Marko (Party): Christ, Aria. I asked you talk to her, not kill her.

  I stepped out of the changing booth and found Aria in a staring match with someone new. He was a tall fane with long black hair wearing one of the low-end FlexWeave suits. He had one hand partially raised toward Aria, who was giving him a death glare. Brenda stood behind them, wringing her hands.

  “Lusk!” she said. “This is a customer!”

  “More like a thief,” Lusk said, lip twisting.

  Marko came out of his own booth and spotted the confrontation. He hurried over, dressed in his new suit.

  “Is there a problem?” he said.

  “She’s wearing FlexTech property!” Lusk said. “The hoodie and jeans. I demand she return them.” He took a step toward Aria getting much too close.

  “Get fucked, elf,” Aria said, not backing down an inch. “I walked in here with these clothes and I’m walking out again.”

  Marko cringed and Brenda paled at the slur. Lusk’s eyes narrowed.

  “You can’t talk to me like that!” he said. “I work here!”

  “I think you need better training,” I said, moving forward to back up Aria. “We’re customers. Step back before my friend makes you step back.”

  “I’m sure this is just some kind of misunderstanding,” Marko said. “She’s had that outfit for as long as I’ve known her. I don’t even see it for sale. There’s no way she could have stolen it.”

  “That’s a prototype,” Lusk snarled. “Someone stole it and she has it!”

  “That is an inappropriate tone of voice for the workplace.” a voice said.

  Everyone turned toward the voice, and I saw four people had quietly entered the showroom. Two of them, a human with a beard and a fane with her blonde hair tucked into a bun, were security with COMP bullet-proof vests. The third was a very tall, red-skinned jann, and she was smoking hot. Seriously, I could see little shimmers of heat coming off her bald head. She was wearing a security outfit, but without the vest. The little patch on her uniform breast said Compliance and the nametag under it read Kresho.

  The last person was a petite and pretty blonde woman with modest jewelry, tasteful makeup, and nails painted a light blue that matched her dress. She wore a friendly smile that did not reach her cold, suspicious eyes. I snuck a peek at the badge hanging around her neck and saw her name was Harper Limon, HR department.

  “Ms. Limon!” Lusk said. He pointed at Aria. “Detain her, she’s wearing stolen FlexTech property!”

  Harper just stared at Lusk, smiling, but her eyes got colder.

  “Brenda,” Harper said, not looking away from Lusk. “Did this young lady enter the grounds wearing the jeans and hoodie?”

  “I believe so, ma’am,” Brenda said, swallowing.

  “Lusk,” Harper said. “How stupid would it be to knowingly walk into FlexTech wearing stolen property? To flaunt it in the showroom? To walk past security and engage in a verbal altercation with a company employee? How stupid, Lusk?”

  “Umm,” Lusk said, faltering.

  “Umm, indeed,” Harper said. “You may go, Lusk. Take two days off for reflection. Without pay, naturally.”

  Lusk flushed and stormed away, pointedly banging the door open as he left. Harper watched him go and sighed.

  “I do apologize,” Harper said, returning her attention to us. “Some people never learn their place. Speaking of which, Jamra?”

  “Come with us, please, Mrs. Lawrence,” Jamra said.

  Her voice was surprisingly high and light for her size. She snapped her fingers and the two security guards stepped forward to flank Brenda. The older woman went from looking fearful to furious. She spat on the floor at Harper’s feet. The security guards restrained her and started to lead Brenda from the room.

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  “You can’t tame the ZOO!” Brenda shouted over her shoulder as they marched her out.

  Harper waited until Brenda and the guards were gone before moving closer to inspect Aria’s clothing. Her smile never budged as she looked the woman up and down. She stepped back and politely cleared her throat.

  “I’m Harper Limon. Safety Director for FlexTech. This is my friend and colleague, Jamra Kresho, Chief of Compliance. Lusk was out of line but correct that you are wearing a prototype. May I ask where you acquired it?”

  “I found the clothes in my apartment, and I’ve been wearing them ever since.”

  Harper watched Aria closely as she answered, the faintest frown darkening her smile for just an instant. Marko raised a hand.

  “Can I ask a quick question?” he said. “It’s really going to bother me.”

  “You may,” Harper said.

  “What does HR stand for?”

  “Holdings Retention. What else would it mean?”

  “Of course,” Marko said. “I must have forgotten.”

  Harper looked at Marko, the tiny frown briefly reappearing.

