drill, the tips of her fingers throbbing where she’d pricked herself with a sewing needle. When she looked back up the foreman was no longer idle: his lips moved as he gestured and spoke to his computer screen. Mira stiffened. Two parts rolled past her station unassembled, but she didn’t take her eyes from the office. Finally Jin stood, his conversation complete. He ran a hand over his bald head and began pacing behind the desk.
Soon, Mira thought. She forced herself to return to her work, this time glancing at the front door instead of the foreman’s office. More electroid parts passed her station carelessly assembled, but she paid them no mind. Soon her record as a factory employee wouldn’t matter.
It was not long before a shadow appeared through the cracks in the door. Blinding daylight filled the factory. The other women looked up from their stations, but Mira turned away from hers. She strode to where Angela sat, picking at her fingernails with a tiny bit of metal. “Take my station for a few minutes. I need to use the toilet.”
Angela rolled her eyes as she stood, but Mira was already moving away. She took long strides across the factory floor, moving as fast as she could without raising suspicion. She saw them then, the three men who had entered. Their uniforms were not white like most peacekeepers, but the greasy black shade officers wore. They walked along the wall at a brisk pace, unspeaking, as if eager to be done with their task.
Mira passed the hallway where the cleanliness room were located but continued on. That was not her destination.
She reached Jin’s office before they did. His secretary began a formal greeting, but gave a start when she saw it was Mira. The foreman came out of his office, and he too frowned when he saw Mira.
“Foreman,” Mira said, “I need to speak with you.”
“Now?” he asked. His face and neck were flushed.
“Yes. Please, it’s important. It’s about my daughter.”
The three officers appeared in the doorway. The man in the middle was surprised to see Mira, regarding her with annoyance. For a long moment she feared Jin would scold her in front of the other Melisao, but instead he said, “Wait in my office.” He led the three men back out to the factory floor.
Mira slipped inside the office and swung the door nearly shut behind her, enough to block the view inside. She waited for the foreman and his guests to walk past the window and out of sight, then pressed the button on the desk to tint the glass. It might arouse suspicion, but it was better for the other women to suspect than see her actual crime. Besides, she would be gone before any of them had a chance to complain to the foreman.
The officers always spent five minutes inspecting the factory. More than enough time.
She crossed the office and opened the drawer, the rows of discs clinking from the motion. She grabbed a handful and reached over her shoulder, sliding them down her back into the secret pocket sewn into the shirt between her shoulder blades. Mira counted the handfuls as her shirt grew heavy, not bothering to take an exact amount, until she was sure she had enough.
The drawer shut quietly, but as she turned to leave the secret pocket ripped from the weight. A trickle of credits slid down her back. Some caught in her pants but more fell to the floor with a clatter. She bent down and clutched at her back, stopping more from spilling.
She crouched there, frozen, waiting for the secretary to burst inside and reveal her crime. But there was only silence, and the door remained closed.
Careful not to spill more, Mira slipped one arm inside her shirt and lifted it over her head while clutching the pocket closed with the other. Now bare-chested, she examined the seam. The stitching had come loose at the corner of the pocket, revealing a hole just large enough to let the discs slip out. She tightened the thread with her finger to close the gap, but it wouldn’t stay closed by itself.
She
Soon, Mira thought. She forced herself to return to her work, this time glancing at the front door instead of the foreman’s office. More electroid parts passed her station carelessly assembled, but she paid them no mind. Soon her record as a factory employee wouldn’t matter.
It was not long before a shadow appeared through the cracks in the door. Blinding daylight filled the factory. The other women looked up from their stations, but Mira turned away from hers. She strode to where Angela sat, picking at her fingernails with a tiny bit of metal. “Take my station for a few minutes. I need to use the toilet.”
Angela rolled her eyes as she stood, but Mira was already moving away. She took long strides across the factory floor, moving as fast as she could without raising suspicion. She saw them then, the three men who had entered. Their uniforms were not white like most peacekeepers, but the greasy black shade officers wore. They walked along the wall at a brisk pace, unspeaking, as if eager to be done with their task.
Mira passed the hallway where the cleanliness room were located but continued on. That was not her destination.
She reached Jin’s office before they did. His secretary began a formal greeting, but gave a start when she saw it was Mira. The foreman came out of his office, and he too frowned when he saw Mira.
“Foreman,” Mira said, “I need to speak with you.”
“Now?” he asked. His face and neck were flushed.
“Yes. Please, it’s important. It’s about my daughter.”
The three officers appeared in the doorway. The man in the middle was surprised to see Mira, regarding her with annoyance. For a long moment she feared Jin would scold her in front of the other Melisao, but instead he said, “Wait in my office.” He led the three men back out to the factory floor.
Mira slipped inside the office and swung the door nearly shut behind her, enough to block the view inside. She waited for the foreman and his guests to walk past the window and out of sight, then pressed the button on the desk to tint the glass. It might arouse suspicion, but it was better for the other women to suspect than see her actual crime. Besides, she would be gone before any of them had a chance to complain to the foreman.
The officers always spent five minutes inspecting the factory. More than enough time.
She crossed the office and opened the drawer, the rows of discs clinking from the motion. She grabbed a handful and reached over her shoulder, sliding them down her back into the secret pocket sewn into the shirt between her shoulder blades. Mira counted the handfuls as her shirt grew heavy, not bothering to take an exact amount, until she was sure she had enough.
The drawer shut quietly, but as she turned to leave the secret pocket ripped from the weight. A trickle of credits slid down her back. Some caught in her pants but more fell to the floor with a clatter. She bent down and clutched at her back, stopping more from spilling.
She crouched there, frozen, waiting for the secretary to burst inside and reveal her crime. But there was only silence, and the door remained closed.
Careful not to spill more, Mira slipped one arm inside her shirt and lifted it over her head while clutching the pocket closed with the other. Now bare-chested, she examined the seam. The stitching had come loose at the corner of the pocket, revealing a hole just large enough to let the discs slip out. She tightened the thread with her finger to close the gap, but it wouldn’t stay closed by itself.
She
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