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“Zombies, mutants, whatever,” said Haraway.
 
“I don’t read much fiction.”

“Didn’t look like fiction to me,” said Sadie, handing the other woman a harness.
 
It was black, the nylon straps rough against against her shirt as Sadie pulled her own on over her head.

“No,” said Haraway, holding the harness in one hand.
 
“What am I doing with this?”

“Putting it on.”

“I—”

“Don’t tell me,” said Sadie.
 
“You don’t do field work?
 
This was your idea, remember.”

Haraway tossed her a crooked smile.
 
“Something like that.
 
All this?”
 
She lifted a hand to the dead town around them.
 
“It’s a bit new to me.”

“That’s no problem.
 
Put the harness on.”

“What…”
 
Haraway ran a hand through hair that was starting to look like it needed to spend more time in the company salon.
 
“Why aren’t we inside with them?”

“You wanted power.”

“Power can wait until tomorrow,” said Haraway.
 
“We don’t need to start turning power on at midnight.”

Sadie pulled at her harness, tightening it.
 
“You kill anyone today?”

A couple of seconds passed.
 
Then Haraway said, “I shot people.
 
Things.
 
I don’t know if I killed them.”

“Exactly,” said Sadie, then she sighed.
 
“Look.
 
In there?”
 
She jerked a hand over her shoulder at the gap in the wall.
 
“There’s a girl in there who’s just…”
 
She looked at Haraway.

“No,” said Haraway.
 
Her voice was soft.
 
“I get it.
 
More than you know.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Haraway, straightening up.
 
She pulled the harness on, turning up the lamps.
 
The beams of light pushed against the dark, rubble casting fingers of shadow against the walls of buildings.
 
“It’s really quiet, isn’t it?”

“Long may it last.”
 
Sadie pulled a toolbox out of the van, holding it out to Haraway.

“We don’t…”
 
Haraway looked at the box, then took it from Sadie.
 
“Everything here is ruined.
 
It’s broken down, used up.
 
You can’t just kick start a reactor.”

“You’re the scientist,” said Sadie.
 
“I’m here for moral support.”

“Moral support?”

“It’s what I call sticking an axe in anything that tries to eat your face when you’re coming up with the real answer.”

Haraway laughed.
 
“Fair play, Freeman.”

Sadie leaned back against the van, the smile falling from her face.
 
“Seriously, though.
 
I play guitar.
 
I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“You’re not a prisoner, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Haraway.

“Know that,” said Sadie, scuffing a boot across the ground.
 
“You don’t give prisoners weapons.”

“Right, you’re a part of the team.”

Sadie straightened, the movement sudden and sharp.
 
“Don’t you dare,” she said.
 
“Don’t you fucking
dare
.”

Haraway took a couple of steps back.
 
“I don’t—”

Sadie stalked towards the other woman.
 
“You people shoved me in a van.
 
Took me away.
 
Brought me here.
 
I’m not a part of your team.”
 
She spat the last word out, brought her face close to Haraway’s.
 
“I’m not company.
 
I’m never going to
be
company.”

Haraway held a palm up between them, the movement slow.
 
“I…
 
Freeman?
 
I didn’t plan it like this.
 
You weren’t supposed to be here.”

Sadie stared at her.
 
“What do you mean?”

Haraway turned away, shoulders slumped.
 
“It doesn’t matter.
 
Just…
 
I’m sorry.
 
You weren’t supposed to be here.”

Sadie grabbed at the other woman’s shoulder, turning her around.
 
“Hey.
 
Don’t turn away—”

Haraway slapped her hand away, her eyes bright.
 
The lights of the harness were in Sadie’s eyes, and she couldn’t make the other woman’s face out.
 
“Don’t touch me.
 
You have no idea what this has
cost
me.
 
You’re worried about being on an unplanned camping trip?
 
Shit happens.
 
Deal with it.”

Sadie felt the anger inside her, curling a hand into a fist.
 
Steady, Freeman.
 
Listen.
 
Not what she said, but what she meant
.
 
She let her hand relax.
 
“Haraway?”

“What?”
 
The other woman was rigid.
 
She looked like she wanted to stay and run at the same time.

“Haraway?
 
Do me a favor.”

“Oh, you want a favor?
 
From the
company
?”

“Not really,” said Sadie.
 
“Could you turn your lights off?
 
They’re in my eyes.”

The moment stretched between them, then Haraway laughed, a broken fragile sound.
 
She turned the harness off, the lights snapping out.
 
“I’m—”

Sadie held up a hand, the movement almost lost in the darkness.
 
“You really think you can do it?”

“I don’t know,” said Haraway.
 
“It’s been hard to get here.”

“What?” said Sadie.

“I…
 
Wait.
 
What were you asking?”

“I wanted to know if you can get the power back on.”

“Oh.
 
That,” said Haraway.
 
She looked out into the street, quiet for a moment.
 
“I thought you meant…
 
It doesn’t matter.
 
I can get the power back on, sure.”

“How?
 
You said you can’t just kick start a reactor.”

“That’s right,” said Haraway.
 
“We’re going to find the distribution centre.
 
Be a building, lots of cables.”

“Ok.”

“We’re going to hook the reactor in the van up to it.”

“We…
 
What?”
 
Sadie looked at the van.
 
“It’s a van.
 
