She retreated from the corner and considered herself. She was covered in mud and blood and stank like a drowned rat. If she appeared before people, they would treat her like one too. So she would have to slink like a rat. She took off her waterlogged socks and shoes and threw them down the sloping river bank, hoping that the streets on this side were all free from rusty nails.

She stuck to the narrow alleyways between buildings and began to work her way deeper into this strange city. The buildings near her were low and made of red brick with stone trim and had decorated wooden facades adorning their front windows. She recognized them as fully automated retail stores. Inside, robot attendants would help you find whatever you needed. She had read there were so many options that even deciding what to buy was a hassle, hence these attendants synced with your known habits and tastes and became your personal shopping assistants. In clothing stores, a robotic tailor could custom make your outfit to be unique to you alone.

As a UBI kid, she had never set foot in one of these. Only the gainfully employed could afford it, but she had read articles about them. UBI clothes were made in bulk, and you could only pick from 5 different solid colors, or a simple pattern that represented which UBA facility you lived in.

In the distance stood a cluster of towering skyscrapers of sleek glass and steel. They were devoid of hard angles and formed strange curving organic shapes stabbing into the sky, each one eerily unique and beautiful. The light reflected off their smooth surfaces in a way that accentuated their structure and didn’t cause glare. She had never seen anything like them before, not in books or on the internet. Best to avoid them for now.

She poked her head out from an alley onto a lane built for foot traffic. The road was made of smooth cobblestones and was too narrow for vehicles. No one else was around, so she ventured out from her hiding spot and checked the shops. Unlike the red brick of the previous area, these all had a Bavarian theme with plaster walls and half-timbered cross beams. The roofs were steep and slanted as if the builders had expected heavy snow, but there was no space between the buildings for snow to fall into. This area didn’t get heavy snow, so she assumed it was to fit the aesthetic.

The shop directly across from her had an arched entrance and the word ‘Apotheke’ painted over the top of the arch. ‘Pharmacy’ was painted on the glass door, for those who didn’t speak German. The next shop down had faux terraces filled with flowers, and the word ‘Blumenladen’ on its sign. There was a toy store, a clothing store, and a sporting goods store, plus one called ‘Olde Tyme Fotos’ where customers could dress up and get their picture taken. There were no people anywhere.

She tried to figure out what was going on. She thought maybe she had wandered into some kind of theme park on a day when it was closed, but there were no rides as far as she could see. She realized that she had no idea what day of the week it was. Things like that didn’t matter in the slums, and how would you keep track anyways?

She wandered down the street a bit, enjoying the warm smooth feel of the stones under her feet. She hoped it was a closed down theme park. She would be able to find a food stand to raid, assuming it wasn’t permanently closed down. She moved closer to the clothing store, searching for signs of recent use.

“Hey there! Step into Lieblingsmode, the finest boutique outside of Munich! Experience the breezy feel of alpine elegance today!”

Jeffiner choked on her heart as it leapt into her throat, letting out a squeak of shock. Her eyes darted around, searching for the source of the voice, and locked onto a figure inside what seemed to be a full-length mirror attached to the wall of the store. Out of the mirror stared a familiar face– her own. The face was dirty and thin, with sunken cheeks and hollow eyes, wide with surprise. A slight trail of dried blood ran down the figure’s mouth. Jennifer instinctively wiped at her chin with her hand and the figure did the same, leaving a trail of grime over the blood.

Despite the similarity, she was unable to recognise herself at first. The figure in the mirror was wearing a beautiful floral print sundress and a broad brimmed straw hat with a red ribbon. When she looked down she saw only her mud-caked pants and plain shirt. She raised a hand and waved at the mirror, and the girl in the mirror waved back. Then she realized what was happening.

There was an almost imperceptible lag in the motion of the figure, trailing a fraction of a second behind her. She wiped her hands on her shirt, leaving a streak of dirt. In the mirror, the girl wiped her hands on her sundress. The fabric flowed smoothly and realistically under her fingers, but remained clean.

She had studied these sorts of screens in her STEM classes. They were made of a metamaterial matrix of molecule-sized tubes, which could project a completely different image in different directions, so what you saw would change depending on where you were standing. Just like a mirror, only it was a computer controlled screen. The cobblestone street and the shopface behind her were reflected in the screen. The only alteration to reality was her clothing.

As she stood still and stared at it, the figure suddenly gave a broad smile, full of immaculate white teeth and did a little pirouette, sending the hem of the dress fluttering out around her, then settled back into a mirrored posture.

“Would you like to try a different style?” Asked a bright woman’s voice, her enthusiasm contained within a veneer of professionalism.

