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than what probably awaits him after tracking.  He would have money, and education, and  . . . freedom.  I can’t believe I am being this selfish.  I look at Ms. Sloane.  She does seem to be in love with Jobee.  Maybe it would be a great thing for him.

The Director leans in close to me, so close I can smell his lunch—some sort of meat—on his breath. “Let’s not forget the opportunity that has presented itself to you, as well.”

“What opportunity is that, sir?”  Suddenly I feel very nervous.

The Director touches my arm.  “You,” he breathes, “will be going with Baby4, to the Sloane’s home.  You will be their nanny.”

I want to move my arm away, but I know better.  “I’m not tracked as a Nanny, sir.  I’m just a—”

“I know what you are.” His hand wraps around my upper arm, squeezing.  “You’ll do as you’re told now.  The Sloanes will feed you well and provide a room for you, a private room, all your own.”

“Administration will know the minute I don’t scan in for a shift.”  I wonder how he thinks he can pull this off.  The Sloanes must be offering him a lot, to take this sort of risk.

“Helpers don’t show up all the time, all across the city.”  He looks at me from the corner of his eye.  “Don’t you follow the reports?  Helpers go missing all the time, for many reasons.  Some are simply never found.”  His grip on my arm tightens to the point where I know that tomorrow, there will be purple bruise there.

“Everything good here?”  Mr. Sloane is before us.  Ms. Sloane is right next to him.

“Of course it is, dear, isn’t it?”  She looks pointedly at the Director.

“All is well.”  The Director notices Mr. Sloane frowning at my arm, and loosens his hold.  I want to rub my arm where he hurt me, but I don’t.  I just stand, saying nothing.

“Helper12, would tomorrow be too early for you to have your things ready?”  Mr. Sloane is waiting for me to answer.

“My things?”  I sound like some sort of parrot.  I have a very bad feeling.

“Yes.  We can send a car, just let the Director know your address and we’ll have it there tomorrow, say, early afternoon?”  Mr. Sloane waits for me to answer, but I can’t seem to form any words.

“Her address is on file—I can send it along to your car service.”  The Director smiles at the two of them.

“Don’t bring too much—the room’s furnished, of course, and you’ll be wearing clothing we provide.”  Ms. Sloane wrinkles her nose.  “We don’t want to import any problems.”

“My dear.”  Mr. Sloane looks chagrined.

“Well?”  Ms. Sloane does not seem repentant.  “You know the problems the complexes have with infestations.  I won’t have anything brought into our home.”

The Director cuts in with assuring noises and steers the two of them away from me.  They go, taking Jobee with them.

That’s when I realize they’re taking Jobee.

Chapter Four

The Sloanes walked right out the door with Jobee.  When Helper29 got back with the unnecessary linens, there were two babies in the Ward, not three.  I don’t know what the Director told her; he grabbed my arm again and steered me out to the hall before she got back.

“Be ready tomorrow at two.”  He retrieved his carrycom, peered at the display.  He thumbed in some numbers, oblivious to me, to the fact that I was shaking.  After more staring at the display, he smiled.

“Deposited with no problem.”  He was talking to himself, as though I wasn’t there.  His smile kept getting wider and wider.  When he looked up, he seemed surprised to find me still standing there.

“Well?”  He clicked off the carrycom and pocketed it.  “Get going.  And remember what they said about not bringing any bedbugs along with you.”  He curled his lip in distaste at the thought.  “They’ll have the Driver come to your cube, so don’t hang around your complex attracting attention.  Just wait inside until you hear your buzzer.”

“Sir.”  I think I must have been in shock at that point—I really thought he might listen to me.  “I am designated a Baby Helper.”  I placed special emphasis on my designation, as though he was just confused, and once he understood he would chuckle and send me back into the Ward to update Helper29 for shift change.  “I don’t have Private Nanny training.  I can’t work for the Sloanes.”

The Director frowned.  He drew in a breath, and then let it out slowly through pursed lips, like people do when they’re trying to lower their blood pressure.

“Helper12.”  He spoke slowly, as though he was addressing a child.  “You don’t seem to be listening.  You will be working for the Sloanes, starting tomorrow.  You will never be a Baby Helper again.  I have sold you to them.  Just like I sold that baby.”  He put his face close to mine.  “If you do not do as you are told, I will simply report your status as negligent, instead of missing.”

Negligent.  As in, not present at one’s designated task.  As in, absent without permission.  As in . . . life sentence.

The penalty for negligence is severe.  It really is a life sentence, and that’s a best case scenario.  They execute people for it, sometimes.  And all it would take for the Director to have me chased down and sentenced would be a single report.

I nod at him, unable to say anything intelligent.  And then I turn, and without one backward glance at the place I’ve worked since I left training, I head to my cube.

Chapter Five

I’ve been ready for two hours.  It’s almost time now; I should hear the strident tone of my cube buzzer anytime.

I’m sitting on my cot, dressed in my uniform, as the Director told me to do.  He said I would get different clothes once I arrived at the Sloanes.  I have my extra under garments and my spare pair of shoes in a sack next to me.  I look around while

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