“..conscript would be-Proxies? My good chancellors, we will not have to. I will make them famous. I will make them beautiful. I will make them rich. Once we’ve achieved that, we will not have conscript them; they will come to us.” - extract from The New World Order, apocrypha, banned by Federated decree

At times, the camps were dangerous places. A home where a crime lord might take a liking to you, and when a ‘no’ could be hazardous to your health.

Inevitably, when such things occurred, you had to bluff, or lie. Depending on your ability to do so, you might live, you might die or you might suffer a fate worse than death.

So when Chiyo spoke her surname, Martin drew on that talent and smiled. He squeezed her hand, still caught in her grip. “Martin Solieri.” He saw the opportunity.

“But you already knew that.”

Chiyo sighed. “You saw your profile?”

“I’m a suspicious person, so when I am summoned to an arcology, given an access way beyond what I should have and a nameless Proxy starts asking question…”

His shoulders rose, a performance meant to suggest the upset he felt. In his heart Martin carried a wish; that he might leverage this in some manner.

“And the fact that I can’t even see what’s in the my profile only makes it worse.” He had to toe the line here, not accuse of her crimes, yet still play on her emotions. Access 3 made him an ordinary citizen of the arcology, whereas she was essential personnel for mankind continued survival.

Chiyo’s eyes widened. “You can’t see it either?”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Martin simply stared at her. “So you’re not the Proxy who made that scan five years ago?” A tint of real anger bled through the mask. Federated law was clear on permission; you had to have explicit consent to scan another person.

Chiyo scratched her brow, lips wide, mouth open as if to say something. “There seems to be some confusion here. I,” she pointed one manicured finger at herself,”was the Proxy who did the initial scan. It’s one of those things we’re taught during our internship. But I’m not the Proxy who gave your errand priority. That was someone else.”

Interning? He had more important thoughts to consider.

Her words confirmed Martin’s thoughts about two Proxies being involved in whatever this was. The other thing she had mentioned however…

“You can’t tell who this Proxy, senior Proxy is?”

“No,” she said with energy,”and that’s what’s so interesting. Only someone very old could have marked it like that. That, and the fact that your brain waves-“ she abruptly stopped.

“What?” His calm fractured. His mind went down a path of about lesions, cancers, the more subtle ways in which the Host fought. Had she called him to the arcology so that he might enjoy a few last months before he died?

No, he calmed himself. If that had been the case, she would have done something. A scion of the Moyamoto family wouldn’t have let an innocent die, that much he knew.

Chiyo drew circles around the rim of her beer with a finger. “How much do you know about forerunners and Proxies?”

“Forerunners?”

“Deputies.”

“I know that Proxies wear their armors and kill members of the Host. Deputies have Implants made from the corpses of the Host, and that they’re limited in their abilities, unlike Proxies.”

“The usual then. But!” She pointed one finger at him. Her nails, he noted, were blue.

“Do you how they’re picked?”

“There are tests…” Martin suddenly wondered; for everyone knew there were tests, but when he began to consider it, no specifics came to mind. The obligatory exams that everyone had to pass to reach their majority involved scans, but not what they scanned for.

“Exactly. And one of those tests… well, let’s just keep it short and say that it has to do with brains, the way they perceive the world. The findings of the scan I did suggest your brain has certain qualities.”

“Meaning what?”

“Hold.”

The world stopped. Their bartender, who was polishing a glass, simply held his arm at an angle that would hurt a human.

The skylight in the ceiling, from which light streamed down, held the shape of a sheet.

The people at the tables halted, then simply seized doing whatever it was that they were doing. Motes of dust rose fro the counter. A stream of coffee flowed from a cup into one man’s mouth, a bridge forever.

Blue eyes homed in on him.

“Are you satisfied with your life, Martin? The drudgery, the petty crimes, the occasional fixing of a malfunctioning machine. Are you content with that?”

Martin’s pulsed quickened. She knew. He had wanted to leverage this meeting, and now he sensed the moment where his words would carry him. He would try to-

“Because those qualities that I spoke of? There is a chance you could be a forerunner, or even a Proxy.”

“Would you like that?”