3.00 A.M. Monday, may 10 .2021 Most of the transgenics were deep asleep, catching the peace the waking world refused them, when the call came in from a guard post near the main gate. But Max was awake—waiting. She keyed the radio. "Say again?" The guard said, "Got a guy approaching the main gate. Black dude with two white uniforms tagging along." Looking up at the security camera, she saw Detective Ramon Clemente and two other officers at the gate. "Tell him I'll be right down," she told the guard. "What's up?" Dix chimed, unrumpling his clothes as he came up the two stairs to his work area. He apparently slept in that half-goggle "monocle" of his; Whatever, Max thought. "Light sleeper?" she asked him. "Always. Gotta be, if you wanna make a habit of waking up in the morning.... We got visitors?" "Time to start talking," Max said with a nod. "You got a discreet transmitter?" The mashed-potato-headed transgenic looked injured. "Of course I do." She grinned. "That's what I like about you, Dix—always ready." _ _ "And willing, and able." He pinned a tiny microphone to the inside of her black leather vest.
