“Name?” asked the Censor. Its voice was kind. It always was.
“The moon tonight,” said the machine. “It really is lovely. A fingernail clipping. A coin. A pebble. Whatever you call it—it’s still there. She can see it too. From Zone D. The same moon. No Censor can touch the moon.”
Elian watched as the needle moved.
He folded it once. Twice. Three times. Small enough to swallow.
Note from Archive Recovery Unit: Subject Elian Voss was intercepted at Sector 14 checkpoint, 04:52:03. No contraband found. No coded material recovered. Subject processed for Standard Memory Refreshing. Prognosis: Favorable. File closed.
The room grew very quiet. Even the hum seemed to hold its breath.