I sat and ate breakfast with Tiffany in the cafeteria. It was busy with lots of teenagers coming and going. I kept my head down trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone. I usually did this anyway, though this time the extra effort to do so was a conscious one on my part. Breakfast was baked beans on buttered toast with a side portion of mushrooms. I never liked the look of mushrooms in nature. I once saw a documentary on TV about an ant that ate a mushroom which, horrifically, then took over the ant's brain. The mushroom parasite made the ant climb as high as it could to the top of a leaf and then finished taking the ant over, killing it and using the rest of its body as the fuel for further growth. Somehow cooked mushrooms reminded me just enough of chicken that I was able to overlook the ick they gave me.

Whilst we ate Tiffany explained how she had gone with Mikayla to speak with Mike about getting cigarettes. Smoking wasn't allowed in the facility, so nicotine gum and patches would have to suffice. Tiffany made an order for lots of nicotine gum; apparently having it brought to the facility meant Tiffany had to pay three times the normal price for them, and that extra cost came out of the two grand a week she was getting paid.

"It's whatever," Tiffany said, which I had learnt was her way of saying, I'm super pissed about this but I don't want to talk anymore about it.

"You know," she said, "I was thinking about getting a job here. Maybe one of the cleaning jobs. I've done that before."

"Not a bad idea," I said, "I'm not getting a job though."

"Why not?" said Tiffany.

"Two grand a week is plenty," I said, "I can't be bothered to work."

"Not even just to keep me company?" said Tiffany.

"Maybe," I said.

I leaned back in my seat, letting the satisfying food coma take hold of me. Tiffany popped another of her nicotine gums from the packet and put it in her mouth. Whilst she did this I continued to look at her as if trying to solve a puzzle.

"What?" said Tiffany, noticing me staring.

"Are you seriously not wearing make-up?" I said.

"Nah, why'd you keep asking?" she said.

"It's probably nothing," I said, "You just look more…I don't know…feminine?"

"You wot?" said Tiffany, screw-eyeing me.

I threw my hands up, "I don't mean anything by it," I said, "Sorry for mentioning it."

"Now I'm getting self-conscious about it," said Tiffany, "Thanks."

I felt a bit guilty for mentioning how I thought she looked different. How come she hadn't noticed this herself yet?

"When was the last time you looked in a mirror?" I said.

"Mate, are you still talking about this?" she said, getting genuinely upset.

"Fine," I said, "I'll leave it. Just don't say I didn't try to bring it up with you if you notice you look different later."

Tiffany sighed exasperatedly and stood up from her seat.

"I'm going to check my face, I'll be back," she said.

She left before I could respond. In the meantime I made myself a hot cup of tea from the machine set against the wall near the counter. Thankfully all cups of tea and coffee appeared to be free. I took a sip of my tea and relished how good it tasted (with milk of course).

I turned back to head to the table where Tiffany and I had sat before. Someone walked into me, pushing the paper cup of coffee I was holding against my chest and causing all the piping hot contents to spill down the front of my overalls. The pain lasted for a few seconds.

"Oh my gosh I'm sorry," said a familiar voice.

It was someone I hadn't spoken to before but recognised. It was Sophie, the blonde-haired girl with a ponytail that had been flirting with the Pied Piper officer before. She was quite short, and up close I could see she was also on the more rotund side.

She grabbed a tissue from the nearby counter and started trying to soak up the worst of the spill on my chest.

"It's fine," I said, a few times, "Don't worry about it."

"Sorry," she said again, "I should have looked where I was going."

There were several seconds where we might have struck up a conversation, but neither her or I seemed to want to dive into one. I wanted to ask her about her intentions with the Pied Piper officer, but that would also mean giving myself away that I knew that conversation had taken place, and there was the ever present concern that anything I said could be picked up and listened to from my Meter device. If she was up to something the less I made it obvious by talking to her about it the better.

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"Well," she said, awkwardly, "Sorry."

She shuffled off at a brisk pace. To where I didn't know, it seemed she was looking to be anywhere else than continue this encounter with me. I watched her leave, my mind reeling trying to process what had just happened.

"Hey," said Tiffany, a little breathlessly. I hadn't noticed her approaching, "What were you two talking about?"

"Oh," I said, "Nothing. She bumped into me and I spilled my tea on me."

"That's it?" said Tiffany.

"Yeah," I said.

Tiffany didn't seem satisfied with the answer but she let it go.

