Scripted by Maya Rock

germanium diode and connect the other end of the diode to the copper foil beneath the stripped telephone cord wires with alligator clips. I hold the receiver to my ear and move an alligator clip to different points on the wire wrapped around the bottle until I hear faint noise. The volume wavers.
    One station is especially loud—oldies, playing the jingly frenetic music from season sixty-eight,
gaudacious.
I touch another loop of wire and hear Nelly and George, popular evening talk show hosts, bantering about next Sunday’s baseball game.
    â€œMy money’s on the Pigeons,” chortles George. He’s from the Arbor, so he
has
to root for them.
    â€œI’m with you, George,” Nelly coos. “It’s not going to be easy for the Ants, going up against Callen Herron.”
    I just can’t escape Callen today. A burst of static makes me move the alligator clip farther down the wire. Static scratches in my ear again, then I hear muffled voices.
    â€œDid you see the show?”
    â€œMy mom said it was scary.” More scratchiness, then an unintelligible string of syllables. I hear something that sounds like
srastle
. Sounds like Reals.
Blissful Days
–obsessed Reals, like Dr. Kanavan. I press my ear harder into the receiver. I think I’ve tapped into one of their walkie-talkie transmissions.
    â€œSandcastle.” I pull out from the garble. Not srastle, sandcastle. Probably having fun on Eden beach. The whole transmission dissolves into static, and after a couple of minutes, I give up.

Chapter 4
    I smear the pink lotion from Media1’s Skin Sequence onto my face and let my skin soak it up while I go over to the bathroom’s porthole window. The snowney has melted, and the flowers in the Herrons’ backyard are all opening, welcoming the morning sun. When Media1 really wants to push the fake weather, they’ll raze the plants, but the garden’s been spared so far. Callen’s mother must be happy about that.
    I wash the lotion off, thinking about the day ahead. Lia should be here soon, for the Diary of Destiny. Afterward I’ll go to Fincher’s. A normal day. With Belle gone. The one thought shifts everything, and next thing I know, I’m looking at my face in the mirror, wondering if Belle did her Skin Sequence yesterday morning.
    She’d thought it was a normal day, and she had been wrong.
    The reflection of my face takes on a greenish tinge, catching light from the Missivor blinking in my room. Clutching my towel around me, I go to check it.
    Product Promotion: Consider the benefits of fruit of all kinds. Oranges, apples, grapes, bananas. Fruit is delicious and healthy. Talk to your friends and family about how much you like fruit.
    Weather: Please refer and react to the weather as you deem appropriate.
    First good news in ages. I turn the Missivor off and walk to my closet, pulling out a lime-green tank top and the jean shorts that I frayed for
liberato.
I’m taking underwear from the dresser drawer when the phone rings. I dash over to my night table and pick it up while trying to maintain a grip on my towel and clothes.
    â€œNettie, I’m having an emergency.” Selwyn’s wispy voice flutters through the receiver. “I saw a roach by the stove, and I’m calling you from the counter where I’ve taken refuge.”
    â€œYou’re where? On the counter?” I tuck the phone between my chin and shoulder. Selwyn’s kitchen isn’t very big, and their counters are always junked up with pans and dishes and cereal boxes and potato chip bags.
    â€œYeah, there’s room next to the toaster and the napkin holder. The second I saw it—well, first I heard it, this
sound,
like someone dropped a bunch of pins—I screamed and jumped up here. I haven’t eaten yet, and I was going to boil an egg, but now I’m too scared to do anything.”
    â€œYou’re a prisoner.” I wiggle into my clothes, then