Shutdown (Glitch)

reassured myself. I would accomplish the mission and finally bring the Link system crashing to the ground. We would free my younger brother and all the rest of the drones, at least the ones under eighteen that hadn’t yet had the last deadening adult V-chip implanted. It would change the world. It’s what I’d dreamed of since I began to feel emotion for the first time—I wanted everyone else to be able to feel these amazing new things too.
    I clutched my glass tighter and headed toward my target, pasting a wide smile on my face. But before I could get to him, the woman who’d sat beside me at dinner, Checil, came up to me. She was only a few years older than me, but her skin was sallow and the heavy bags under her eyes were only partially concealed by her too-heavy makeup.
    “Are you amped for Fight Night tomorrow?”
    I shrugged, trying to look bored. I glanced quickly over her shoulder. My target was talking with a group of other white-haired men. “It’s really more of Nihem’s thing,” I said. “It’s what he dragged us out here for in the first place. I’d rather be cozy back at home. As it is,” I smiled tightly, looking around, “I’ll need a stiff drink to get through it. Or four. Speaking of, I think I need something stronger than this wine,” I nodded toward the open bar and tried to brush past her.
    But she took my arm in hers and pulled me forward, almost sloshing the wine out of my goblet. I had to stop myself from pulling back from such an intimate touch. Again I was amazed at Max’s ability. No one ever saw through the disguise he’d given me, no matter how close they were.
    “I know exactly what you mean. Have you seen my husband?” She waved at a man with thinning hair and a portly belly. He must have been more than twice her age. He was one of the men in the circle talking to my target, Warnost. He nodded back at Checil, but didn’t move from his spot. He swiped another small cake from a passing drone server’s tray.
    Checil wrinkled her mouth in distaste.
    “I loathe him, but not all our parents are legacy owners in Comm Corp like yours! The rest of us have to do what we can to keep our proper position in society. Even if it means marrying a saggy old man with perpetually greasy fingers.” She steered me around the perimeter of the party.
    I glanced back and swore internally. I needed to extricate myself from this clingy woman, and quick. The party was almost at its end. We’d waited intentionally for the later half of the night to strike so our targets’ disappearances wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary, but if I didn’t act soon, I’d miss the opportunity completely.
    Checil went on, oblivious that I wasn’t responding to her. I learned quickly that she was the kind of person who could keep up a stream of chatter no matter her audience. I suspected she enjoyed the fact that I didn’t speak much, and that she enjoyed even more walking and letting herself be seen with someone of Darl’s position. As she’d said, Darl’s parents were important people.
    “Look, I really have to go—” I tried to interject, but Checil just kept talking.
    “He’s determined to put a baby in me.” Checil went on as if I hadn’t said anything. “Continue the pure line of Uppers and all the bash that gen goes on and on about. Even though he already has three children. At least one of his sons is debauched and delicious. I’ve had him of course,” she laughed again. “If I ever do decide to let a parasite destroy my figure like my darling husband wants, I just might let the son take care of it. Then at least the little monster would look like family.”
    I tried not to let my abhorrence show on my face. This woman would betray her husband without thought, disgrace him, and laugh about it in the same moment. I’d heard other women talking about Checil last night when she wasn’t there—about how her family had no money anymore and were only still Uppers because of the family name. Checil’s marriage to the husband she so casually dismissed was the only reason she was able to still appear in society, wear fancy dresses, eat this fancy food, and have these friends. As we circled the party, some of those so-called friends looked right at her and then turned away and chattered some more, laughing behind their hands.
    “Well, I think I better see where Nihem’s gotten off to—” I glanced back at the circle of men. Several had left the group, but Warnost was still talking to