Our first stop is the riverfront. The abatement walls are indeed ugly. I almost want to suggest graffiti as a way to improve them, but I doubt that spray cans exist anymore and don’t want to even try to explain what that kind of art is. The walls were placed at the high-water mark before water levels began to recede slightly due to decades of global regulations. I look beyond these walls to the ones below that hem in the river now. Still large and still ugly, I wonder if they’ll ever be able to get rid of those too. Cece performs measurements and density tests to help analyze the cost of removal. Ian shows only cursory interest in the walls, which I have to admit are crumbling and being taken back by the earth anyway. Based on my estimates, they’ll be gone in another few hundred years, though unlike me, most people don’t have that kind of time to burn.

I try to feign interest. Notes are talked onto virtual tablets and added to measurements and videos and we all climb back into the car.

Next we stop at an experimental dance academy, then an improv studio, and finally, due to Shane’s continuing insistence, the waterfront public tour kiosks. We get out of the car and walk past three, finally stopping at the wharf. No one speaks. Vina shields her eyes from the sun, looking at gulls overhead. Cece leans over the rail, looking at the water lapping below. Raine sits on a bench in the shade, her bored mask firmly in place. Disinterest is worn like a badge by everyone. Shane walks over and sits close to Raine, draping his arm behind her on the bench. I suddenly feel like Hap, wanting to cross over to him in three steps and lift him by the throat. He shoots me a smile, almost a dare, like he can read my mind.

Don’t touch her, pig.

“Well, I think that we have a winner,” he says, breaking the silence. He goes on to proclaim his suggestion as the clear project choice and estimates that the ratio of tourists to Tour Bots is a hundred to one.

“How’d you come up with that number?” Ian asks.

“I eyed it.”

“Who cares anyway?” Cece asks.

“The Collective will, for one. It would benefit the most Citizens. We want this thing approved don’t we?”

“We aren’t finished yet,” I say. “We still have another stop.”

“No we don’t,” Shane says. “The Non-pact suggestion was stricken as an option.”

Ian steps forward. “By who?”

“If you must know, the Secretary himself. He said it was an inappropriate proposal. And of course, he’s right.”

Raine swallows. Her expression has gone from bored to alert.

Ian glares at Shane. “And just how did he find out about it?”

Shane shrugs.

I take a deep breath. And then another, my eyes drilling into Shane. Don’t let the enemy push you before you’re ready.

I’m ready.

“So, that’s not stopping us, right?” I say, pasting on a cheerful smile. “All projects don’t have to be on Collective time. I’m still in.”

There’s a brief moment of shocked silence before Vina chimes in, “Me too!”

“But—”

“You’re right,” Ian says. “We can do it on our own. I’m in.”

“Wait a—”

“Me three!” Cece says.

Shane is still sputtering half-finished objections, but Raine has remained noticeably silent.

“What about you, Raine? In or out?” I ask.

She looks down at her lap and shakes her head and finally whispers, “I can’t.”

I feel a brief flash of anger. She’s always so strong. Why can’t she be strong for this? But watching her face slowly harden and disconnect brings a wave of guilt too. She has moved into her default survival mode. I know I pushed her further than I should have. She has more to lose than any of us. We don’t have to live with the Secretary, and thanks to me, she already pushed her limits with him a few nights ago. It wasn’t fair for me to push her again.

“No problem,” I say. “We’ll drop you and Shane off before we go to the shelter.”

“Shelter?” Ian says. “There are no shelters for Non-pacts. They aren’t allowed. We need to go straight to the source—their neighborhoods.”

I try not to act overly surprised, but my mind is racing. Flea-infested dumps. That’s what Shane called them. A shelter was never mentioned. Why had I assumed something like a soup kitchen or a local Y for the indigent? All Non-pacts are indigent and they’re meant to stay that way—indigent and invisible, kept far from the respectable citizens in their own run-down neighborhoods. Neighborhoods like Xavier’s where they know me, and probably the closest Non-pact neighborhood to where we are right now. I’ve made a strategic error.

“Let’s go,” Vina says. She turns to Raine. “Can’t you two take the PAT home so we don’t have to drop you off?”

Raine glances at me, a hint of shame and hurt on her face, but she quickly sweeps it away and with her trademark indifference looks back at Vina. “Of course. See you all tomorrow.” She turns and walks away without any more good-byes. Shane follows after her.

Vina grabs my arm. “Come on, Locke.”

But I keep my eyes on Raine, hoping and wishing as she begins to get lost in the crowds. Vina pulls on my arm again and I’m just about to turn away when I see Raine stop. She simply stops, looking down at the sidewalk. Shane is babbling something to her, but she shakes her head like she’s blocking him out. And then she turns. She looks in our direction and begins walking back, and stops in front of me. Her pupils are pinpoints, panic filling them, and her breaths are uneven, but still her chin juts out like she’s in control. “I’ll go along. This once.”