Celeste and I rounded a corner and came to a stop. The Hyperdome had come into view at the end of the street.

"Wow." Celeste's eyes travelled up the precarious building's exterior. "It looks like they've added another level since I last saw it."

"They did." I stepped off the curb and led the way through the bustling outer market that surrounded the giant mall. "Last week."

We picked our way through the rows of stalls. Rich, charcoaled aromas of barbecuing pseudo-meats and vegetables wafted from open grills and giant woks, mingling with the scorching humid air.

The Hyperdome was the largest mall on the Ark. It might have also been one of the oldest. The sprawling base was semi-modern, with newer levels stacked above. Each layer got progressively more contemporary so the latest stores could be found at the very top. It wasn't like the malls in the central territories, they were all modern—knocked down every few years and re-built from scratch to accommodate the latest technologies and entertainment arenas and the newest stores. The Hyperdome held onto some of its history, which made for an interesting mix of retailers.

Holo-projected advertisements scattered and reformed around us as we came through the entrance and the temperature-controlled air fell over us like a cool, thin veil. We had come in at the ground level of the eastern wing. The glossy white tiled floors gleamed neon under the storefronts of the larger shops, most bordering the ground level's perimeter. The central portion of the floor was filled with hundreds of kiosks. We wove around them, heading for the giant glass elevators at the centre of the wing. In the void above, more superstores surrounded each subsequent ring-like level, spanning up forty—forty-one as of last week—storeys.

Celeste and I crammed into an elevator and headed upward. In the void beside us was a giant, multi-dimensional holoprojection of a guy modelled underwear. He must have been about four storeys high and was turning on the spot like he was stuck at the end of a catwalk.

Celeste's eyes were pinned to the projection. "Look at that ass," she said in admiration as we travelled up through second floor—and subsequently past the subject of her statement.

"Remi-who?" I muttered—exhaling sharply when she elbowed me in the ribs.

My gaze swung around the elevator and snagged on a man beside us. His eyes were set on Celeste and me in an indescribably intense way that made my fingertips prickle. He glanced away, brushing some imaginary lint off his grey and white striped shirt. Even with the pretend distraction, the creeped out feeling stuck in my gut.

I grabbed Celeste's hand at the fifth floor and pulled her out of the elevator in a hurry. I watched the man, but he stayed where he was, his eyes the only thing following us as the glass tube zipped upwards and away.

I blew out a breath and strode off around the ring, Celeste jogging at my heels, unaware of the whole exchange with the stranger. A narrow corridor splintered off from the main ring of shops. There were no projections or flashing advertisements down the alcove and it felt dark. Our footsteps echoed around the passage as we passed a dimly lit storefront. An A-frame board by the doorway was the only signage that indicated it was a room for psychic readings. We hurried onward to the only other store in the hall.

"Kelli's Tattoos." Celeste read aloud as I shouldered open the glass door. A bell tinkled in response to the movement and Celeste gawked at it and the door like they were foreign objects. When I glanced at her, she widened her eyes and mouthed manual at me, then shook her head in astonishment.

"You alright love?" A woman with a buzzcut and copious amounts of eye makeup looked up from a table interface. She tucked a stylus behind her ear, running her purple lidded eyes over Celeste, then me. "You lost?"

"I heard you still do vintage style tattooing here." I took a step away from the door toward her, feeling a little self-conscious. "With needle guns."

The woman cocked a drawn-on eyebrow and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "We do."

"I have a design."

She gestured to her table interface. "This has an open connection, swipe it over."

I blinked and found Celeste's drawing, flicking it in the direction of the table. The screen dimmed for a moment, then displayed the image.

The woman's shaved head angled down as she slid her fingers over the image, enlarging it. "Nice little piece, should be simple enough. Where do you want it?"

I pointed to my ribs and she clucked her tongue.

"You sure? That's a sensitive spot, especially for a first timer."

"Who says I'm a first timer?"

Her gaze flicked between Celeste and me again, and she smiled. "I've got a sense for these things."

I sighed. "That's the spot I want. I'm sure."

