When the latest message flashed on the vid screen, Ian banged his head against the wall. "Memory loss. What do you mean, what type? How many types are there?"

Teeth gritted, he typed again and received the same prompt.

From the list of possible problems, Ian chose the only symbols he could recognize. "Trauma, or illness." He wasn't good with using the weird touch keyboard but as Rinn wasn't familiar with the Colony and all the strange customs, Ian decided to do things manually rather than calling on the computer aloud.

He waited and when a beep sounded, he tapped the results.

No memory loss detected.

"No. that's wrong." He considered his options. The computer was usually infallible. "Norman," he whispered. "Norman. Run the scan again."

He waited but wasn't at all surprised when the words on the screen remained steady—no needed test. This was it. Calling on Norman was never a guarantee.

Head pressed against the wall, he slid to the floor and sat.

Ian opened his eyes and instantly wished he hadn't. On the floor, cushioned by countless pillows, Rinn lay watching him. The eyes were familiar, but Ian couldn't read Rinn's expression. Rather than taking his customary spot beside her the night before, Ian sat in the far corner, his head slumped against the wall much like now.

The long slumber probably meant Rinn couldn't move yet, but with each day, each hour, it would only be a matter of time before she could.

"Hey," Ian said.

Rinn gritted her teeth.

"It's me. Look. It's your Ian, it's me."

A tear fell from her right eye as she trembled, refusing to answer.

"Say something," he pleaded. "Say something—anything at all. It's been five years. Say something."

It had taken Rinn quite some time to even sit up on her own. Despite five years of slumber, she could move her upper body, but her legs remained unresponsive.

"Are you deaf? I said I wanna ask the questions instead," Rinn said, her jaw flexing as she waited.

Hearing Rinn's voice again made Ian's heart pump harder, so he nodded.

"Okay. What would you like to know?"

"I wanna know who you are. I wanna know what the hell I'm doing in the Colony. And I wanna know whose cell this is."

Ian's eyes widened as the buzzing sensation of joy started to dull. "How do you know you're in the Colony?"

A silence washed over them. Ian focused on Rinn's stern expression. With every second she stared, that slight feeling of hope withered away into one of dread.

Rinn's voice quivered, but she closed her eyes and let out a soft breath. "You said you'd answer my questions. Are you a Low-Lander?"

"No. It's me, Ian."

Her breath hitched.

"How do you know we're in the Colony, Rinnie? You fell asleep Topside."

"I'm not playing your game. Not when you chose that face. Not when you've brought me to the damn Clusters! That's where you drag a body to dismember or rape it, sometimes in that order. You said you're...." Rinn paused and sat back; all the energy faded from her.

The sudden silence made Ian lean forward, perching his elbows on his knees as he watched her. This wasn't the Rinn he knew. She had the same fight and fire, but something was off. She looked the same, her voice was the same, but this woman trembled, genuinely terrified. Rinn was no coward.

"Calm down," Ian said. "We're safe."

"Yeah. Safe." Rinn ground her teeth. "You took me underground without my permission. That's real safe."

"It's me, Ian. Don't you recognize me?"

"Say that name one more time," Rinn growled. "Say that word one more time and I'll make you regret it."

"Okay. We're underground because I carried you down here. You've been asleep for five years."

"Oh yeah?" Rinn raised an eyebrow at him. "Let me have a mirror."

Ian hesitated but complied. Everything in him said not to hand it over but he didn't see an alternative. Heart in his mouth, Ian held it up to Rinn's face.

"Here."

Rinn stared at her own reflection, her brown eyes watering. "I haven't aged, or...or anything. I look the same. If it's really been five years, then why the hell do I still have the same muscle tone, huh? And are you telling me someone's kept me in the exact same hairstyle for five years straight, too?"

Lowering the mirror, Ian sat back. He'd hoped Rinn could clue him in on this oddity. No. She hadn't aged in five years. Hair hadn't grown, fingernails were the same length. Absolutely nothing had changed. It was as if she was frozen in time. The horrified expression she wore meant she was just as upset about this strange finding.

"It's been five years?" she asked without a hint of amusement. "That's the best line you can come up with?" When he didn't answer, she stifled a sound—maybe a sob. "You have the nerve to wear that face. Who are you?"

