"Locke! Are you paying attention?" Kara pulls on my hand. "We're on the run now. We can't afford for you to go off to la-la land."
I had lapsed. "I was only--" There is no point in explaining. She knows. Kara can still finish my sentences. I look at her. "Go ahead."
"Dot says the first thing we're going to have to do is get registered IDs. Transgrids and all public buildings require them before entering."
"Don't you already have ID for the transgrids, Dot?" I ask.
"Passengers require them too," Dot answers. "It gets ugly if you hook into a transgrid without proper ID."
Dr. Gatsbro had told us about transgrids--roadways in most large cities and for major transportation routes. Vehicles enter a ramp and the car's navigation is taken over by the system. They proceed at faster but regulated speeds and are routed to their destinations. The driver actually does very little driving. As with most of Dr. Gatsbro's descriptions, it sounded ideal. There was no mention of IDs or ugly consequences without them.
"How ugly?" I ask.
"The car is automatically rerouted to the Office of Security Violations. That is, unless they assess you to be an immediate threat. In that case, you are incapacitated." She makes a brief buzzing sound like a jolt of electricity. "But most survive it," she adds.
"Lovely," Kara says. "Some good news at last."
"But," Dot says, and then pauses, waiting until she has eye contact with both of us in her mirror, "I have ways."
"Tell us," I say.
"Star Drivers have special access to historical roads for the purpose of tourism, and a few of those roads will get us far enough into the city that you can reach--" She glances over her shoulder to look directly at me. "There are certain individuals who can provide IDs."
I nod. Some things transcend time, and the black market is obviously one of those things.
"We don't have any money, Dot. But--"
"Money? These individuals don't trade in money. They trade in Favor."
"You mean we'll have to return the favor?"
Dot glances briefly in the mirror at me and turns her head slightly to the side, like I am speaking a foreign language. "Something like that," she answers.
"Why are you helping us, Dot?" Kara asks suspiciously. "Is that what you want? A favor?"
Dot shakes her head.
"But helping us will get you into trouble," I say. "You said something about being released. Will you lose your job?"
Dot looks at me but doesn't answer right away. "Just where are you from?" she finally asks.
Kara squeezes my thigh. "We're from Boston," she says. "We've just been ... away for a while."
Dot raises a brow. "I see. Yes, I will be released, but since this is my first offense, it will likely be temporary. Maybe only a month of inactive duty and retraining. It is worth it, I think. Star Drivers talk among themselves. We hear stories about Escape. We dream about it and what it would be like. Even though you are a different kind of Escapee, this gives me a glimpse. It will be a story to hold on to and one that I can share with other Star Drivers." She looks sharply at us through the mirror. "That's how we amuse ourselves. We imagine what Escape is like. Even Bots can imagine and have dreams. Seeing the world from a vehicle is limiting."
I try to process her last words. Even Bots--
"My God, she's a--" Kara says.
I jump forward, looking over the seat. Dot has no legs. She has no human shape below her waist. I stare, feeling light-headed. She appears to be plugged in to a console.
"You don't have--"
"A whole body? It is considered an unnecessary expense. The Council on National Aesthetics doesn't require them for my line of work. Easy for them to say."
I fall back in my seat. Neither Kara nor I speak. We have only heard of Bots, never seen one. I expected something different. Something more like a machine. Why didn't Dr. Gatsbro ever show us one? I look at my hand resting on the seat, only a centimeter from Kara's. Both perfect, both flesh and blood, both created in a lab probably not much different from the one Dot was manufactured in.
"You're disturbed. You didn't know I was a Bot?"