"Look," she said, holding up her wrist. Her Meter was showing orange.

"Oh," I said.

"Yeah," she said, "I'm heading there now."

By 'there' she must have meant the exercise area.

"You're right by the way," she said, "There's something different about…"

She struggled to get the next few words out, "...my face. It kind of does look like I'm wearing make-up, init?"

"Yeah," I said, "Did you…do something to your face?"

Tiffany shook her head, "No," she said, "I don't know what's up. Look, I need to go. Maybe we can figure out what's going on with it later?"

"Yeah," I said.

"What are you going to do?" she said.

"Eh," I said, gesturing to the stain on my overalls, "Need to replace this."

"Cool," said Tiffany.

She smiled, "I'm glad you're okay. Try not to get into trouble while I'm gone."

I gave two thumbs up and then Tiffany jogged off in the direction of the exercise area. I headed off to the nearby kiosk where Tiffany and I had talked with George before. Yesterday I had gotten a fresh pair of overalls; I seemed to get through them pretty quickly. When I arrived at the kiosk it was empty. There were several teenagers in the corridor passing by but none that were waiting at the kiosk. I approached and looked around, noticing that the door behind the kiosk was open.

"Hello?" I called out. Maybe George or whoever was working at the kiosk today was inside. There wasn't an answer. I called again and again and there was no answer. After looking around some more I decided I didn't want to spend the rest of the day with the front of my overalls damp (I had experienced that enough with the blood before).

I approached the doorway and entered inside. Within, the space was narrow, with shelves on my left and right with lots of packets of freshly clean overalls. Further ahead there was a closed door and the sound of a machine working; whether it was a washing machine or dryer I couldn't tell; perhaps it was both.

"Hello?" I said again, though at a slightly lower volume. Something didn't feel right. I considered turning back but then told myself that if there was a machine running in the room ahead then that likely meant someone was around to use it. Maybe. All I knew was I needed new overalls and just taking a packet my size from the shelf would be my last resort. Just so I could say I did try to find someone if I were questioned about taking a packet without asking I pressed on, trying the handle of the door in front of me. It gave, and opened.

I entered within and found that the light was off but flickered to life, motion sensing lights catching my movement. Ah, I thought, Nobody's around.

It was then I spotted someone curled up on the floor in the corner of the room with their arms wrapped around their knees.

It was George.

"Hey, you okay?" I said.

George began to scream and wail and sob like something from a nightmare. I froze, not knowing what to do. He continued to scream uncontrollably. His head thrashed from side to side and he brought his hands to his face, covering it.

"George, what's wrong?" I said.

"Pl-please l-leave!" he cried out.

"But what's wrong, mate?" I said.

"Please!" he begged, "J-just leave!"

He didn't look hurt, and there wasn't anything in the room that seemed like it could be a danger to him or anyone else. Maybe he was just upset about something and needed the space.

"Okay," I said, "Do you need me to get someone?"

"No!" he cried out, "Please just go!"

I did as he asked. I left the room, closing the door behind me. I went out to the kiosk and stood there for several minutes. I didn't know what to do. Part of me hoped that if anyone was listening to what happened from my Meter device they would take action and sort the problem out. George had said he didn't need help so I didn't try to circumvent his request. Now however I was responsible for him. I had found him crying and if I left him alone and something happened to him then that would be on me. I continued waiting by the kiosk; several teenagers asked if I was working at the counter but I simply said I wasn't.

After about twenty minutes George came out the back and stood at the kiosk. He looked exhausted from crying but he was already putting on a forced friendly smile.

"Oh hey," he said, "Sorry about that. So embarrassing."

"Are you okay, man?" I said.

"Oh yeah," said George.

His eyes told a different story. He was silently pleading, stop asking me.

"We can catch up later, okay?" he said.

"Sure," I said, "You're sure you don't need anything?"

"Very sure," he said, "Everything's okay."

He noticed the stain on my overalls.

"Oh, silly me," he said.

He grabbed a fresh set of overalls for me and handed it over. I went through the motions of tapping my ID card to the reader, though it felt strange to do so given what had just happened with George and how he was trying to pretend everything was okay.

"There you go," he said in a forced sing-song tone.

"Okay…" I said, "Can we talk later tonight?"

"Oh yeah sure," said George, "Sounds good."

I felt as if I were talking to a robot. I headed off towards B-9 trying to figure out what had just happened.