Ian couldn't speak. Who else should he be but himself? They stared each other down for what felt like ages.

"You keep saying face. What do you mean by that?"

Rather than answering right away, she studied him. She studied him so long Ian feared the glare would cut him in two.

"Okay," Rinn said, relenting. "I'll play along. I'll play along and then you'll explain this all a bit clearer to me. Agreed?"

The sweetness in her tone put Ian on high alert. "I'm not sure I get you."

"Face. I say face because there are some people in the Colony who can mimic faces. Like—like you did. And it's...it's such a—a great talent. I've never seen someone do it quite so well." Rinn's grimace never amounted to a smile, though she made the effort. "I'm sure with a bit more enhancements, you could even afford the full body image. But the face is still an incredible feat. You'll tell me just how you did it, right? How about you drop it and we both start over? I can comply if I know your terms better. I don't know your terms as of now."

Her ramblings had Ian narrowing his brow, and he did so in panic. What she said was true, but how in the hell did she come about that information?

"Focus on my voice then," Ian insisted. "It's me."

"Voice modulator implant," Rinn quipped. "I don't want to ruin your fun, sir, but I need to know your terms."

The more she talked, the less at ease Ian felt. "Rinnie, it's me."

"You wanna do it this way, fine." Rinn's voice held gravel when she said, "Can I see your tattoo?"

The request confused Ian; he hadn't a tattoo on the surface. Still, without a valid brand it was impossible to enter the Colony so he considered it a reasonable request.

Ian watched Rinn as he rolled up his sleeve and offered his right forearm. Whatever Rinn saw there must have been enough, because she spoke softer.

"You're really from the Colony.... Then why...? Why am I in a cell?"

"We're not in a cell," Ian insisted, his voice too weak from the shock to hold any power. "We're not in a cell, Rinnie."

"Low ceiling, no way to hang yourself, no toilet to flush drugs. And no carpet to soak up spilled blood. But something's wrong with this cell—it's off the grid. The place doesn't light up."

"It was the cheapest place I could afford," Ian admitted. "I got a good deal on it. My boss didn't offer anything else."

This admission did little to change the look of worry plastered on Rinn's face.

"If.... How'd you get me into the Colony without a brand? You can't explain that, can you? So can we stop with this nonsense?"

It wasn't Ian's proudest achievement, but he earned this boast. "They tried everything—everything to reanimate you. Since they couldn't, they couldn't get permission for a brand."

Rinn watched him, body cringed. "Right."

"So," Ian said with a smile, "convinced them you were just...a body. Like—"

"Like property?" Rinn's breath hitched. "Is that what you mean?"

Ian's speech failed him.

"Pending allotment," the System said.

"System," Rinn screamed. "System, I need the guards."

Ian stumbled back. "What in the hell...?" She knew the computer's call name.

"This guy had a knife to my throat when I woke up. I...I don't know where I am, but I'm in a cell in the Clusters:"

Rinn looked up, waiting for a prompt from the computer but none came. She swallowed hard, another tear escaping her eye.

"Water rations pending." The System's voice faded with a chime. Rescue and escape were a long way off, it seemed, but something more important loomed over them. In the little one-room flat, devoid of a bed and furniture, Ian's only indulgence was water. "Allotment fulfilled."

Water was a luxury he couldn't afford to waste.

Unlike Rinn, who wore only a shirt and shorts, Ian wore his work uniform. He jumped to his feet and hurried to unbutton the top.

"Hey!" From the pillows, Rinn watched his every move. "Hey, what are you doing?"

Stark naked, Ian padded over to her and crouched down. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I can't get much water. If we miss this allotment, we won't get another wash for a while."

"Let's talk about the terms first," Rinn pleaded. "I have a right to know the terms."

Ignoring her, Ian reached for her shirt. "We'd best hurry."

"You don't have to take me to the fucking tub, you piece of shit!"

Five years of slumber had left Rinn's blows weak, though the power they did have was surprising. Rinn grabbed a handful of Ian's hair and yanked it with all her might.

"You're not gonna put me in a tub, you psycho."

Ian gritted his teeth and caught hold of Rinn's fist, squeezing until the grip loosened. "Rinnie—"

"You pig, you sick pig. Get off me! At least have the decency to wait until this tranquilizer wears off."

