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the security squad march down the hallway toward us. As they approach, the white letters “HR” stitched on the chest of their black military uniforms are clearly visible.
    “Uh-oh,” Carter says under his breath.
    “Who do you think it is this time?” Jeff whispers.
    “You,” Miller jokes, then cackles quietly at his own joke.
    “Shut up,” I bark. The squadmen are coming right toward us.
    The glass conference room doors slide open as they approach, and the leader steps forward. “Dagny Marot?” he asks.
    For the first time since the squadmen appeared, I notice Dagny’s demeanor. Her face pale, she stares down at the screen of the IC clutched in her trembling hands.
    “Dagny Marot?” the squad member asks again, and when she doesn’t respond, he nods to one of the other men. “Scan her cross.”
    The squad member lifts his IC—a slightly larger, more durable version of the one I carry. It beeps.
    “Identity confirmed,” the squad member says. “Dagny Marot, you are hereby repossessed by N-Corp.”
    Dagny is on her feet now, her chair tipping over as she backpedals toward the window.
    “No,” she says. “I’m working on the IC launch. I’m scheduled for a raise. And I’m saving credit. I moved into a smaller apartment. I—I—you need me! Tell them, May!”
    The squadmen grab Dagny. She fights for a moment, then groans pitifully and goes limp as the squadmen put the handcuffs on her and lead her from the room. As they depart, the lead squad member’s speech drones on: “. . . Per your employment contract, you will be incarcerated in a Company work camp until your debt load has been reduced to a satisfactory level. If you should fail to—”
    The doors slip shut behind them. Through the glass, my team and I watch as they drag Dagny away down the hall, leaving a tense silence in their wake. A few curious heads poke out of the cubicles they pass before quickly disappearing again.
    “Dammit,” I murmur. One less employee means one thing: more work for the rest of us. And Dagny was probably the strongest member of my team—although apparently HR’s Profitability Department didn’t think so.
    “I can’t believe they got Dagny. She has to have a higher credit limit than me,” Carter muses nervously.
    “Pretty skirt. I wonder if they’ll let her take it to the work camp,” Kate says.
    “Dagny was good. It’s going to be rough without her,” Miller says, then looks at me. “What do you think, May?”
    Instantly, every set of eyes in the room snaps toward me, the CEO’s daughter. I feel their stares burning into me, but I can find no words.
    “One IC, like they’re fighting over it,” I manage to say finally, tapping the screen in the middle of the table with my finger. “And put them both in metal swimsuits or something—him in a Speedo, her in a bikini. Make the fireworks green to match the color of the IC. Do a couple of different mock-ups and send them to Shaw’s people, see what they think. ”
    The members of my team all squint down at the ICs in their hands for a moment, letting their crosses translate their thoughts into text, which will be saved for them to refer to later.
    “Anything else?” I ask gruffly, and they shake their heads, all of them carefully avoiding eye contact with me. “Good. Thirty minutes for lunch. Go.”
    After everyone gets up and exits, I rise and linger for a moment, pacing the room. There’s an uncomfortable pain in my chest, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what’s causing it. Certainly, it’s not the fact that Dagny was repossessed. Human Resources is constantly evaluating all N-Corp employees. In the event that a person’s debt load (plus interest) outstrips the profit they generate the Company, then they’re designated an “unprofitable.” They get relieved of their possessions and transferred to a work camp. It’s a perfectly natural and reasonable solution. As my father has always pointed out, the greatest crime of all