Emessage from: SMae214, FreeWebMessaging4U

To: T.M. William, Anthrology Department, Sherbourne University

Dear Dr. William,
My name is Sannah MaVae. I think you know a friend of mine, Faro Oriar. He recently gave me a copy of a book you were in, The Subaltern Exotic, and I wanted to let you know how much, as a young Exotic, your words spoke to me, and changed the way I think about so many things. It was so inspiring. If you'd be willing to talk more, there's so much I'd like to say to you. Sorry for contacting you out of the blue.
Sannah MaVae

It was best to start casual, Sannah thought. Test the waters, see if this guy seemed like someone who might help them. She'd felt weird writing as a young Exotic, but she wanted him to know there was something that connected them, that she had experience, could understand the things he'd written about. That's what tied them together.

She drummed her fingers on the scratched tabletop, pressed refresh on the screen, hoping for a speedy response, any response at all. She felt exhausted and wrung out after a bad night's sleep in Reeta and Tooley's grotty bedroom.

The Internet cafe smelled of old food and cheap coffee. I should order a drink, Sannah thought. So I can stay here while I'm waiting for a reply. Refresh again. Please answer soon. Please.

Yes! Sannah's heart expanded like a balloon as the blue line of a new message appeared at the top of the screen. He must have been sitting at his computer, seen it straight away. She couldn't believe her luck. Thank you, Numen. Thank you so much.

hello Sannah,
thank you for getting in touch. it means a lot to me that my writing spoke to you, as a young exotic. that's the greatest compliment that i can receive. youre very welcome to get in touch again should you wish to. all the best, T

There were no capitals, like he was in a rush. That was good—it made him seem less formal, more approachable. Sannah had a hopeful feeling. Yes, she was going to ask him.

She spent a long time composing the message. Writing, rewriting, explaining everything, deleting it, explaining it again, better. She told him about the project. About how Judit was taken. About their mother, about how Judit was all she had.

She explained that all she needed was an ID to access the Sherbourne Network, to adjust the chip. That it wasn't illegal, wouldn't cause significant problems for the project, would take no longer than an hour, and wouldn't be traceable to him.

She justified her actions, related it back to the things he'd written about, about standing up to the establishment, about self determination and structural inequality, about governmentality and intrinsic rights.

She made the best argument she could, then, swallowing, she pressed send. Please help me, she prayed. Please. If you were Faro, you would. Please be like Faro. He will be like Faro. He will. She ordered that coffee, sat back, and waited.

It was a good job she did. Four coffees, a plate of chips and almost 10 digits worth of screen time later, she finally accepted that it was useless. It was a crook idea, you dagging nyaff, Sannah berated herself. I can't believe you even thought it would work. You stupid, stupid skitting idiot. Why should a stranger help you? Just because you're Exotic? It's ridiculous. Just go. There must be another way. Think of another way.

But she couldn't make herself leave. Despite not believing for a second she'd get a response, she was stuck to her chair. She thought of Saint. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.

Refresh.

Refresh.
Refresh.

Refresh.

RefreshRefreshRefresh.

Refres-
Emessage.

Sannah nearly knocked the screen off its stand, lurching to press open. Whatwillitsaywhatwillitsay, oh please, please be positive.

Hi Sannah... wow. that wasn't what I was expecting. I sympathise with your plight. I know the project you're speaking off. I'm not involved and haven't seen it personally, but believe the participants are well looked after. How do you know your sister needs 'saving'  at all?

Sannah sat back, exhaled. Was that good or not? She couldn't tell.

I've seen her, and spoken to her. She wants to come home. Please. I just need to access the Sherbourne network, for less than an hour. I can't tell you what you'd be doing for me. She's all I've got.

Sannah but her lip, pressed send. The reply came almost immediately.

I don't know. How would you effect an escape even if you did disable the chip? Say you do 'save' your sister, what then? Where do you go? If I were to help you I could well be endangering either yourself or others.

Sannah rubbed her face. If she told him her plan, he could so easily go to the university, warn the others, and it would all be ruined. But if she didn't, she'd be ruined anyway. He was her only chance.

No one is in danger. I have a boat

She deleted that line. She didn't want to cause problems for Brock, if it all did go wrong.

No one is in danger. I have a car. I will collect her. I have somewhere to stay tonight and we'll leave on the first train in the morning.

