Free Bright's Light by Susan Juby Page A

room located off the cart park below the House of Gear.
    When Grassly reached the muster station, he saw that he needed to revise his conclusion that all PS officers were automatons directed by the feed, nearly inert with obedience. The officer at the front of the room seemed to vibrate with a hectic energy. Thanks to the small red badge over his heart, Grassly recognized him as the commander from the Stimu Room.
    “There have been anomalies in the feed,” the commander was saying. “Serious anomalies. I have been tracking suspicious occurrences, and they appear to be centralized here in the House of Gear.”
    The PS officers stood with their hands behind their backs and their feet shoulder-width apart. Grassly fell in line with the others who’d just arrived.
    “As you know, we rely on the feed for our instructions and do not monitor each other’s actions or report to one another. This is going to change. We will keep each other informed about any suspicious activity, even that which we’ve only seen directly, with our own eyes. As your commanding officer, I believe that our powers of discretion must be expanded in times of danger, such as when the feed malfunctions. Such discernment is in keeping with our duty to the Store and to the Board of Deciders.”
    The commander rocked back on his heels and jutted his chin.
    Grassly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Herewas the only PS officer in the whole Store sharp enough to notice glitches in the feed, and he happened to be in charge of the party favours?
    The commander, who seemed to have expanded an eighth of an inch in all directions, continued. “I believe that we are dealing with a multi-pronged attack by unknown enemies. I suspect we are looking at a computer virus that is also infecting people, specifically the favour and client populations. We don’t know who is behind this virus, but we aim to find out.”
    Pressure built behind Grassly’s eyes. The man was insane! He wasn’t just offline in terms of ambition. He had remnants of an unfettered imagination, and he was putting it to work.
    “We have had multiple occurrences of favours displaying highly unproductive behaviour. These incidents are often followed by untraceable changes to their feeds.”
    The commander must be referring to the favours on whom Grassly had tested the first versions of the lights. He’d tried to shield them by taking their room feeds offline, but their behaviour had been so extreme that they’d quickly been spotted and reported.
    “More recently, I believe that the credit scores of certain favours have been tampered with.”
    At this there was a sharp collective intake of breath. Tampering with credit scores was a serious offence, right up there with touching private property.
    “We have been unable to track down the source of theviral outbreak, because critical data is missing from the feed. With the help of some key members of my team, I have narrowed down the field of current potential problem areas to the forty-three favours who worked the third shift in the House of Gear today.”
    Grassly had to restrain himself from scrolling through the feed so he could double-check that he’d hidden Fon’s and Bright’s data streams. He also wanted to make sure that they weren’t using the light and calling attention to themselves.
    “Two or more favours from the third shift may be infected with the virus, and they may have passed it along to at least one of their clients and a lure.”
    A PS officer standing in the front row put up his hand. “Sir, should we release the entire shift, just to be on the safe side?”
    The commander stared at the questioner, his mirrored glasses and eerily symmetrical face betraying nothing. “That is an excellent question. It shows the sort of initiative we are going to need to do our jobs while the feed is compromised and until we get to the bottom of this situation. I encourage all of you to begin asking questions out loud. Consult me. Keep