  “It may interest you to know that I can always tell when someone is lying,” Harper said. “It’s advantageous given my position and was considered a net positive when I was hired.”

  She pointed to Aria.

  “You are telling the truth,” Harper said. She turned to Marko. “You are not. Both are intriguing.” She returned her attention to Aria. “I could offer you a reward for returning FlexTech property but, given what I’ve witnessed, I suspect you’d turn me down.”

  “My clothes,” Aria said.

  “As I thought,” Harper said. “Would you at least do me the curtesy of an interview? More information might assist Jamra and I with our investigation.”

  Marko (Party): Do it.

  Aria (Party): Fuck no.

  Marko (Party): We aren’t here to cause trouble, remember? You think the security chief is hanging around for fun? Talk to them, just don’t lie.

  Aria (Party): That’ll go well. “I’m from another world and woke up here wearing your prototype!”

  The silence began to stretch out as Aria and Marko bickered in chat. I put my hand on Aria’s shoulder and gave Harper a smile of my own.

  “We’d be happy to help,” I said. “As long as we can all come.”

  Aria shook my hand off her shoulder and glared at me.

  “That is acceptable,” Harper said, smiling wider as though my friendliness was a challenge. “This way.”

  She waited while Marko and I gathered our belongings, then led us back toward the lobby, Jamra trailing behind. I noticed other employees tried to seem busy or didn’t look in Harper’s direction. She seemed to have a reputation. Harper led us to the elevators and stepped into one that rapidly emptied of other passengers with her arrival. We followed. Inside, I noticed the elevator had a number pad instead of floor numbers. The director punched in a series of numbers faster than I could follow, and the elevator began to ascend. No one spoke, leaving the Muzak version of “The Girl From Ipanema” to fill the silence.

  The elevator rose fast enough that my ears popped. Marko had just started to hum along with the music when the elevator stopped and the doors opened, revealing a gobbek in a pinstripe suit, his black hair in a high-fade ponytail. Harper stiffened when she saw him, and the gobbek smiled, his tusks on full display.

  “Who do we have here, Harper?” he said.

  “It’s a simple matter, Mr. Octar,” Harper said. “I wouldn’t want to burden you.”

  “Nonsense, nonsense,” Octar said. “Missing prototype, eh? It’s no burden. I’ll take care of it.”

  Harper hesitated, clearly not wanting to involve him. Octar took her silence as assent.

  “My office is just down here,” Octar said, stepping aside and waving down the hall. “If you would do me the honor?”

  Aria shrugged and stepped off the elevator, forcing Marko and I to do the same. Octar waved goodbye to Harper and Jamra as the elevator doors began to close.

  “Have a pleasant day, Harper. You as well, Jamra.”

  His pleasant smile vanished as soon as the doors shut. Octar shook his head and motioned for us to follow. I swear I heard him mutter, “Bitch.” We followed him down a hallway that looked similar to the one at the Lux. He turned a corner and led us through a door with a placard that read Harvey Octar, Vice President of Sales. He waved down his assistant, a shiftling presenting as female, as we entered, and walked by her desk to open a second door.

  “Come in, come in,” he said.

  It wasn’t a corner office, but it did have a window looking out high over Anera. The office was minimally decorated, with a couple of paintings and a neatly organized bookcase. Octar took a seat behind a ridiculous mahogany desk and gestured toward seats on the opposite side. I sat and couldn’t help but stare at the massive monitor on his desk. It wasn’t the size of the screen I found curious; it was the thing itself. The monitor looked like one of the old, square monstrosities you’d see on a TV show. Octar reached under his desk for a moment, then rested his hands on top of it, folding them.

  “Now then,” he said. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Uh, what?” I said.

  “It’s pure luck I received a tip that Harper detained a visitor,” Octar said, glowering at Aria. “You’re supposed to be out fomenting a demand for FlexWeave StreetWear. That’s why you have the prototype. You aren’t supposed to be flaunting stolen property at HQ!”

  “Fomenting?” Aria said. “Like beer?”

  Her mouth had the tiniest hint of a smile, and I knew she was messing with the guy. Pushing his buttons.

  “Stop that,” I said to Aria, and she feigned innocence.

  “Ignore her,” Marko said. “We have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Octar looked at us, mouth agape. He blinked repeatedly.

  “You aren’t with ZOO?” he said.

  Marko laughed and shook his head, a look of dawning comprehension on his face.

  “We aren’t. But I think you might be.”