Marzipan wafts up my nose, rising from my freshly brewed Courage. This time, I got the whip just right—delicate ridged peaks perch on top of the brown ceramic cup. It’s very photogenic. I could post it to Social.

I wish I could show it to Dani.

“That’s pretty good!” Ike grins and motions to my cup reassuringly, but there’s something uncomfortable about his demeanour. He was pretty friendly with Dani the other day. Maybe they’re partners?

“Thanks,” I reply. “Is it opening time yet?”

He glances at his watch. “Still five minutes. So, hey, I’m sorry I didn’t stop to chat longer the other day—”

“No, it’s fine. Seems like you and Dani are close?”

Ike rubs his neck with a smile. As if realising how telling this tick is, he switches and ruffles his short black hair. Oh yeah, he’s got it bad.

“Yeah, Dani’s great...”

“Mmm.” There it is again. Let’s all worship at the altar of Dani. I beam at him before taking another huge gulp of Courage. I’ll need it to face Frank. “Are you in for long?”

“Nah, I’m only staying for an hour or so to help you open up. Not meant to be on shift at all this week, I’m on leave.”

“Shouldn’t you be off on a trip?” I ask. That’s what people do on leave, right?

“Nah,” Ike takes out his phone and swipes a few times. “I take time off to paint. Look—” He turns his phone to me. His feed’s an endless stream of abstract paintings—colour blocks and swirls, spirals and strange three-dimensional blobs. One picture shows an amorphous splodge of brown paint with two grey dots and a black mass on top. A self-portrait?

“It’s really pretty!” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Ike winces and puts his phone away. Whoops, I don’t get art.

I drain the rest of my cup so I’ll have something to do. Yanking open the dishwasher, I place the mug at the back. Before I know it, me and Ike are avoiding each other’s gaze again.

Bravo, Kyla. You saved yourself hours of uncomfortable non-socialising there!

“Melly, what’s the time?” I ask in desperation.

“The time is eight fifty-seven am. Three minutes remain before opening time.”

Ike drums a beat on the counter, apparently as awkward as I am.

“Look, Ike, you can go—”

“No, I’m staying, it’s cool. I had help when I started and you should, too.”

It’s sweet of him. I hate that. I don’t deserve sweet right now.

The back door bangs open. “Ike?” Frank calls without coming into view, “You there?”

“Yeah boss,” Ike says, “Kyla’s here too, all punctual and such.”

“Good, send her through.”

I don’t like that tone, gruff and impatient. I was worried about this.

Ike raises his eyebrows at me and nods to the back office. “Off you pop.”

I have no idea what Frank wants with me. After yesterday’s drama, probably nothing good. I trail over to the office and knock the door.

“Yeah,” Frank calls from inside, “told you to come, didn’t I?”

I open the door and walk in, head bowed. “Hi, Frank.”

He motions to the chair without looking at me. “Sit.”

I sit down—in the same chair as yesterday; I remember with a shudder—and await my punishment.

“Right. Ike’s gonna open up for you, so we have some time to talk. Gotta keep it quiet though. We don’t want anyone hearing.”

Remembering what Caleb had said last night, I check the walls for cameras.

“CCTV is off, for now. We’re in private,” he says.

How does he read minds like this? Am I that transparent? “Frank, about yesterday—”

“Did you know?” He remains standing, his broad shoulders squeezed into the corner of the tiny office. He doesn’t look angry—there’s no malice anywhere on his face. He looks… tired. His cheekbones always stand out above his grey beard, but today his cheeks look more sunken than usual. The brow still hangs heavy over his eyes, shading them, but not with disdain or anger. He’s just sad. Sad and tired.

He seemed fond of Dani, too.

“Did I know… what?” I keep my voice quiet and low, hoping he understands I’m not being cocky. I just don’t know what he means.

“Did you know what Harding was doing? That he’d take Dani to reform?”

“No! See, he gave me something. He said it was water, but…”

“And you drank it?” Again, not anger—disbelief, maybe. Frank sits heavily on his side of the desk, rubbing his face with his hands. His eyes are red and puffy as ever. Has he even slept?

“I’m sorry, I—”

“You gotta learn how Skycross works, Kyla.”

Ouch. “I didn’t know what he was doing. I’m sorry.”

He sighs, nodding his head. “Alright. I believe you. I’m trying to help Dani. In the meantime, I need you to help me.”

“Anything.” I lean forward, eager to hear it.

“I should explain a few things first.” Frank opens a drawer in his desk and takes out his tablet. While it boots up, he points a finger at me. “None of what I’m about to tell you leaves this room. Do you agree?”

“Of course.” You can’t lose this job, Kyla.

“You don’t have to agree to what I’m going to ask, but if you want to stay, you have to be with us. If you’re not…” Frank opens the drawer again, takes out a small thumb-sized vial, and places it pointedly on the desk. It’s filled with black liquid, thick as tar.

“This is Oblivion. You heard of it?”

I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from the threatening bottle.

“I know my syrups, Kyla. Oblivion makes you forget. The dosage has to be just right, or you might forget too much. But I know exactly the right dosage. Do you understand?”

