Seymour Willis sat at his computer in the kitchen of his studio apartment. He poured himself a fresh cup of coffee while he reviewed the forum for fresh talent for his most important client. “I need to find someone for the Sultan, soon. His boat leaves the mainland in a week,” Seymour said to the cat that walked across his desk. These late nights exhausted Seymour, but he had orders to fill. One of his appreciative clients had introduced him to the Sultan, who had specific requirements for another addition to his harem. He had requested a young Caucasian girl, no older than eighteen, intelligent, and feisty. I don’t know why he is so specific. Hopefully the Photoist will come through for me, Seymour thought.

“Come to daddy, Rudolph.” His cat jumped into his lap at the sound of his master’s voice. Seymour opened his private messages folder on the private forum. “Ahh, a message from the Photoist,” Seymour said. Rudolph purred in his lap. The message read:

Taker,

I have another batch of pretties for your consideration.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Just enjoy!

—The Photoist

Attached to the message were six compressed files with .zip extensions. Seymour saved each one to its own special folder under the Taker’s top-level directory structure. He opened the first archive. There were several files in the folder. He opened the picture, which featured a girl in her late-teens. She had black hair, black lipstick, black fingernails, and several tattoos, including a large one of a serpent on her neck. He opened the accompanying audio file. Her voice sounded shrill and too young to match the picture. Seymour closed all the files and placed them into his reject folder. He didn’t erase any of the content he received from the Photoist; he saved them all to serve as alternates. He opened four additional profiles before taking a small break. He needed more coffee on this chilly winter’s day.

About an hour later, he opened the remaining folder. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the picture. It was a girl who appeared to be sixteen or seventeen. She had blond hair with pink streaks and a small ring piercing in her left nostril. Perfect! Seymour opened the recording. She sounded confident, sassy, and smart. Since the girl met most of his requirements, Seymour opened the final file in the folder: a text document with vital information. The Photoist had been very thorough. Seymour smiled; this was the best news he’d received all month.

“Time to make all the arrangements,” Seymour said as he cackled.

Rudolph hissed and ran away from Seymour.