Catalyst by Lydia Kang Page A

we’re ushered into a sleek multi-compartment magpod. When Micah banishes Caliga to a back area by herself, her shoulders crumple, as if to say, “ So. We’re back to this again .” Cy is separated from me, but he says nothing to reassure me during our ride. Our ride is silent, with Micah watching me thoughtfully the entire time. When we finally exit, we’re inside a dark garage. No wonder Inky loves the windowless mags and buildings. Disorientation is an easy way to keep its citizens powerless.
    Fur Face emerges and Micah carries the sick girl out. She’s already worse than ten minutes ago. Not just peeling and cracking, but literally dried out and crispy.
    “We need water. Fast,” Fur Face pleads.
    “Will do.” Micah nods. Finally, he opens Caliga’s door. Her face is puckered and full of anger.
    “About time.”
    Micah chuckles. This is the Caliga he recognizes. “Nice to have you back, Cal.”
    “Shut up.” Caliga pointedly steps away from me, like I was responsible for her temporary magpod imprisonment. Great. As if we needed more tension in our group.
    Micah leads us inside a plain room with a silver-lined chamber at one end. It feels wrong, like it’s an elaborate, human-sized mousetrap.
    “Each of you must be scanned. You’ll enter the chamber, ditch your belongings in the empty receptacle inside, and put on the clothes provided in the other receptacle.”
    “There better not be any cameras in there,” Caliga says, her surliness barely concealing her worry. When Micah doesn’t answer immediately, she blanches whiter, which I thought was impossible.
    Micah helps the sick girl into the chamber. Several minutes later, the door opens and she steps out wearing new clothes already stained with blood. Her eyes roll up into her head and Fur Face cries out in alarm. Micah catches her mid-faint, and hoists her into his arms.
    “Next,” Micah orders us.
    Fur Face goes next, emerging wearing a wheat-colored cotton sheath dress. Then Cy. When he’s done, he’s got a matching khaki outfit like Micah’s. I search his face for information, but he’s a blank slate. Finally, after Caliga and Blink go, it’s my turn. They both have stunned expressions.
    “What?” I ask, my voice warbling with blossoming panic. Caliga won’t answer, just shakes her head and keeps her eyes shut, as if trying to erase whatever just happened to her.
    “You’d better just get it over with,” Micah says.
    Lovely. The words “get it over with” are never associated with anything remotely pleasant. I step inside the chamber with its tiny, arched ceiling. After the door closes, a small aperture opens on the wall in front of me.
    “Place all your belongings in the space provided,” a calm female voice intones. “This includes clothing, jewelry, holo studs, and any other paraphernalia.”
    “Fine,” I growl. I put my duffel bag in the black space, and it’s immediately sucked away. I pray that Ana’s glass unicorn isn’t shattered. I peel off my dirty clothes and shove them into the void. They stink anyway. The clothing disappears with a whispery whoosh. All I have on now is my necklace and the red bracelet.
    Now I’m stark naked and the light is glaringly bright. I’m doing my best to cover myself with my hands. Where are the new clothes? I look for a drawer, but don’t see one. An apple-green line appears at the ceiling, dropping slowly to scan me and the chamber. When it touches the necklace at my throat, it changes to red. Damn.
    “Foreign material identified. Please place items in the receptacle.”
    “I . . . I can’t get rid of that. See, I kind of need—”
    “Foreign material identified. Please place items in the receptacle.”
    Perspiration leaks out of my pores. I try to breathe deeper to catch up to my accelerating heartbeat. “Look. I have to keep this. I can’t toss it in your receptacle, okay?” I yell at the walls.
    “If you play nice, you’ll get it back.” A very masculine, very