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clients’ wands winked out. The two lucky bidders screamed and jumped in the air and high-fived each other. They fist-bumped, then hip-checked each other in an exuberant little dance. Everyone circled around them, patting them on the back. Since everyone had bid on Fon and Bright, the two winners would be broke for a long time, but no one would think about that until after the party ended.
    Bright’s client was a shambling, round-shouldered manfrom Stuffed Baby Things. Fon’s was a tall, thin woman whose badge indicated she worked in Extrusion. Bright wondered which one was paying more credits. She hoped her client was.
    Bright quickly led her client from the Choosing Room to Big Guns, hoping that Fon wouldn’t follow. As they passed through the crowd, lures—who were new favours just out of the Party Favour Training Centre—clapped and made a big fuss. Lures were in charge of getting the crowd excited, so they would bid more.
    Bright had enjoyed her time as a lure. Less responsibility, less gear to buy. But less prestige, too. Lures didn’t even earn enough credits to go to Mind Alter or Gaming. The only entertainment they could afford was the Natural Experience, which no favour in his or her right mind would actually pay for. Lures earned just enough credits for fourth-release gear and the updates they needed to do their jobs. They often had to go deep into debt even for that.
    After six months, lures graduated to one of the easy rooms, where they helped experienced favours entertain clients. When a lure got promoted to full favour, he or she could party in one of the prime rooms, like the Total Access Room or Big Guns or Scatter Hoses. Unless they were recovering from major maintenance or updates, favours worked excellent rooms until they got too tired. By age eighteen, most started the slide into less prime areas and got fewer bids for fewer credits. By age twenty, the average favour was looking at contract release, or maybe a short time at the House of Pretty Olds.
    Big Guns was one of the most exciting and exclusive rooms in the House of Gear. Favours here danced like the professional party athletes they were. They performed hilarious hand-to-hand combat with clients and demonstrated feats of strength and skill, such as headstands and somersaults and cartwheels, while strobe lights burst in rapid-fire succession out of gun-shaped fixtures. They made their clients look great and feel better. Favours who were good enough to party in Big Guns were watched by a host of personal support staff, who made sure no one interfered with the flow of credits or anyone’s productivity. The number of PS staff was a sure sign of how expensive a room was.
    Bright looked around and saw, with satisfaction, that there were at least eight PS officers watching the party in Big Guns. No one would mess with her. She was a valuable asset—a highly desirable consumable not intended for just any old productive with two credits to rub together!
    Bright danced her guy from corner to corner. She ran playfully across the room, pretending to spray him with bullets from a light gun she’d picked up. When he looked away, she used the tiny can of sticky spray she’d hidden in her tool belt, surreptitiously applying it to her hands and her feet. Then she climbed straight up the wall, like gravity was just a boring rumour.
    The client from Stuffed Baby Things enjoyed her performance, but once or twice she saw his attention wander. The Big Guns scene was chaos, as always, with dancing and people shooting other people with light and spraying ZipFizz and Saucy Sauce into each others’ eyes and generally having a fantastic time.
    Bright danced harder. She was the high-credit favour in the room, so why was her dumpy-butt client looking at the favour in the see-through haz-mat suit? Was Bright’s linesman outfit boring? Fon had said it went perfectly with Bright’s pink helmet, which was meant to be the focal point of the outfit. (She had changed her