Half of the names on the list had already been crossed of. I was starting to think I'd never find the girl. That maybe that anonymous tip from months ago was a hoax, like everyone around me kept insisting. Capturing her would win me immeasurable respect from the other Interstellar Agency Corp officers, but that wasn't why I was doing this.

It was that darned picture.

The picture was from the cover of a palm-sized pamphlet that had been printed decades ago, but whose effect had been insufferably damaging and continued being so.

Thirty six years ago, when the aliens descended from the skies as humanity faced the apocalypse, many people saw this as the true end, even thinking to blame the extraterrestrials for the Coronal Mass Ejection. But the solar flare was a natural phenomenon that we weren't ready for and the Quielax saved us from our nescient planetary defence systems, or lack thereof.

They were our salvation.

When they left, many of us believed that they would be back. We further believed that the energy towers they constructed before they left, giving every human on the planet access to almost unlimited electricity, were a gift and a chance to prove ourselves before their return. And with this one chance, humanity had done well so far. The greatest advancement was the cessation of most wars and global disputes, with many governments now realising that there were much more powerful forces to face as a United Human Race rather than fragmented tribes.

There were a few governments that didn't agree to this outlook, of course, but they were effectively shunned and ostracized, and their technological improvements quickly trailed everyone else who worked together to propel the fastest technological revolution in history.

The creation of Urban Hamlets was the zenith of this revolution. These were four hundred story skyscrapers that span the base area of a city block, providing homes, employment, sustainably produced food, state of the art educational facilities, apprenticeship opportunities and so much more. For the first time in human history, every person on Earth had the chance to have every single one of their primary needs met.

So why did the woman on the pamphlet cover feel the need to threaten this?

We had one chance to clean up house before the Quielax came back. One chance to prove Earth's worth. One chance to present our value to a galactic community. We didn't know when they would come back, didn't know how much time we had, but we needed to practice an extreme sense of urgency and agency in efficiently utilizing this one chance. This was the main reason for the creation of the Interstellar Agency Corp, and why I joined as soon as I was allowed to at fourteen.

One of IAC's tasks was to track down individuals and communities hellbent on sabotaging this one chance at building a human society worthy of an intergalactic collaboration with who knows how many other alien civilisations in addition to the Quiellax. In the last few years, this woman on the pamphlet cover had quickly become the greatest threat to this noble endeavour. This anonymous tip on how to find her would finally end that.

That's why it irked me that I was absolutely taken by her.

Obsessed, even.

And why, upon seeing her now in real life for the first time ever, I could barely keep my breath steady. I really hoped she couldn't hear my heart bashing against my ribs, even though I was pretty sure the officers on the moon station could hear it.

"Found you." I said, walking up to her. "You're surrounded. There's nowhere for you to go, Safiya. Not this time."

We were in the main Urban Hamlet of this city, at the recreational space of the three hundred and seventy eighth floor. Every floor had one and they looked exactly the same – a relatively massive open space that could be divided into smaller meeting areas using mobile walls or opened up into a convention-like centre as it was now. The room was decorated with beautiful splashes of colourful flowers, compostable ribbons, biodegradable balloons and recyclable, fashionable, elegant galaxy themed furniture that was printed exclusively for the event.

I'd attended a few 'Two Fifty Club' events, but this was as close to the highest floor of an Urban Hamlet as I had ever accessed. For most Urban Hamlets, every floor after the two hundred and fiftieth floor was under strict access. Very few people were members of this "Two Fifty Club", usually the most highly esteemed scientists, engineers, medical personnel, astronauts and others who played a direct role in preparing us for intergalactic travel. Those who lived here had to earn their homes by making significant strides in intergalactic research or systems engineering, making it almost impossible to live here two years in a row.

It was only during formal events such as this one, a wedding between a rockstar astronaut and superstar rocket scientist, that more people were allowed up here, close enough to kiss the clouds, and even then, the guest list was highly curated. I was here under an IAC mandate thanks to the tip that I would find the woman in one of these events. I wondered how she'd made it to this list – this wasn't her usual crowd.

"How many 'Two Fifty Club' events in how many Urban Hamlets in how many cities did you end up attending to finally find me?" she asked, turning around to face me.

I choked on my reply.

I'd recognised her from the back because her hair was held up just like it was on the pamphlet, as a gorgeous afro, with long, thick, curly ends sticking out beautifully, all brought together by an Ankara headband wrapped just above her forehead to her nape. But when she turned to face me, it was the first time I believed in the impossible act of a heart skipping beats. Heart shaped face, large doe eyes the colour of sparkling amber, a dimple on the right cheek, long straight nose and flawless skin of a gorgeous teak shade.