Jennifer quickly moved away from the store, and the mirror faded to black. These screens did their trick by building a computer model from the images of several hidden cameras which captured the scene from many different angles. It was just an ad, but it meant that she was on camera. It also answered her question. If this shop was powered up and working, people must still come here. That meant risk of discovery, but it also meant food.

She ran down the street until she found an alley she could duck into. It led to a dim service street behind the shops. Here was still clean, but didn’t receive much natural light. The backs of another row of shops faced it from the opposite side. She spotted a dumpster and her mouth started watering in expectation. Then she smelled it.

Wafting down this narrow back street came the distinct and delicious aroma of freshly baked bread and the sweet scent of pastries. It was heaven. It was torture. Her stomach cramped and knotted and she bent over cradling it as she followed the smell.

She followed it upwind until she came to another alley, this one leading into a new street. Rather than cobblestones, it was a futuristic matte black that refused to reflect the sunlight. There was a slight hum echoing down the alley.

Attached to the side of one of the buildings was an exhaust vent. Hot, shimmering air flowed out of it, carrying the scent of a kitchen baking at full tilt. Next to the vent was a side door, and next to the door was another dumpster. There was no lock. Hands shaking, ignoring all risk, she ran to it and lifted the black plastic cover and gasped in delight.

Sitting on top of the pile of trash was a clear plastic bag filled to the brim with bread crusts. She snatched it out and ripped it open. She dropped to her knees right there in the alley and started shoveling bread into her watering mouth. Her mother always told her hunger was the best spice, but this was orgasmic flavor. Soft and fluffy, still warm and fresh. She would have sold a kidney for a week old moldy roll, but this was like the mana of the gods. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and she willed herself to slow down. She would never forgive herself if she ate too fast and threw it up.

Enraptured by this culinary delight, she didn’t notice the approaching voices until it was too late.

Laughter echoed as three boys in school uniforms walked down the street and in front of her alley. They looked to be teenages and each had a school bag slung over his shoulder. They were chatting and laughing. The first two passed on without a glance towards her, but the third stopped dead in his tracks. For an instant, they locked eyes: Jennifer kneeling in the alley, her cheek puffed out like a chipmunk with her bread crusts, and him, frozen mid-step with a look of curious wonder.

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She pivoted on her heels and hid behind the dumpster, hugging the bag to her chest possessively.

“Hey Markus, let’s go!” One of the boys called out.

Jennifer’s heart began to hammer inside her chest.

“I forgot one of my books back at school, you guys go on without me!” the boy called Markus answered. She heard the sound of running feet.

“Hey! Just send a servant to pick it up for you!” Another called after him.

“I bet he just doesn’t want to go to the arcade with us. Did you hear the rumor that his dad doesn’t let him have any pocket money?”

“No shit, I bet that’s true! I heard a rumor he collects glass bottles so he can get the deposit money.”

“Yeah! And I heard he….”

The voices grew fainter as the two boys continued on.

Jennifer took several deep breaths to steady herself. She didn’t want to admit it, but he had seen her. They had looked directly into each other’s eyes. But it was bright out in the street, and dark in her alley. What had he really seen? A dark figure darting behind a dumpster at least. Was he going back to find a police officer? It seemed like the most likely outcome.

With a shaking hand she took another bread crust out of the bag and popped it into her mouth. Then she collapsed back against the dumpster and started to cry. She was just so tired. Maybe being arrested wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe they would feed her at the station.

She just sat there, crying and eating bread crusts for several minutes.

“Hey, are you still there?” Came a gentle voice from up the alley. “You want a banana?”

She poked her head out and saw the same boy again, but he was alone. There was no police officer in sight. “Woah!” He exclaimed at her sudden appearance and took a step back, but then extended his hand, holding a bright yellow banana.

“You’re Markus.” She said.

“That’s right. What’s your name?”

“...Jennifer.”

“Well Jennifer, what brings you to this part of town? Where are you from?”

“I’m from the slums, over the river. I was starving to death.”

“Holy shit, you’re from the slums? They really exist?”

He was staring at her with the most vividly crystal blue eyes she had ever seen. She wondered if he was wearing some kind of colored contacts. She looked at the banana in his hand, and then back to his eyes. He leaned forward and extended his hand carefully, as if he was offering food to a scared animal that might run at any moment. It reminded her of the pimp with the apple and it kind of pissed her off.

She stood up and looked him in the eye, finding that he was only slightly taller, and probably just because he was wearing shoes. She took the banana, trying to look confident and self-assured.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. They give them away for free over in the pavilion, but you might, uh, have some trouble looking like…”

“Like a drowned rat.” She finished for him.

He shrugged. “You look like you’ve been through a lot. Where are your parents?”

