Chapter 13

As you pry it free, you whisper, “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you first thing, I promise, I’m sorry. Just don’t…”

The unit grumbles, spits the chit out a little farther then tries to pull it back but you’ve got a grip on it now, you’re not letting go. Now yousound like the child, growling, “Gimme it,” under your breath until the machine grudgingly obliges and the chit comes out in your hand. You hold it up in the scant light and examine it closely—it looksokay, no scratches, no dents. It should be fine. Still, maybe you should run it through another unit, just to make sure he’s still there…

He is.

It’s a conviction you feel deep in your heart—he’s waiting for you somewhere, he’s still alive. He’s here, in your hand, and with sacred reverence you place the chit in the pocket of your pants, check it twice as you dress, once more at the door to the room. You still have him.