“Oh shit. That actually makes sense. But that could still be anyone, right? Why do you think it’s him?”
“Like I said, he’s always showing up and offering me rides.”
“Are you sure that doesn’t mean he likes you?”
Sophie frowned. “Yes, I’m sure. Stay serious.”
“I am serious. You’re very likable.”
She filed that for later. “But here’s why I think it’s him: the other night—God, was it only last night?—last night he drove me to the hospital to see my brother. And this morning, there were all these articles connecting David the ex–BNL spokesmodel and David the fool on the train tracks.”
“The article I showed you said his name, or I wouldn’t have known it was him.”
“Yeah, but nobody else knew his name without seeing his face. In the ads he was ‘David,’ not ‘David Geller-Bradley.’ But that’s not the important part. I don’t think BNL ever knew David had gotten his light turned off. He didn’t do it at one of their facilities, and his light was still on when they fired him.”
“Would they have a way of checking if a Pilot stopped sending information?”
“Huh. I never thought of that, and that’s terrifying, since it would mean they could be monitoring people’s Pilots, and if they can be that invasive, they can do all kinds of things we’ve never talked about, like remotely turn up their input without their knowing, or track their location . . .”
She shook her head, trying to shake off the tangent and the thought that the company could be doing a hundred things more insidious than the ones they’d already assumed. “Anyway, this morning there were all these articles saying it was him on the tracks and getting statements from BNL about why they let him go and speculation about why he might have turned it off, and the dangers of getting it turned off and all this crap, but assuming they aren’t Big Brothering my big brother, the easier answer is I remember I told Dominic last night that David had it turned off, and this morning not only did the papers have that information, but BNL had that information and a spin on it and everything.”
“That’s horrible and it makes sense. Hmm. So what are we going to do?”
Sophie loved Gabe as always for the “we.” “I’m trying to think of something.”
“I mean, we can either kick him out or we can use him, if we can think of a way to use him. Like, maybe, to funnel bad information back to them somehow? Trip them up?”
“Yeah.” Her heart leapt; some part of her had a taste for espionage.
They stopped for a pedestrian signal with a blinking hand. No time to cross. Sophie stared at it. “Hey, Gabe?”
“Uh-huh?”
“I have another thought. There are four permutations, right? No Pilot, no light, like you and me; yes Pilot, yes light, like most people. And theoretically there’s no reason why you can’t have a Pilot without a light, like Dominic.”
“Theoretically, yeah. And your brother had his Pilot turned off, so that’s no Pilot, yes light.”
“Yes, except that one has two branches. People like my brother, who had a Pilot and had it turned off, but are still signaling that they have one, but also—”
Gabe smacked his forehead. “—Also people who are signaling that they have one, but never had one to begin with. No Pilot, yes light. Like people who—”
“—Sell a product they want everyone to use but know better than to use themselves. BNL executives.”
“BNL doctors. Maybe not some who got good Pilots and then went to med school, but some of them, at least.”
“BNL researchers.”
“BNL-owned politicians.”
“All of them. Gabe, we have to find a way to prove it.”
The traffic light had changed and changed and changed back again. Sophie looked around the intersection at the people waiting on corners and in cars, the people walking. Most had the telltale blue lights, but now she knew anyone could be anything and if anyone could be anything, no Pilot yes light, yes Pilot no light, yes yes, no no, then the light didn’t matter anymore, and maybe the discrimination could come to an end.
They started walking again, throwing ideas at each other and shooting them down, until Sophie’s phone rang, surprising them both. She’d turned on the ringer for once, in deference to her brother’s situation. The caller ID said it was Julie. She hesitated, then answered.
“Hey, Soph. David asked if you’d come back to the hospital.”
“Sure! Is everything okay? Were the reporters there?”
“Yeah, you were right, but it turns out that even though he’s dopey, he’s not too dopey to realize he shouldn’t talk to vultures.”
“There were vultures here? Did someone die?” That was David in the background. He followed it with a giggle.
“He says he needs to talk with you. You should get here before his jokes get worse. Charge a ride on my account if you need to.”
“Thanks,” Sophie said with genuine gratitude. Her wallet was feeling the strain.
She turned to Gabe. She hadn’t been looking where they were walking, but they were almost back to the meeting space.
“I’ll hold down the fort,” he said. “Go.”
“No, I—why don’t you come with me? We’re not done planning yet, and that way we don’t have to find each other later to finish.”
He nodded.
• • •
The visitor desk insisted on calling David’s room when they arrived, which turned out to be because a photographer had managed to get in an hour earlier, which the receptionist said in a passive tone, like he hadn’t been the one to let the photographer upstairs.
Both their parents were in the room. Julie had moved a chair over near the door, where she’d set herself up as a formidable sentry. Val had taken the armchair in the corner. David sat awake in bed, still with the not-quite-David relaxation on his face.
“You remember Gabe?” Sophie asked.
“Of course,” said Julie. “Though you haven’t