"That's impossible." I whispered.

I didn't realise I'd taken out the pamphlet and ogled at the cover until she gently took it from me.

"I remember this. The only photo I ever let anyone take of me." she said, her voice finally cutting through the static that had suddenly cottoned my brain. She sighed. "Ah. To be young, naïve and so very idealistic."

She turned the worn brochure over her hands for a few seconds and then handed it back to me.

"You've had this a while. Probably looked at it more times than you can count?" she said with a raised brow. "I don't know whether to be flattered or freaked out."

"That's impossible." I repeated, my mind still unstuck. She looked exactly the same as in the photo. Completely unchanged! "This photo is thirty years old. How?"

A clone?

"No. Not a clone," she chuckled.

Had she just read my mind?

"I didn't read your mind. You said it out loud. And that last phrase too." she replied, now taking a sip from the flute of champagne she'd been nursing when I'd walked up to her. "Don't worry. There's nothing wrong with you. People tend to speak their minds around me, and sometimes they don't seem to realise it."

I took a deep breath and tried to keep the emotion off my voice. I wanted to sound stoic. Cold. detached.

She was making that difficult.

"Let's not make a scene," I said, relieved that my voice kept steady. "You know why we're here, right?"

"You're here because you believe everything the IAC shills tell you," she said, placing her champagne flute on the cocktail table behind her.

"You cater to the basest, most primitive human deviance and, what's worse, you flaunt it and encourage others to join you. Are you going to deny it?" I threw back. I didn't have to pretend to keep my voice steady. My anger took over and iced every word. "And don't give me that bullshit about it being the oldest business in human history."

She moved closer, invading my personal space. I squared my jaw and stood my ground, breathing slow through the anger, letting it gird me.

"My dear Jesse, there's more to sex work than mere business," she whispered in a pleasant tone that reached parts of me I wished it didn't. And how did she know my name? "What they've told you is a lie. We live in a world where every single one of us has a home, enough food and medicine and every other material requirement to keep us alive. My partners and I aren't doing this to meet some unfulfilled monetary desire. We do this because every human on Earth needs what we provide, but no amount of money or power guarantees the provision of this particular need. Not even if you're the most decorated couple on the planet, now celebrating your wedding in front of all your friends and family."

I balled my fists at the insinuation.

"I don't care what you tell yourself to sleep better at night," I whispered back. "You place innocent women and men in vulnerable positions, and they suffer for it. Your actions are jeopardising everything we've worked on to make ourselves worthy of joining a galactic community! Are you all so devoid of self-control that you're willing to risk humanity's destruction for a few fleeting moments of pleasure?"

She moved even closer, her lips mere centimetres from my ear.

"When was the last time you truly felt pleasure, Jesse? Spiritual, healing pleasure." she asked, the low vibrations of her whisper once again stroking and strumming those parts of me that I'd so carefully locked down for years. "Do you know why you will take me away today, but you will never keep me in your prison cells, Jesse?"

"You're going to rot in those cells, Safiya," I gave back just as good. "You and all those people you brainwashed to join you. By finally capturing you, I just cut the head of the snake. Everything else will tumble down faster than you can say, 'prostitute'."

She chuckled and finally moved away, allowing me to take a deep breath that wasn't wholly contaminated by her intoxicating, sensual, irresistible fragrance, a feature about her that I would have never discovered from that one pamphlet cover photo.

"What's so funny?" I asked, as I instructed her to turn around and put her hands behind her.

"I thought you'd have figured it out by now." she said, turning around and giving me the sexiest look I'd ever received from a handcuffed perpetrator.

"What?"

"I'm the anonymous tip that led you here, Jesse," she purred. "This isn't you arresting me. This is me... how did you put it?... 'brainwashing you to join me'."

*

I shut the door behind my latest client walking back home to her dog and a shit ton of new data from a satellite that had been launched only a few months ago. She would be lost to her work for a year, at the very least, but I wasn't worried that it would overwhelm her. She knew to sought me out before it did.

"When was the last time you truly felt pleasure, Jesse? Spiritual, healing pleasure."

I walked over to the window of my Urban Hamlet apartment, four hundred storeys above ground, the highest level. I chuckled as I continued to recall the events of that day when I first met Safiya. I sometimes got lost in those pensive memories, but especially at the end of a particularly healing session with a client, like this last one. That day completely changed my life, but I could have never guessed at how much back then.

Ah. To be young, naïve and so very idealistic.