds, feigning helplessness, before dragging himself towards the lift. He could hear voices fussing over Kayla in the background and Kayla repeating in an evasive tone, "I'm fine." With each step, he half expected to be tackled to the ground and wrestled into handcuffs.

Somehow, he made it to the lift without so much as a glance in his direction. The lift pinged, as though it had been waiting for him and he stepped inside without being followed. It was almost too easy. It was only while he stood waiting for the doors to close that he realised he'd forgotten his jacket. He could see it, crumpled on the floor near Kayla's feet like a dead body at a crime scene covered in his blood.

It was too late to go back.

Cold dread coursed through him as the doors closed with another ping. His breath rattled his ribs and when the electronic voice rang out over the speaker, his heart tripped over a beat. "One occupant detected. Scan your palm pod."

More cold dread washed over him. If he scanned his palm pod, they'd know what time he left the party. If he scanned his palm pod, he'd be smearing a trail of guilt in his wake.

He lifted his hand to the sensor with the effort of lifting a block of ice. The longer he stood there, the longer Kayla would have to realise the trackpad was missing and the less time he'd have to hide the trackpad, or deliver it to Lazar.

He had to get out of the Casino.

He jerked his hand over the sensor, triggering the electronic voice again. This time, she sounded unduly smug to Dec's panicked mind. "Thank you for visiting the Playford Casino, Declan Hancock. We hope you enjoyed your stay." And as though the lift wanted to torture him further, it began its smooth ascent with exaggerated slowness.

Cool air blew from the vents in the ceiling like an arctic storm. The sharp jut of the trackpad rubbed against his forearm like sandpaper on frostbite. He closed his eyes and tried to think of a song.

Suddenly, the lift jolted and the arctic air stopped blowing. Dec's eyes flew open in time to see the lift numbers fade to black. For a second, Dec thought his consciousness had failed him. Then, the electronic voice spoke again, "Security shutdown enabled. Lift doors disengaged. Please await further instruction."

Dec felt the walls close in around him and tighten like the screws on a flower press, squeezing his guts from his body. Kayla must've raised the alarm. They were looking for the trackpad, he was sure of it. Soon, it would all be over.