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“Been looking all night,” Calvin muttered, drinking the contents of the cup. “What’s going on…?”

“There’ve been a rash of attacks throughout Verdant,” Dr. Hall explained. “Apparently there are some Verdant visitors who seem to think they can obtain the idents of Verdant citizens, and avoid having to go home on that freighter. Stupid idea, really, but apparently, desperate situations merit desperate acts…”

“Yes…” Calvin’s head was clearing—presumably thanks to whatever Dr. Hall had given him to drink—and he was remembering other people, at other clinics and hospitals, telling him the same thing. “Yes… of course. I understand.”

“Doctor,” Hall said, “I sincerely hope your wife is all right. However, whatever shape she’s in, you won’t be much help to her if you’re exhausted. Under the circumstances, I’d suggest you go home and wait to hear from her.”

“Can’t do that,” Calvin muttered. “I almost lost her once... when I was too busy to realize…” He pinched his eyes shut, fighting back a sudden onrush of tears. When they opened again, there was a renewed fire in his eyes. “I won’t let that happen again. Wherever she is… I’ll find her.”

“Of course,” Dr. Hall muttered, seemingly torn between trying to help Calvin, and tending to other duties that were obviously pressing on him. “Please, rest here a bit, Doctor. You need the break. Rest assured, we have your wife’s ident data, if she shows up, we’ll contact you.” Dr. Hall stood up, responding to an intern waving him over. To Calvin, he said, “I’ll be around if you need anything.” Then he was gone.

Calvin sat there and rested for a few minutes… even after the stimulant Dr. Hall had given him, he could barely move. But abruptly, he had a vision of his wife, lying somewhere alone and calling out to him… and suddenly, he was up, moving rapidly through the waiting area. After giving one last look to every person in the room, he half-stumbled out of the clinic and towards his next stop.

As he walked, he felt his com buzz in his pocket. He pulled the com up to his face to see the ID on the screen, before he thumbed it on. “Erin? Have you found anything?”

“Not yet,”
Erin said.
“I just came out of the clinic on the far 15, but no one’s seen her.”

“Yeah,” Calvin replied dejectedly. “Honey, maybe you should go on home, you’ve been up and out all night—” even as he said it, he reflected on all the assaults he’d witnessed overnight, and regretted that he hadn’t made her stay home in the first place.

“So have you,”
Erin pointed out defensively.
“Tell you what: I have one other place to check. Then I need to get some sleep, I’m dead on my feet. And I know you are, too.”

Calvin nodded to himself. “Go check your last place, then go home. And be careful, people are being attacked out here! I’ll see you at home.” He jammed the com back in his pocket, and turned to enter a nearby double-door that slid open for him.

~

It was a repeat of the last clinic in some ways, though by no means was the waiting room as large, as comfortable, or as inviting.

But then, it was a security station.

As Calvin trudged through the sea of faces seated at uncomfortable chairs arranged in grids and open-ended boxes, a security officer followed alongside him. He split his attention between looking at the people Calvin examined, and peering over a datapad he carried in front of him.

“As you can see,” the officer told Calvin, “it’s been another bad night around here. A lot of these people were picked up by us, either with no ident fob, or claiming to be someone they’re not… or just plain refusing to tell us who they are. A lot of people are hoping to avoid that ship-ride back to Earth.”

“So I’ve been told,” Calvin commented.

The officer nodded. “Anyway, our Positive-ID teams are working overtime going through these people. See, it’s three guys, and they’re split between calls at every security office. Add to that the assault reports we’re getting, and it’s just been hell trying to keep track of anyone.”

“I understand,” Calvin said.

At that moment, the main doors opened, and a security guard escorted two men into the office, cuffed to each other. The two men argued with each other, and with the officer, talking over each other nonstop: “Get me out of these cuffs! The ident was
mine
, God-dammit!” “It’s mine! That holo doesn’t look anything like you!” “I’m a resident! I have
rights!
” “You have no business arresting me just to check
his
identity!” “Knock that off!
I’m
the resident here!” “Like hell!
You
jumped
me
! Get me away from this lying American!” “American? I was born in
Lyon
, you
cretin
!” “See! I
told
you! He just said he was from Earth!” “And where were you born, buddy?
Neptune
?...”

