Shutdown (Glitch)

manage my part of the mission. I would get my target alone, then flash the device Henk had given us in his eyes, and during the moment he was stunned, slip the key drive off the chain over his neck and replace it with the duplicate. The way the stunner worked, he would only feel a little disoriented, but wouldn’t remember anything from the last few minutes and would most likely just shrug it off as a momentary lapse in concentration.
    I hoped no one would notice if my glass stayed full all night. Apparently Darl was a notorious drinker, preferring the extra mind-altering vintages where the vines had been crossbred with opium. I looked down at my glittering dress and momentarily hated the person I had to be.
    Max-as-Nihem leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You need to drink at least a sip. People are starting to notice you’re not drunk. Now, there’s your target.” He nodded slightly to the right. I peeked up for a moment and saw the rotund, red-faced man he was looking at, Harole Warnost.
    “And here’s the red wine.” He slid the goblet into my hand, smoothly exchanging it with my untouched champagne. “Make sure to douse him good with it. Then follow him to the bathroom and make the switch.”
    I smiled widely, pretending my husband was whispering something sweet in my ear. I barely kept myself from rolling my eyes. I was the one who’d come up with the plan, I didn’t need a reminder of the specifics. All I had to do was follow my target to the bathroom. Max would make me invisible right after I stepped out of the party.
    “And do take a sip,” Max whispered. “Darl would never walk around with a completely full glass. Everyone expects her to be drunk by this point in the night.”
    Max pulled back, and I reluctantly took a small sip of the wine. I half choked with how strong the stuff was, but tried to turn it into a laugh instead.
    “That’s my Darl,” Max said with a loud laugh before moving away, no doubt seeking out his own target. Tonight we’d get the two key drives, and tomorrow we’d infiltrate the programming station while everyone else was at the fight. “Drink up like a good little girl.”
    A couple people standing nearby laughed. I hated them a little more for encouraging Nihem’s patronizing support of his wife’s drinking.
    Everyone’s sparkling clothing seemed to gleam brighter after I’d taken a couple sips. The added brightness only made the whole scene more menacing in its frivolity. Earlier we’d all sat at a long table where course after course of food had been placed in front of us. I’d eaten protein patties and hypoallergenic supplements for my entire life, so I didn’t even know what some of the foods were . Meats of many different kinds, rich creamy soups, pastas in buttery sauces, and vegetables of every color a person could imagine.
    I learned after our brief dinner when we’d arrived last night not to eat as much as everyone else. My stomach wasn’t used to the rich food, not to mention the drinks. All night long, I was in and out of the collapsible med container we’d brought for me to sleep in. Tonight I had only nibbled politely at every dish, leaving the majority of it on the plate. The woman who’d sat beside me had clucked approvingly at my smaller portions, saying that I was right to try to keep my figure with a husband like Nihem.
    As much as it galled me to waste food—I knew the amount of food I’d left uneaten on the plates would have fed a family for a week at the Foundation—I couldn’t afford to lose more sleep. It was exhausting enough to use my telek constantly to keep my mast cells in check so I wouldn’t go into an allergy attack. Central City buildings were all above ground of course. The Uppers had never believed the lies they fed to their drone labor force about the surface of the earth being destroyed by nuclear weapons. It was just another way for them to control us, keeping us underground while they all lived happily soaking up the sunshine on the Surface.
    But this was what I had trained for. The past four months had been spent perfecting my control so that I could come on this mission. There had been a few brief discussions about whether someone else should come on the mission instead of me because of my allergies, but in the end I’d convinced them it had to be me. If something went wrong, my particular Gifts would be needed if there was any hope of getting out of the city alive. But nothing would go wrong, I