This drags my gaze to Frank’s face. He’s dead serious. My foot jiggles involuntarily, and his stern features soften.

“I’m not trying to scare you, Kyla. I just need you to understand—what I’m about to tell you could get many people, myself included, in trouble. If we get in another situation like yesterday… I can’t have you spilling everything to Harding and his goons again. Got it?”

“Yeah, I won’t say a word.”

“Alright.” Frank puts the vial of Oblivion back in his desk drawer.

Sit straight, Kyla. You haven’t done anything wrong. The Courage flares again, bringing me back to centre.

“Know why people come here, Kyla?”

“To buy drinks.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, of course. But why do they need them?”

“I… don’t know. I guess it’s just a sort of treat?”

Frank nods. “For some. For others, it’s a coping mechanism. A way to escape, or push other feelings down. And for others, it’s a luxury only they can afford—a status symbol. That Courage you had this morning, know how much it costs?”

I suck in a breath. “I thought it was a—”

“It’s fine.” He places his tablet between us so I can see the screen. “It’s a perk of working here. But say you’re working in the factories, that dose of Courage would set you back…” He runs a finger down the chart. “Sixty-two credits.”

Wow. I knew the stuff was pricey, but I never memorised the costs. Melly handles the payments system, so we don’t need to know them. “That’s a lot.”

Frank nods. “Almost two day’s worker earnings. Now, say you’re a VIP, and you wanna flex a little. What’s the most expensive drink here, do you reckon?”

I run through the drinks I’ve attempted to learn in the past few days. Bliss, Empathy, Composure… “I dunno… Serenity?”

Frank raises his eyebrows. “Close, that’s number two. No, number one is…“

He points at another line; ‘Luck: 825 credits.’

“Holy shit…”

“So, why do you think I’m showing you this?”

“I don’t know. We don’t need to know. People just tap their bracelets, right?”

“Yeah, ‘cos Emotiv reckons if workers knew how expensive this shit was, they’d steal it and hawk it on the BM.”

“Do they?” I catch myself and double down. “I mean, not that I’m planning to—”

Frank laughs, “Cool it Kyla, you’re okay. The reason I’m showing you is that I want you to know the truth. That’s a part of working here. I don’t lie to you, and you don’t lie to me. Now, Emotiv owns the franchise, but they don’t own us. Since taking over, I’ve been trying to help folk where I can.”

Oh no. Here it comes.

“The guy that came in the other day, John—Dani asked you to give him water, right?”

I nod. “You knew about that?”

“Of course. I told them to do it.”

“But they were always signing so you wouldn’t hear—”

“How many cameras are in the cafe?”

I scan the room again. “I… I don’t know.”

“You wouldn’t be able to count them. Melly has control of the entire security system. Every nook and cranny is under surveillance. When Dani was giving the Abandoned drinks, I was watching on camera, and making sure the accounting system recorded it as a purchase.”

I’m about to ask how, but Frank holds up a hand. “You don’t need the details. Just know that at this price, Head Office tracks every drop of Emotiv. Now, any questions before I go on?”

Oh, so many. Where to start?

“Do you know John?” I can’t stop the words—the Courage in my stomach forces them out of me against my will. I wince, but Frank doesn’t seem to mind the question.

“I did, once. Didn’t recognise him at first, never saw enough of his face on camera to realise it was him, either. The underbelly hasn’t been kind to him. I can’t say more yet. I’m trying to find out what happened to him first.”

“What did you mean when you said ‘we’re going to deal with this like humans’?” It’s been bothering me the whole time. And now, knowing that Frank is trying to help these people, it makes even less sense. “Don’t you think of the Abandoned as humans?”

Frank frowns. “I wasn’t talking about John.”

It hits me. “The wardens.”

“They’re not good people, Kyla. Maybe they were, once, but the job changes them. They get that gun in their hands and it’s like they turn into animals.”

The image of Dani’s body jerking under the electricity net flashes in my head again. I shake it away. “So you help the Abandoned. How?”

“Water,” he shrugs, “difficult to come by in the underbelly. Not clean, anyway. Sometimes we’ll add something to smooth their day out. We keep it to the worker syrups—blends and lower grade stuff. It’s easier to account for.”

“And you expect me to serve them too?”

“It’s not right for me to expect anything. Real question is—do you want to?”

“I’ll have to think about it.” I prepare myself for the firing. Here it comes…

“That’s very sensible. You shouldn’t rush into this.” Frank leans back in his chair, stretching his neck and grimacing. “It’s not easy, Kyla. But it’s worthwhile. It’s just a small thing, but it makes a difference.”

Come on, Kyla. Do it already, apologise.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, staring at the desk. “I’ve caused so much trouble the past few days.”

Frank shakes his head. “I should have been more up front with you. Truth is, we’ve only been doing this for a few months. You’re the first new hire I took on since we started helping folk like John. I can see where we’ve gone wrong now. It won’t happen again. It’s not all on you.”

“Thank you.” It’s practically a squeak.