The shouting match continued on until the pair were sent through a door and into another chamber, bringing the amount of noise in the waiting area back to a conversational level. “Look, Doctor,” the officer said, turning back to Calvin. “The good news is, your wife won’t be trying to hide her identity. If she turns up, we won’t have trouble identifying her… she’ll probably identify herself, right off… and we’ll know to call you.”

“Mmm,” Calvin said, nodding absently.

“I’d suggest you go home, Doctor,” the officer said. “You look exhausted, anyway. Won’t do your wife any good if you collapse too, will ya?”

“I suppose… not…”

“Right,” the officer said, physically steering Calvin for the main doors. “So go get some rest, and don’t worry. The minute your wife turns up, you’ll be called.”

“Yeah…” Calvin allowed himself to be led out of the room, catching one last glance at the women he passed, to make sure none of them were Maria. A few had their heads down in supplication, presumably because their bid to hide themselves from the authorities had failed, and they would be forced to go back to Earth. Calvin made sure he got a good look at them, too.

~

Erin crouched on her haunches and examined the dark circular plot of smothered ashes on the ground before her. A fire had burned there the night before… Erin had spent enough time camping to know the signs. Especially in this particular spot, where she and her parents had camped many times before.

Until her mother had gotten increasingly dissatisfied with camping, anywhere in Verdant. She had begun to complain about everything, from the feel of the dirt, to the texture of the leaves, to the very smell of the forest. And especially, of the stars above, that were not really stars at all, but the streetlights and window reflections from the other side of Verdant’s interior cylinder.

She’d taken to comparing everything in the park—no, everything in Verdant—to Earth. And everything in Verdant always came up wanting. And she and her father had gotten increasingly tired of hearing about it.

So they had cut back on their camping trips. Even the last attempt, aborted at the last minute thanks to the Yellowstone crisis, had been considered by Erin to be somewhat of a blessing, because although she still loved camping, she had not looked forward to listening to her mother’s barely-restrained complaints.

And now, here she was, at the spot they would have come to, staring at a fire from the night before. Nearby were signs of one sleeping bag, and a small amount of provisions.

They had camped out many, many times. The method of smothering, stirring, re-smothering, stamping, stirring and re-smothering the coals was clearly evident to Erin. Her mother did it like that all the time.

Erin finally stood up, scanned around her, and bit her lip in frustration as a tear formed in the corner of her eye. She was honestly not sure what to be more upset about: That her mother would actually run away from her and her father; or that she would choose here, of all places, to run to.

~

Calvin moved so slowly down the sidewalks that people twice his age found themselves steering wide to pass him. This was probably the only reason that no one walked into him from behind, in the moment that he froze unexpectedly in his tracks.

He was so tired that, at first, he wasn’t sure himself what had prompted him to stop, and he had to mentally cast about for a reason. Something someone had said to him about Maria, something that had been rattling about his head for the past hour or more...

Like a slowly-clearing fog, Calvin’s memories began to coalesce. A security officer had spoken to him, yes, about finding Maria. And he didn’t seem to think she would be hard to find... why? What had he said?...

She’ll probably identify herself.

Calvin thought about that.
Of course,
she’d identify herself. She would want people to know who she was... so she could
go home
. She would want to be identifiable, among all the others who were hiding, stealing Idents, trying to pretend they were someone they were not, in order to—

And that was why Calvin had stopped. He
knew
now what had happened to his wife. Slowly, the last of his energy drained out of him, and he sank to his knees in the middle of the sidewalk, his head drooping as if it threatened to roll right off of his shoulders. Others noted his distress, and soon, a crowd had gathered around Calvin, asking if he was all right, offering to help him up. But Calvin couldn’t hear them: His mind had closed down, his senses had turned themselves off, and he knelt there, blind, deaf and mute, not knowing or caring about anything.

After a period of minutes that seemed like days, he remembered his daughter.

