6.
Milly brightens. “I heard you were the best.”
“I was about to shut down,” Brazil says.
She opens her big, gray eyes a bit more, neck bending towards the light.
“But I guess, uh, come in.” He leans his shotgun into the closet, locking his door behind them.
Sitting with Brazil at his rack of whirring computers, Milly hands over the photo chip. “Replace the origin metadata with St. George, Utah, and move the timestamp back three days. The camera make and model remain untouched. But here’s a new serial number. No one must know anything was changed. That’s where you come in.”
“Easy!” He grins. “I like a customer who says exactly what they want. You must already know there’s no point in switching the camera model because of how the data gets written.”
Milly shrugs.
She couldn’t know that. Could she? But she just let him believe she did.
He loads her photos. “Seven?”
“Choose one.”
“OK?” Brazil slides layers of programming code across panoramic screens. He sniffs. “Perfume?”
One corner of her mouth curls upward. “Smells good?”
“Smells old.”
“Good. How old?” Milly brushes dust off her slacks. “Antique?”
“Dunno — I’m twenty.”
Her phone lights up:
— ALT ID ACTIVITY
Milly stands. “Excuse me.” She unlocks her phone with her thumb, enters a passcode, opens the port, and switches the chip. Her alt ID boots up. It’s a text:
— I know u hate birthdays milly but today’s not really it, so can I wish you a happy one? 🤪 whatcha doing? ❤️ sis
— Right now, I’m working on getting him off my back, and yours, finally.
— he left. its ok.
— No, it isn’t.
— oh god, milly what did you do?
— You’ll know it when you see it, and what it’s not. But he won’t. And it should lead him right where he belongs.
— careful
— I have to go.
The conversation vanishes from Milly’s phone, deleted by the secure app.
Brazil looks over. “Everything OK?”
“It’s nothing.” She switches her ID chip back.
“All done.” He points. “Cute kid. Single mom?”
“Divorced last year.”
True, but not the answer to his question.
Brazil nods, showing a price on-screen.
“Any way you’d take less? I’m kind of hurting right now.”
“Well, you’re not getting a discount. But I’ll show you an exit through the tunnels. Might be safer. I’m gonna lay low myself.”
“Fine …”
He stares curiously at her.
“Never list your personal property on a public network,” Milly says.
Brazil laughs. “No shit. But can you pay? Cash only.”
She exhales, fondling her bare earlobes.
Maybe it’s luck she wore those earrings, after all …
Milly offers the remaining cash from her pocket.
“Paid in full.” He shifts in his chair, erasing her photos from his computer. “Well, now you know where to find Brazil.” He hands over the photo chip. “And you are?”
Milly taps seven times—“M I L Y U N Z”—with her freshly polished fingernail upon the polymer rim of his empty computer screen. “Like — millions. Find me online that way. I need to go get changed.” She smiles. “I’m on the guest list.”
“What does that mean, guest list?” Brazil ushers her out.
Milly follows. “It’s a nightclub thing, a free ticket.”
Near the tunnel exit, Brazil stops. “Wait, you’re going out? You just got assaulted! What about your kid?”
“I shouldn’t have”—her hand slides into her jacket—“mentioned that.”
Holding her knife?
Brazil clutches his head. “I’m confused.”
Milly sighs. “You’ve been useful, thanks, but … it’s not my kid.” She pivots to face him.
“Whose?”—he squints—“Why?”
She turns away. “My ex.” Milly darts off, ascending stairs to the Southbound platform.
Looking up, his face twitches. “How’s that make sense?”
Milly pauses at the top step, looking down. “It will!” Boarding the waiting train, she plops into a window seat. Clipping her bracelet on, Milly’s eyes glaze over. The sunset blazes. Her face goes blank.
We’ll figure her out — together — to the extent that’s allowed. Many stories to tell, scant resources to share them …