Free Bright's Light by Susan Juby Page B

in touch with each other. It’s the only way we can contain the threat.”
    All the PS officers seemed to stand a little straighter after this speech. Grassly could hear their hearts begin to beat in unison.
    Worse and worse and worse.
    “The continued productivity of Citizens United Inside the Store is of paramount importance. We will not release the third shift unless it becomes apparent that they are all infected. Instead, we will track down and interview each favour and client who took part in the shift. At the same time, we will aggressively pursue our investigation of who would have means, motive, and opportunity to interfere with the feed. I have printed out a master list, with photos of each favour. You must locate them
in person, using this printed image.
Do not rely on surveillance footage or profile photos from the feed. That data could be compromised. If you see any unusual behaviour in a suspect, you have my explicit permission to release them. Discretion is now your byword. I expect you to use it.”
    With that, the commander began to hand out sheets printed with the photos and most recent statistics of forty-three favours. Grassly joined the lineup, hoping beyond hope that he would be assigned a sheet with Fon’s or Bright’s picture on it. No such luck. He received the sheet for a favour called Blink. He barely glanced at it.
    “I’d like you to work in teams of two, please,” said the commander.
    Grassly looked over and saw another PS officer staring at him. He nodded.
    He had only a minute before the PS staff who’d been given Fon’s and Bright’s names checked on their location and discover that their feed reading wasn’t accurate. Grassly asked his new partner to wait for him.
    “Just had a big nutri,” he said. “I need to visit the relief centre.”
    He walked swiftly down the hall. As soon as the door of the relief centre closed after him, his hand began to work furiously at his temple to program Bright and Fon back onto the grid.

11.00
    Bright’s cart was plain—a mid-credit model—but it still had metallic trim and flashing side panels advertising the House of Gear. It had no top because there was no weather in the Store, and what was the point of being a favour if people couldn’t see you? But Bright didn’t like to draw attention to her cart and its mid-levelness, so she’d chosen the plain brown sand finish, which, everyone knew, should be driven while wearing an extremely small Military Bikini and Matching Rifle look.
    “Oh my job! I forgot that you have a sand cart! I love it!” shrieked Fon. She screamed the exact same words each time she saw Bright’s cart. It was as though the entire world was new to Fon every time she stepped outside the house. Fon’s own cart, a top-of-the-line, first-release glitter model, was usually in cart repair because Fon’s driving was severely impaired by her halo, her hair fangles and her inability to focus on the road.
    While Bright waited in the cart, Fon turned on her heel and headed back toward the house. “Wait,” she called. “I’ll go get my military bikini and rifle!” Fon had on a beadedcurtain dress with flashers throughout that made clicking noises when she walked and that blinked and flashed erratically. The dress had no straps, so she’d taped the halo to her shoulders. It was a look only Fon could have pulled off.
    “You don’t need to change,” Bright said. “You look fine.”
    Fon wrenched her head and shoulders around so she could look at Bright. “Fine?” she said. It wasn’t a word that was often applied to her appearance.
    “I’m not wearing Military either,” Bright pointed out. She was still wearing Parachutist because it went well with the parachute pack.
    “Oh!” said Fon, slowing. “I don’t know what to do. I hate not wearing the right thing in the right cart. You know. It’s a real point of pride with me.”
    Bright wondered if she should feel bad that it wasn’t a point of pride with