“The scanner isn’t working,” the Gofer searched his surroundings for a dry cloth to mop the touchpad scroll.

  In the rain, all surfaces were wet and slippery, and would be so for the monthslong duration of the summer monsoon. He dropped the device, winced in empathy, picked it up, and tried it again, in hopes that it might suddenly start working.

  The subject lolled groggily, propped up in the trunk, against the open hatch. The Mover grasped his arm tightly, as the Gofer scanned his thumb. Each time the Gofer reached for a finger, he jerked his hand away. Fingerprinting fell into chaos. The subject sabotaged progress.

  In an ordinary case, the Mover might have applied a potent force to his dopey smile, as directed by a manual of permissible maneuvers for halting noncompliance. It enabled a specific set of moves, in a specific sequence.

  As it was, none were performed on Cooper. He appeared too out of his wits to beat any sense back into. In his state, he behaved with a liberating impunity he might never experience in his life again.

  “Is there something wrong with the substance? I thought he was supposed to be sleeping,” the Gofer threw up his hands in irritation.

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  “He’s just an annoying case,” the Super brushed it off, unbothered by difficulties.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he selected another device from the gear heap.

  Turning to the subject, he winked an eye and whispered in a style that would have suited the serpent of the sparrow, should it become capable of speech, “Whatever you do, you sweet little angel of light, will be corrected, at a cost to you. We give you a life in this city. We let you live out your lives here. You feed. You sleep. You even mate. Just maybe, you even love. In return, we require you to live the law.”

  Even with his eyes shut, Cooper felt the force of a hand approaching his face dead-on. A pair of paws clasped his head and pried his eyelids open. Momentarily, he glimpsed the Super, wielding an iris scanner.

  He jammed his eyes as tight as he could, but the Super tugged upwards harder. When he clamped one eye, the claws prised the other. He felt a finger jab an eyeball. His vision lit up in sparks.

  Mechanical pressure to the eyeball interface didn’t deform a jiggling jelly. It triggered his jittering retina to see things that weren’t there. In a shock, Cooper understood that his eyeballs were solid and firm. They were unlike he had conceived all his life, his conception flat out wrong.

  Distracted, he slackened just long enough for the scanner to steal a look. The Mover shoved him into the trunk and slammed the lid after him. The Super stared at his biometric output, “We got the wrong guy…” he stated.