10

The new apartment is better, I suppose. I'm not sure what he's trying to do.

He gave me my notes after the door closed behind us. "No one will read this anymore," he promised, and - I suppose he's learning - didn't bother to check for my reaction.

"Why am I here?" I asked, before he gave up - before he left me alone.

"I told you," said Angilo, "I'm getting you a new job."

"Why?"

He avoided my eyes. "High-profile prisoners. There are rules."

"And I'm high-profile."

"You have no idea."

- at first I didn't believe him. I'm not exactly a war hero, I'm not the type to be famous. I wasn't planning on rallying the Martian prisoners in rebellion. But now, I'm starting to wonder - ever since I got to that prison, I've been so sure of myself. So sure that I'm going to keep fighting. Would removing me from the equation change the situation, in there? I hardly ever associated with the others, but did they watch me?

Or was Angilo still lying? Did he have any reason to lie?

"Are you expecting me to thank you?"

He shook his head. "No. No - I just."

When he didn't continue, I turned away. Ran my fingers over the fabric of the sofa - well-worn. They obviously spared no expense for me.

"Is there surveillance in here?" I asked.

He hesitated, awkwardly, but I already knew the answer. Like they'd give me a place without surveillance.

"Only in the main room," he told me. "The rest is private."

I'm not sure if I believe that either. I think he might, though.

"Is there," he began, then, "Is there anything you need?"

"No," I said, shortly.

"All right." He nodded. "All right."