Abruptly, he moved, startling the people around him. He started to stand, but had trouble in his weakened state, and a few bystanders helped him to his feet. Murmuring thanks, and shrugging away further offers to help, he started back towards his flat.

He finally arrived home, and almost before he could close the door, Erin was before him, falling into him and wrapping her arms around him. Neither of them had to speak... they both knew they had come to the same conclusion. They clung to each other silently for a few minutes, until Erin started crying outright, sobbing helplessly as Calvin held her to his chest.

At one point, when Erin collected enough strength to speak, she said, “Mommy doesn’t want us anymore.”

“Of course she does,” Calvin told her soothingly, his own tears wetting his daughter’s scalp. “It’s just that there’s something she needs more than us.”

~

In many ways, Verdant was a triumph in social and city engineering. Great care had been taken to create a community where people could thrive, or at least, survive comfortably, and want for little. Many of the social reforms of the twenty-first century had seen to many of their needs: Citizens earned a minimum living stipend, or MLS, allowing them to live a comfortable but basic lifestyle, and giving them the option to work as desired for additional funds and purchasing power. The demands placed upon a closed ecosystem had dictated the rest, levying controls upon immigration and use of resources. This part was a bit harder to control, which was why the population of Verdant (along with all of the satellites) was generally beyond the maximum recommended range of sustainability, and occasionally meant some supplies ran low, or out, depending on demand.

As a result, Verdant, unlike most major cities on the world, did not have squalid, seedy corners and ghettos, filled with homeless and destitute wanderers and ne’er-do-wells. What it did have, however, was an informal market in one out-of-the-way section of floor 25, where uncontrolled trade and barter were often carried out independently of the usual sales and marketing channels. It was a bit much to call it a “black market;” however, numerous transactions were carried out there that were, strictly speaking, illegal, or at the very least, in questionable taste. The prostitution trade had inevitably gravitated to the area, or perhaps was driven into the area by outside influences, as well as other sellers who had a reason to keep a low profile, and a sense of clandestine urgency generally pervaded the market at all times.

Maria Rios walked slowly through the market, browsing through the open-air markets and taking the time to examine many of the exotic fruits and vegetables she saw (much of which was not illegal), or the various knick-knacks in small home-made display cases (some designed to be quickly packed up and stowed in the presence of security). She blended in to the crowds well, dressed plainly as she was, and with only a medium-sized backpack that she carried slung over one arm. But although she looked at items, and occasionally even picked them up to examine them closely, she was paying attention to none of them. Her full attention, in fact, was devoted to listening to the conversations around her. She had been doing that since she arrived at the market, in the early morning after she had left the campground in that pathetic excuse for a park, and other than buying an apple for breakfast, had made a full circuit of the market already.

On her second circuit, about halfway through, she caught wind of a discussion in a nearby kiosk that interested her. Shifting slowly in that direction, she found a shelf on the outside of the kiosk with a few pots on it, allowing her to pretend to browse close enough to hear the conversation on the inside.

“…but it’s been hopeless. Even with the networks set up to match prospectives, there just aren’t any individuals left that want to go. I’ve even seen ads in the net with people offering tens, even hundreds of thousands of dollars, for a transit trade, and can’t find one!”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe there aren’t more people here, I don’t know, with relatives that they want to see, or something. There should be a way to allow those who want to, to stay on Verdant.”

“I know… I just can’t believe it when they say there are too many people here! Does this place seem crowded to you?”

“No, of course not… but then, I grew up in Montana. Have you tried the American compound? Maybe there’s some diplomatic track they can take on your behalf.”

“I’ve already tried that. They say there’s nothing they can do, in fact, they all have to leave, too…”

Maria listened to the conversation patiently, at one point moving to a kiosk further away when she was sure she would learn nothing else from the two people, but keeping the kiosk in sight. Eventually, the conversation ended, and a moment later, the patron walked out of the kiosk. Maria watched her go, and after a few moments, followed her. She took careful note of the woman’s size and features, concluding that they were similar enough to her own, and smiled to herself.