It’s…
 
It can’t possibly power a town.”

“Why not?” said Haraway.
 
“It’s got a reactor in it.
 
One of
our
reactors.
 
This is what we do, Freeman.
 
The Federate makes clean, limitless energy.”

“Reed put an Apsel reactor in their van?”
 
Sadie frowned, the expression lost in the dark.
 
“I thought you syndicates tried to shop local.”

“When we can,” said Haraway.
 
“Reed bought this van from someone who used our reactors.
 
Sort of a supply-chain thing.”

“You know a lot about this,” said Sadie.

“I make reactors,” said Haraway.
 
“I know where we sell them.”

“Ok,” said Sadie.
 
“How are you going to make a reactor in a van power a city?
 
I didn’t do much science, but they seem different levels of hard.”

“Now that,” said Haraway, “is a trade secret.
 
You leave the science to me.
 
If we can get to the distribution centre, I can make this van give us as much power as we need.”

Julian blew on his coffee then put the plastic lid back on.
 
“I’m sorry, Master,” he said.
 
“I still have some… trouble understanding how this works.”

Prophet stood with his back to Julian, looking out the window of Reed Interactive’s Tower Prime.
 
The clouds stretched grey and ugly in patches over the city below.
 
Julian was standing back —
quiet, respectful, or the pain starts again
— but he could see the hint of lightning in one of the clouds.
 
“You do not need to understand,” said Prophet.
 
“That’s not your function.”

“Of course, Master.”
 
Julian swallowed.
 
“It’s just that—”

“Does pain excite you?
 
I’ve known some like that.”
 
Prophet didn’t move.
 
“They usually need to be discarded.
 
Too hard to shape, like clay that’s been already fired.”

“Master, please,” said Julian.
 
“I — I feel that if I don’t do my best for you, you may hurt me more in the future.”

Prophet turned slowly towards him, the dark skin of his face pulled tight with anger.
 
“If it’s my wish that you feel pain, then you’ll be
hurt
.”

“I—”
 
Julian fell silent.

Prophet’s face stilled, and the man said, “But you have been a useful tool, Julian Oldham.
 
It is a poor craftsman indeed who doesn’t listen to the hum of the tools under his fingers.”

“Master?”

“Speak, Julian Oldham.
 
Speak, and I will listen.”
 
Prophet turned back to the window.
 
“If your words do not please me, then there will be pain.
 
Do you understand?”

“I…
 
I understand, Master.”
 
The man could lift the thoughts from his head, so this was some kind of sick test.
 
Was there a right answer?
 
Julian looked down at his hands, the shake in them something that hadn’t gone away since —

His mind shied away, and he looked back up at Prophet.
 
“Have you heard the word
incentive
, Master?”

“Incentive,” said Prophet.
 
“The taste of this word is familiar, but I do not ken it’s meaning.”

“It is…
 
It is a mechanism of sorts, to influence the way that people make decisions.”
 
Julian was breathing short and shallow, the fear pulling at his thoughts.

“Ah,” said Prophet.
 
“Is this from those imbeciles in Marketing?
 
They have not pleased me.
 
Vacuous, intangible morons.”

“No, Master,” said Julian.
 
“I mean, yes Master, Marketing are morons.
 
I mean that this is not their term.
 
This is…”
 
He struggled with the words.
 
“It is economics.”

“Is this to do with this thing you call money?”

“Yes, Master.”

“I do not need money.”
 
Prophet was still staring down at the city.
 
“Do you see how they scurry and run?
 
All those people, living their lives.
 
They do it wrong, make mistakes, cause harm, disrupt the natural order.
 
I, Julian Oldham, have been sent to return them to their place.
 
Order will be restored.”

“Yes, Master,” said Julian.
 
“It is just that—”

“You contradict me?”
 
Prophet almost turned, then his shoulders relaxed again.
 
“No.
 
I said I would let you say your piece.
 
Say it and be done.”

“The right incentive makes people do a thing, and at the same time believe they wanted to do it.”
 
Julian almost stopped then, his nerve fading away.
 
Sack up.
 
Make the play.
 
He found his voice without thinking about it.
 
“They do what you want, thinking it is their choice.”

“They will do that anyway.”

“Of course,” said Julian.
 
“But they will do it faster with the right incentive.”

“Explain.”

Julian took a half step forward, then stopped himself.
 
“Out there, your… agent—”

“The demon.
 
What of it?”

“As you say.
 
Your demon—”

“It is not mine, any more than my arm is mine.
 
We are the same thing, Julian Oldham.
 
Why is this so hard for you to understand?”

Julian could feel the touch, light and delicate as a feather, as Prophet reached out.
 
The pain would start soon, and then —

“You still want to speak your mind, while you have one,” said Prophet.
 
“Know that my patience grows short.”

“They hide, Master,” said Julian.
 
“Before you came, people learned to hide from the rain.”

“You can’t hide forever.”

“No, but if people didn’t want to hide, how fast would you get what you wanted?”

Prophet stood quiet for a moment.
 
“You think that the right incentive would make them stand in the rain as it poured down, burning at their minds?”

“Not quite, Master,” said Julian.
 
“I was wondering, how flexible is the demon?”

“Flexible?”

“Yes, Master.
 
Let me explain,” said Julian.
 
As he did, he watched Prophet relax, then start to smile.