"Rinn!" Ian caught the fingers aiming to scratch him. The slap in the mouth he gave Rinn shocked the both of them into silence. Stunned, Ian lowered his hands then hurried to his feet. "Oh God, oh God. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Hang on, hang on."

He returned with a small silver shoebox.

"God, oh God. It was reflex. I didn't mean to do that. It's superficial; I can mend it with this."

Ian brought the pen to Rinn's bottom lip, but the woman pulled away.

"I didn't mean it, Rinn. Let me fix it."

"I won't cause any more trouble." Rinn sucked on her bottom lip. By the time she spoke again, all traces of the wound vanished. "Please. I promise. Just don't put me in the tub. Any other way you wanna do this...but not that."

Lowering the unused silver pen, Ian pressed two buttons on its side and the gentle humming ceased. Rinn's body shook. Ian looked at his own arms and found that he was trembling as well.

"Please." Eyes closed, Rinn stifled a sob. "Just let me go. Whatever you gave me to paralyze me, just...if you let me call a medic, I won't tell anyone what happened."

With a heavy heart, Ian stood. Several cushions had scattered, and he gathered them close. As soon as he touched Rinn's skin, intending to help her lie down again, Rinn let out a howl.

"I promise I won't tell anyone. I promise! I promise." Her voice shook as she struggled to lower it to a whisper. "I don't care how you get rid of me, just not that way. Please, not that way."

Stunned into a state of numbness, Ian stepped back, unsure of what to say or do. Closing his gaping mouth felt like a chore, especially when Rinn began whispering, "Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...."

Though Rinn couldn't move her legs, she had full function of her hands, which she clasped as she continued to pray. It seemed to calm her, but it sent Ian into a state of distress.

Ian darted for the door; the furthest location from her. He dragged on his clothes. Rinn's anguished cries were hard to shake. The first time in five years that he had talked directly to Rinn, and this was how he would have to remember that voice: heavy with vitriol and disgust.

That familiar pain in the back of his spine returned but this time he welcomed it—it hurt far less than Rinn's tearful prayers.

Ian's body vibrated.

He thought to approach her again. "Rinn...."

Rinn's sobs drowned out her words. She refused to open her eyes. With that, Ian watched her. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with her. Something...that would take money to fix. Money...he didn't have.

Rather than risk approaching, he observed her in silence. An hour passed and the System's voice rang through. "Water draining. Unused allotment at 100 percent. Future reserves will wane."

Water only came once every two weeks unless he worked—something he could no longer do as of now.

On a normal day, that water warning meant something. At this very moment, nothing did. Not the pain ripping through him; not his plans; not the significance of this day. Nothing.

The flickering strip of light above the threshold blinked to life—he had a message. He hesitated but after glancing back to Rinn, still whispering to herself on the cushions, that grim scene broke him. He decided he'd welcome any company.

He touched the wall by the door and a vid screen came into view.

"Tell, nice to see you amongst the land of the living. I've got some new assignments to make up for the royal mess you made of that last one."

Carlos.

This was the last face Ian wanted to see.

"Not now, boss. I have a situation."

Two green eyes blinked at Ian. "Are you insane?" Carlos marveled. "These are not people you cross. I put my reputation on the line getting it to you. This next one's a fight and it'll make up for the blunder yesterday. It's top dollar. All you have to—"

Beep. Ian shut off the message. That was something else to contend with.

A glance back at Rinn's terrified expression showed Ian he had his hands full. With the allotment of medicine, he could manage for a few more days. Maybe it'd be enough.

"Water draining," the System announced.

That, too, was probably for the best. Ian decided to wait this out. Rinn'd come around. He was certain.

She had to. She had to come around. Now he was faced with another problem...the receptors.

He dropped the black bag onto the floor and flopped down with it. Legs folded at the ankles, knees spread apart, he rubbed his face. Thoughts of the morning's events prompted him to check the backs of his hands. When he saw pale flesh instead of the metal strip, he was satisfied. Getting worked up would only trigger the damn receptors.

Ian himself hadn't known their meaning when he first entered the Colony—nearly no one was given the luxury of them anymore. Despite that, they had been prevalent enough in the Colony's heyday that nearly each and every Colony dweller knew them on sight. If Rinn saw them.... Maybe she wouldn't understand.

No. What she recognized of the Colony—or thought she did—was frightening. Letting the receptors go live was no option.