She considered her options. This guy didn’t seem to grasp the concept of what the slums were. As a rule, kids there didn’t have parents, or at least not parents that cared about them. His eyes were sparkling as he looked at her, as if he had just found something novel and marvelous. She might be able to get more food out of him if she played her cards right. Telling him the truth was going to sound like a sob story and he probably wouldn’t believe it. But she had no experience making up lies either.

“They’re dead. They were murdered.”

His eyes went wide and a look of horror spread over his face.

“Oh my god, have you told the police?” He asked.

“The police are the ones who killed them.” She blurted out, and immediately regretted it. It was true, but no way was he going to believe that.

And yet his face went dark with anger, and he clenched his fist.

“Damn pigs!” He shouted, and then repeated under his breath, “Damn pig bastards! I mean… I’m very sorry for your loss.”

She marveled at her amazing good luck. Not only had she found fresh bread, but this ‘Markus’ guy who had found her was a gullible idiot. He believed whatever she told him without a question. It made her want to push her luck and see what she could get away with.

“Um, can… can you help me?”

He looked her up and down, considering for almost a full minute.

“Hmm, a starving orphan from the slums, huh?” He looked back to her face, and that sparkle was back in his eyes. “Yeah, I think we can work something out. Do you want a job?”

“A job?”

It was her turn to be surprised. Jobs were something you had to compete fiercely for, beating out thousands or tens of thousands of rivals. They were not handed out by teenage boys on street corners. What job could she do that couldn’t be done better by a robot? Then she remembered the banana. And the apple. And the pimp. There was only one job she could do. And a teenage boy would definitely want her to do it.

“Yes, but you’ll have to interview for it. Are you ready?”

“R-right here, right now?” She stammered. “But I’m filthy.”

She considered making a run for it, but… what then? She hesitated, and he continued:

“Nevermind that. First question: If I take you home with me, are you going to murder me in my sleep?” He asked, eyes still twinkling.

“No.” She answered, disgusted by the question. Did he expect her to admit it if she would?

“Excellent! Next, are you mentally stable?”

“Yes!” She answered, her indignance growing. She knew what question was coming. She would run when he said it. She had already been asked once: You know how to suck dick, kitten?

“Good, good, now can you clean and do laundry?”

“Yes.”

She thought maybe he had to work himself up to it. He didn’t have the dangerous aura of a pimp. If so, it was possible she could string him along and get something after all.

“I hate to ask this, and I’m sure we can still work something out if the answer is no, but… can you read and write?”

She flushed, provoked by the unexpected question. A lifetime of study only to be asked this in a dark alley was unbearable.

“I can do calculus!”

He narrowed his eyes and looked hard at her.

“Establishing trust is important early in any relationship. It’s not good to lie.”

Her cheeks burned. She desperately wanted to prove him wrong, but she had gone a step too far and couldn’t back it up.

“Fine. I can solve polynomials. And I read and write at college level, at least by the old standards.” She said, this time sticking to what she could confidently demonstrate.

“Impressive! Just one more question then–”

There was something off about this guy. Sure, even a gullible idiot would doubt her on calculus, but why then take her word for it on everything else? She got the sense that she was missing something, that something was going on in this interaction that she wasn’t aware of. The way those bright blue eyes never left her face when he questioned her was giving her chills.

“Who are you?” She suddenly interrupted.

He bowed courteously, placing one hand in front of his waist, and the other behind his back.

“Markus Marcellinus, at your service.”

She recognized the last name. It was an unusual one, but it appeared in her history books. In the midst of the automation revolution, the family had risen to prominence on the political machinations of its patriarch and been one of the first families ennobled by the new government. This boy was obviously from an employed family, and they sometimes did strange things. Taking the same name as a noble family wasn’t illegal, as long as you didn’t try to impersonate them. She decided to get back at him by calling him out on it.

“Any relation to Lucius Marcellinus, the so-called kingmaker?” She asked with a smirk.

“That would be my esteemed father.”

“It’s not good to lie.” She said, relishing the chance to throw his words back at him.

In response, Markus reached into his pocket and drew out a golden ring. Set in its center was a huge crystal with a stylized black M encased inside. It was a signet ring of a noble house. It was extremely illegal to have one of these if you weren’t actual nobility. She stared at it, finally at a loss for words.

“That’s a good segway to my final question– will you trust me?” He asked.

She looked up at him and didn’t answer.

“I can get you in, but only if you trust me and do exactly as I say. I won’t be able to protect you if you bolt. Can you do that? Can you put your fate in the hands of a man you just met?”

Markus offered his hand to her, palm up. She raised her own, but hesitated.

“I swear on the honor of my house that I will not betray you.”

She reached out and took his hand.