Sannah looked at the screen, chewing her lip.

I've got it all worked out. I have a job. I can support her. Please help. I'm begging you. Please.

Seen notification. Pause. A minute passes.

I understand your predicament, and I'm sorry you feel the way you do. Life certainly can be hard for a young exotic in Albia

Without thinking,

Please. I'm begging you. I've read your work. I know you understand

No reply. Sannah could barely hear anything. Her heart was beating in her ears like it was amplified through a bass-bin. Please. Please. Please.

Look, Sannah, you've put me in quite an awkward position

I know. I'm sorry, I am, I wouldn't ask but I'm desperate. You don't know what this means to me. Please. She's all I've got. Please

I can understand that. I'm just... let me think, OK?

The only thing in the world was Sannah and the screen in front of her. Time slowed down to a stop.

I shouldn't do this

I really shouldn't

[email protected]
Tgf*18bx3

You've got one hour. Then I change my password

***

Sannah was prepared this time. She'd taken a sea-sickness tablet. It felt off kilter, like someone had cling-filmed her insides, but it was working.

"They're there," Brock pointed towards a white smear on the dark cliffs, looping up and down, up and down, as the boat moved towards the shore. The bottom made a slapping noise with every down movement, as it hit the waves. The wind blew Sannah's hair into her face and she brushed it back with one hand, clinging to the side of the wheelhouse with the other.

This is it. She thought of Saint. No. She thought of Judit. She could see her, in the shadows, with the other girl, Brock's girlfriend. Sannah's heart tensed and released, tensed and released, painfully. This is it. We're doing it.

Brock pulled the boat up, struggling momentarily in the high waves. The sea was stormier than the night before. Thank God for the tablets. If only they could take away the fear, too.

Brock stepped straight off the boat after securing it, wobbling for a second when his front foot hit the rocks, then righting himself. The girl ran into his arms, and he met her with a passionate embrace. Sannah thought about Saint again, and it felt like a kick in the stomach. Get over it. Pull yourself together.

Brock disentangled himself with an affectionate stroke of the girl's hair, then reached out to help Judit onto the boat. She looked tired and wan, a little spooked.

Judit leaned in to give Sannah a perfunctorily hug. "Did you do it?" she said as she pulled away, her eyes finding Sannah's. "Could you find me? I tried to do figure-eights. It was hard... I didn't know what size. People would think-"

"You did good." Sannah squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "I found you. It's definitely done. I watched for a while afterwards."

"So this is it," Judit croaked. "Where... Where are we gonna go? Back to Birchwood?"

Sannah shook her head. "I was thinking somewhere new. Start again. I've got money... And there's work I can do, good work. It's gonna be okay. We could go to Calverley. Sutton, maybe."

"Not Sutton." Judit was vehement for some reason.

"Okay, not Sutton. Anywhere you like," Sannah rejoined hastily. "We don't have to decide now. We'll go straight to the station, wait there for the first trains. We can decide then."

Sannah grimaced, grabbed the side of the boat as they fell and hit a wave. Sleeping in the station wasn't ideal, but there was no way in hell she was going to take her little sister back to that changhouse.

"Do you want to borrow some clothes?" Sannah pulled a top and trousers out of her bag. She'd even been to the laundrette, had them cleaned. Judit nodded with a weak smile, took them, and went into the wheelhouse to change.

"It's time we got back," Brock stepped back onto the boat, the girl watching from the rocks, hugging herself. "I'm working early. Where's Judit?"

"She's in the wheelhouse," Sannah said. "She's coming with us."

Brock's face fell. "Wha... I thought you were just coming to visit her," he said dumbly.

"She's coming," Sannah replied firmly. Judit emerged from the wheelhouse, looking hurled but wonderfully normal in a baggy black top and jeans. Brock stared at her, eyes wide, not moving.

"I... I don't know," he said weakly. "I want to come back here. Lintie... If they find out I was here..."

"I've covered our tracks." Sannah's tone was more commanding than she felt. "No one need know you were involved. Just tell your friend,"—she nodded to the figure on the cliff—"to say she didn't see anything."

Brock stood stock-still for a moment, staring at her uncertainly, then reluctantly walked towards the rocks, went to confer with the girl. She looked shocked, her body jerking, hands to her face. She came towards the boat.