He took inventory of all of his rations and came up wanting. That realization prompted him to rummage through his bag for a small black box. He opened it and reviewed its contents. He counted and recounted each pill.

"It's not enough. Shit. That fucker stiffed me. It's not enough." He snapped the box closed in his fist and rubbed his face. "It's only enough for the week. I don't understand." His heart raced and head spun as he tried to make sense of everything. "It's not enough. Not even slightly."

A part of him wished Carlos would call back so he could give the bastard a piece of his mind. A bigger part felt defeated. Now instead of considering this an option, he hesitated.

His eyes drifted to Rinn again. She tensed up and he sighed.

This isn't how it's supposed to go. What the hell is wrong with you, Rinnie? You're supposed to wake up and we'd escape together, like you always promised. And I'd believed it every time you'd said it.

"Protocol five, seven, one." It came as a whisper and then a shout. "Protocol five, seven, one!"

Ian picked his head up and focused on Rinn who eyed him as well.

"Protocol accepted. Shutting down all heat in five, four, three, two....""

A faint hum fell over the room and Ian rose to his feet like a puppet on a string. "What in the love of all fuck?"

When the System said all heat, it wasn't joking. Till now, the Colony never felt this frigid. Ian called out, "System. Turn on the heat."

"Protocol engaged. Please renege said protocol to restore heating."

"Renege? I don't even know what the fuck she just did." He turned to Rinn but she wasn't finished.

"Protocol ninety-one dash three."

When she shut her eyes tight, Ian should have taken a hint.

"Protocol engaged," the System announced.

The room went white.

"UV light engaged for cleaning. Extreme measures. This protocol will complete in approximately two minutes."

Blinded, Ian fell to the ground and felt around. "System, stop."

"Not a cell, huh?" Rinn said. "Try telling that to the prison overrides, asshole. Protocol twelve dash twelve, you son of a bitch."

"Five protocols engaged. Commencing delousing in five, four, three, two, one...."

Heat wafted from the floors. He nearly mistook it for a fire. He risked opening his eyes to see several wall panels flip around to reveal bug-shaped machines. Till now, he'd never known those panels could open much less store such sophisticated tech. The giant metal bugs detached themselves and scurried to the ground.

Rinn's expression held both relief and satisfaction. Three of the bots buzzed to life, the blades under their bellies activated. Ian watched in horror as they barreled down on him. They passed him by, heading straight for Rinn.

"No," the woman moaned. "No. You're not supposed to go after me." Metal claws extended and caught hold of her right foot.

Panic wore off enough for Ian to remember to react. He got up to kick one, but it only caught his boot and tossed him back.

Five more bots headed Rinn's way. Ian made a hard choice. He rushed to her and flipped her over. Everyone was said to keep their strongest weapon with what they valued most—his lay under Rinn's cushions, disassembled.

He dragged the three pieces together in record time and fired. A loud pop preceded a bang. He got all five.

That victory was short lived.

"Phase two of delousing protocols engaged. Please touch a wall."

Both of them looked up in unison but it was Rinn who gasped.

"Phase two?" Rinn swallowed hard. "Protocol twelve dash three, explain."

They waited for an answer, but the System ended the countdown and the metal fibers of the bots shimmered then assembled.

"Great," Ian breath out. "Just great. Shut it off!"

Rinn opened her mouth to perhaps do just that but paused. When their eyes met, she found her resolve.

"Sooner die with that than you, psycho." She stared him down and said, "System, Protocol five, five, three one."

"Five suppression measures engaged. Oxygen removal in five, four...."

"Don't..." Ian warned but it was too late. The door leading to the tub slammed shut.

Rinn's expression turned cold. "Extreme measures," she commanded. Her eyes still met Ian's as she challenged, "How long can you hold your breath, you prick?"

Ian gave up. "You want me dead because you don't think you know who I am—you don't think I'm me. But what if I am...? What if I am and you've made a mistake? Can you live with that? Can you honestly risk that? Because I'd cut my own throat before hurting you."

The look of hate held contempt. "Speaking of throats; you had a knife to mine."

He was equally defiant. "And a gun to my own head right after, yeah."

He meant to say more but there was no breath left to take after that. Falling to his knees, he gritted his teeth and hunched over.