peered down a gravel path that was shaded by curving, white-flowered branches. At the end of the path was a bench that leaned on a fat column of brick. Honey sat down on the bench. She spread her arms and legs, taking up all the space. She took the hard, impatient breath of a person kept waiting.
Marlow circled the block, looking for another entrance, and found a gate on Barrow Street. She spotted the brick column. By the time she had flattened herself against the other side of it, out of Honey’s view, Honey was no longer waiting. Marlow could hear her talking to someone. “Just think there’s a lot of upside here,” she was saying. “For both of us.”
There was a pause. Then a man spoke up. “I’m grateful you got in touch with me,” he said. “I want to be—cooperative. But I’m not sure how.”
A shiver shot down Marlow’s neck, her back, her legs. She clapped a hand to her mouth. There, just around the corner from her, was her husband. Ellis.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Honey said. “When Marlow comes back to Constellation, she’ll get pregnant. Then she’ll breastfeed. Maybe do it all again right afterward, if your baby ratings are good.”
“So...” Ellis sounded impatient already.
“So Marlow will be off Hysteryl for the foreseeable future. She’ll need a new sponsor. And I was thinking, if I turn her over to you—” Honey drew in her breath. “Her new sponsor could be me.”
There was a long pause. “You?” Ellis said finally. How strange, Marlow thought as she tried to picture the encounter, that his features were blurred in her mind, impossible to pin down. Whereas Honey’s were crystal clear, down to her scar’s ragged borders. “You’re a privacy advocate,” Ellis said slowly, like he found Honey mind-bendingly stupid. “And you’d like me to hand you a major ad campaign on the Constellation Network, which exists to promote sharing.”
Marlow heard the soft scrape of sneakers on the ground. Honey was on her feet, pitching him, undeterred by his response. “Easy,” she said. “All you need is a story, and half of it’s played out already. Marlow and I meet, after all these years. We make amends. She sees what I do. She has a revelation. She’s moved to consider the merits of privacy.”
Ellis scoffed, but said, with audible curiosity: “Then what?”
“In the end, she doesn’t go private,” Honey said. “She goes back home. She chooses Constellation, but she’s been changed by what I told her. She feels it’s only right her followers—her sixteen-point-three million followers, last I checked—get to make the same choice themselves. So I become her sponsor, and her followers get to hear all about me, all about privacy.” There was a small spray of gravel; Marlow pictured Honey turning to look down on Ellis.
“Can you explain to me,” Ellis snapped, impatient, “what exactly is in this for me? I mean, what do I really need you for? She won’t last out here, with the hunt on. She will come home on her own.”
“I think you underestimate her,” Honey said. “I’ve spent the last few days with Marlow, and guess what? She likes privacy. She was angry that I filmed her writing down information at the Archive. She went completely wild at this off-line party I had last night. I think you’re in danger of losing her permanently.”
“We are not,” Ellis scoffed, and Marlow almost had to laugh. The “we” meant that Ellis had taken Honey’s comment to mean that the network was in danger of losing Marlow. Whether he would lose her, too, seemed to him less pressing a question.
“How’s it going out there, Ellis?” Honey’s voice had grown lower, threatening. “Because here’s what I see. I’ve been watching Antidote’s stock since Marlow ran. Your company is tanking—because of your wife. How’s that playing, at work? What does Liberty think of this whole mess? Let me guess—the merger’s on hold? And Hysteryl prescriptions? I hear they’re dropping already. People see it didn’t fix her crazy after all.” Honey whistled, a low, piercing sound. “A shitshow of Broadway proportions, Ellis. And your name’s on the marquee.”
“The hunt will take care of—” Ellis said.
“The hunt,” Honey cried, “is a failure! Two measly tips, in a city of millions. It’s obvious: I’m the only one who knows where Marlow is. And as that person, may I just say: I don’t think she’s coming home on her own.”
Marlow held her breath. The sun was setting, sinking into the crevice where she