"Alrighty." She stood abruptly, her chunky shin-high boots clomping over the chequered Limonium as she disappeared into the back of the shop. "Follow me."

"You are mad. Absolutely mad!" Celeste said around the straw of her drink. She paused to take a loud slurp. "I don't know how you kept a straight face, that looked like it killed. I think I even saw blood!"

I removed the contents of my burger from the bun and shifted them onto her plate, she gave me her fries in return and I replaced them inside the bun. "It honestly wasn't that bad." I squished down the top of my modified burger, sandwiching in the fries.

"You would say that." She rolled her eyes, picking at some of the patty I had just given her then licking her greasy fingers. "Why couldn't you just get it done by laser, like everyone else?"

I took a huge bite of my double serve of carbs and shrugged. "Those only last a couple of years. I wanted it to be permanent."

"I'm honoured that my artwork will be on your sagging 150-year-old skin in years to come." She clutched her hand to her chest in mock sincerity.

I grinned. "So am I."

I took another bite of my burger, tuning out Celeste's noisy drinking and focusing on the chatter that hummed through the air. The tables around us were packed and the indecipherable mix of aromas created by every style of food imaginable wafted all around us.

My eyes ran over a nearby line of customers waiting for their burgers, when someone caught my attention.

The man from the elevator.

He was staring at us again—or had been. He turned, making a real effort to appear convincingly invested in a menu at the counter after he caught my gaze.

"Don't react," I said to Celeste, swallowing a mouthful of potato and dropping my voice to a whisper. "But I think we might be being followed."

She paused, mid chew, and frowned at me. "What?"

"There's a guy. Standing in the burger queue, staring at us. I saw him in the lift earlier too."

"Riiight." Celeste started chewing again, glancing around subtly at the queue—where he was still a little too invested in the menu. "Are you sure?" A sympathetic expression grew in her eyes when she turned back to me. "It's just... after yesterday, you could be forgiven for being a little—"

"Don't say paranoid," I warned, darting a glance back at him and catching his eyes again. "He's still looking at us."

"Astrid." She sighed. "Maybe he's a little weirded out because you're staring at him?"

I bundled my food in its wrapper and rose from my chair without warning. "He's got a vibe okay? I just want to get out of here."

"Okay." Celeste made a placating gesture with her hands, jumping quickly to her feet. She cast a look back at him before following me. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's alright," I cut her off and exhaled, grabbing her hand as we hurried along. Maybe I was being a little paranoid, but there was something off about him. I could feel it—and after yesterday, I wasn't going to risk it.

We headed for one of the glossy pedestrian bridges that connected the eastern shopping wing with the southern entertainment wing and crossed into the gaming precinct. Frantic and colourful projections burst out of every arcade, each blaring music louder than the next, competing for our business. Celeste and I strode through them, regularly glancing over our shoulders, but it was difficult to make anything out through the projections that reformed behind us.

We found an escalator that serviced a half-floor below and got on. As the ramp carried us downwards, I felt Celeste stiffen beside me.

"Astrid—" Her gaze was locked over her shoulder, and I followed it to see the man in the striped shirt getting on the escalator about a dozen people behind us.

"Run," I hissed, pushing my way down to the bottom of the escalator.

We clattered down the ramp, leaving startled cries and grunts of shoppers behind us. I took off in a straight sprint when we reached the half level, Celeste's platform shoes clopped along not far behind me. The half level was full of coloured glass kiosks. I ducked and weaved, hoping to get enough of a lead so that we could hide, but all my panicked running seemed to achieve was leaving an implicating trail of annoyed shoppers and dropped bags behind us.

"The elevators." Celeste puffed from somewhere behind my elbow.

I sidestepped a mother pushing a pram and spotted the glass tubes at the end of the level. I worked my legs as hard as they could go, glancing over my shoulder to check if our pursuer was still behind us. Celeste was more than a few paces behind now. Her eyes widened as she caught my gaze and her mouth twisted into a frantic 'O' as she scrambled to stop. I glanced back around, my step not faltering until it was too late.

I glimpsed the green glass of the oncoming kiosk wall with barely a second to brace myself—before I collided head first with the plexi-glass.