"Judit?" Her voice carried weakly over the waves. "Is this... Is this for real? Are you really going?"

"Yes." Judit stood by the wheelhouse, not looking up. "It's for the best."

The girl floundered, looking at the boat and then the cliffs, like she wanted to get on but was scared because of her chip. Judit looked like she might cry.

"Brock?" Sannah said sharply. "Is it time to go?"

Brock shrugged, looked at the girl, shrugged again. "I love you," he said over the waves, as if he was trying to direct his voice to the girl only, without them overhearing. "I'll come back tomorrow. Just tell them you didn't see anything, okay?"

The girl shook her head, her hands extended, palms up, like she was all question, overcome by everything. Brock smiled at her, grimly, apologetically, and moved towards the wheelhouse. He rubbed his hair out of his face, his eyes never leaving the girl, then started the engine, and they were off.

Her white shape didn't move from the cliffs until it was swallowed into a speck by the night. Sannah looked at Judit. She was crying.

Sannah curled into the bench next to her, put an arm around her shoulder, clutched her hand.

"It's okay," she whispered, "it's going to be okay." She wasn't sure how much she believed it.

Brock was frowning and stiff at the steering wheel, and Sannah felt he was angry at her. Not that what he thought mattered really, but it made the rest of the journey unpleasant. The night was still and big and eerie around them, despite the noise of the engine and water. Sannah squeezed Judit's hand. All three were silent, withdrawn into their own thoughts. Sannah saw Saint, as real as if he were here. She could feel his skin, that electric charge of his touch. It gave her a headache. I miss him so much.

The sky was foreshadowing dawn as they arrived at the dark-grey industrial docks of the town, crusty scum bubbles and rainbow oil-slicks floating on the rippled water. The sea promised day, but to the other direction, the town was black as the depths of night, streetlights pooled weakly amid the crates and detritus of the dock.

Sannah thanked Brock, as genuinely as she could, but he still seemed unhappy about the whole thing. They left him on the boat, fiddling with rope, and climbed, legs unsteady, up a rickety metal ladder onto the fish-and-diesel reeking quayside.

Everywhere was quiet. A shrill birdcall and the clink of chains, knocked against a wall by the wind, were the only sounds. Sannah squeezed Judit's hand again. Judit sniffed.

"You okay?"

Judit nodded, composed her face.

They hiked up the deserted road, moving from streetlight to streetlight, the day growing more visible all the time. Sannah thought of Saint.

We could just go back to Birchwood.

She led Judit across a patch of scrubby earth, then a deserted carpark, towards the train station. It was silent but well-lit, clearly visible even from a distance.

Maybe we could go back to Birchwood.

There was a stout metal barrier between the car park and the road that traversed the front of the station. Sannah paused to give Judit her arm, help her clamber over it. When she had, she turned and offered her sister the same.

What if we did? Just went back to Birchwood?

A row of three taxis waited at a rank outside the station. One driver was sleeping, another reading a paper over his steering wheel. The third looked empty. There was one lone, sad car in the small station carpark. It was deathly quiet everywhere.

Maybe we can go back to Birchwood. I can find Saint. We can get a flat all together and I can work at the Metropol.

The station doors slid open automatically as they approached. Inside it was bright, so bright everything seemed hyperreal, painful to look at. Sannah scanned the destination boards, neon places, bright lit names on black. She tried to tell herself they were all opportunities, but it felt more like they were traps.

Maybe I'll even have a baby, like Dierdra. And I'll care about it and love it and we can be a real family.

They walked towards the boards, came to a stop underneath, Sannah's eyes raised up, looking for the only destination she really wanted: the stop that led to Birchwood, Westway.

Maybe—

Judit's hand in hers suddenly contracted, gripped her so hard it hurt.

"Ow!" Sannah exclaimed, tried to pull her arm away. "Judit! What-"

Judit's eyes were huge, round. Did she look... happy? No, no, it wasn't happiness. It was fear. No, not fear. Dismay? Sorrow?

Judit's eyes never left that space, over Sannah's left shoulder, transfixed on what she'd seen.

"I'm sorry Sannah," Judit croaked. Her eyes still didn't move.

She looked at Sannah now. Her voice was barely audible. "I'm so sorry. We're dagged. I think we've been caught."