Free Burning Midnight by Will McIntosh

exist.
    “Come on,” Dom said. “Let’s go in.”
    Sully eyed the store. The prices changed almost daily, mostly pushing ever higher. It would be useful to know what the biggest player in the business thought a Hot Pink was worth these days. Plus, Dom and Mandy both looked like they wanted to go in. He didn’t want to rain on their fun.
    “Sure. Why not?”
    They hurried across the snow-covered street and headed into Holliday’s.
    The ground floor was packed with holiday shoppers, which wasn’t surprising, since the common spheres—the rarity level ones—were displayed there.
    Most of the space inside Holliday’s was utterly wasted. The center was hollowed out, so each floor from two and up was nothing but a catwalk with elegant railings, the spheres displayed in cases set into the walls. Sully craned his neck to peer up at the tenth floor. No one was up there except a solitary salesperson in Holliday’s signature metallic silver garb, standing motionless, legs apart, arms folded behind her back.
    They headed for the elevator.
    “Floor, please?” a tall, thin man with a crew cut asked as they stepped in.
    “Five,” Sully said.
    “I’m sorry,” the elevator operator said. He remained facing the column of buttons, their glow reflecting off his glasses. “There’s a minimum credit score required for admittance to the upper floors during the holiday season. I’d be happy to take you to floors two through four, or you could sign up for a tour of the upper floors, although there’s a three-month wait right now.”
    Sully exchanged looks with Dom and Mandy. This place got more obnoxious every time Sully visited, although admittedly that wasn’t often.
    “How could you possibly know our credit scores?” Mandy asked.
    “People’s basic financial profiles are publicly available information.”
    Sully couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, but you don’t know who we
are.
”
    The elevator door slid closed, but the elevator didn’t move. Still facing the buttons, the operator turned just his head to look at Sully. “Actually, Mr. Sullivan, we do. All of our stores are equipped with facial recognition software that identifies you as you enter.” He smiled tightly. “If we couldn’t tell our rarity eight customers from those who can’t afford a two, we’d waste a great deal of time, wouldn’t we?” The operator tilted his head, touched his earlobe. Sully spotted a tiny transceiver wedged in his ear.
    He turned to face Sully and his friends for the first time. “I apologize. You’ve been issued a waiver.” He pressed the button for the fifth floor.
    “Who issued the waiver?” Sully asked.
    “Mr. Holliday.” Although his expression hadn’t changed, the operator’s face was flushed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as the door slid open. “Mr. Sullivan. Mr. Cucuzza. Ms. Toko. Enjoy your shopping.”
    Sully stepped out of the elevator, regretting setting foot in the building. He didn’t like that Alex Holliday knew Sully was visiting one of his stores. And why, exactly, would Holliday issue them, of all people, a waiver? Probably for the same reason he’d sent Sully the VIP invitation to the Yonkers store opening—to gloat.
    A saleswoman was waiting, arms behind her back. “Welcome to the fifth floor. My name is Anna, and I’ll be assisting you. What can I show you today?”
    “We’d like to see something in a Hot Pink,” Mandy said.
    Anna bowed her head, smiling ever so slightly to acknowledge Mandy’s joke. “Right this way, Ms. Toko, Mr. Sullivan, Mr. Cucuzza.”
    It was nothing new that salespeople dealing with high-priced items treated customers with more deference than those who shopped at Walmart, but it was bizarre to see that difference so obvious inside one store. The salespeople on the ground floor were polite, but there was no bowing, no
Right this way, Mr. Sullivan.
    As they walked Anna manipulated a handheld device that looked like a slim TV remote. The glass separating them from the