The room had twenty beds and no sheets.
Each bed had a number plate bolted to its foot.
V-01.
V-02.
V-03.
The numbers continued down both sides of the room until they reached V-20 near the clean light.
Only one bed had straps.
V-07.
Caleb saw it.
Sam saw it too and shut the Record against his chest.
"Nope," he said.
The woman in the chair smiled like she had practiced gentleness until it became another tool.
She looked younger than Iris and older than any living face Caleb trusted. Her hair was pinned at the back of her neck. Her hands rested in her lap. A white visitor badge hung from her blouse with no name printed on it.
The room speakers used her voice when she spoke.
"Caleb."
The silver answered before he did.
It wanted the chair.
It wanted the light.
It wanted every numbered bed folded small enough to fit inside a fist.
"Mine," Caleb said.
His hands stayed open.
Sam stepped half a pace ahead of him.
"Review subject is Sefa Amadi."
