The System by Gemma Malley

clothes just like them, sauntering down Honore Road, smiling. And underneath was her latest message, only she hadn’t written it. ‘OMG, can you believe some criminal gang hacked my accounts and put out that awful blog in my name? Terrifying. Well if they’re trying to make us scared, or trying to persuade us that Infotec have anything to hide, it won’t work. They won’t stop me that easily! Xxx’
    For a moment, Frankie froze. As she stared, responses started to appear underneath it. ‘Wow, Frankie, that’s so scary. UR amaaazing.’ ‘Didn’t think it was you … forget the idiots, Frankie. We love U!’
    ‘Thanks you guys.’ Another message from ‘Frankie’ popped up on the screen. ‘Better get to my lunch now!’
    ‘Move. Now.’ It was someone behind her, grabbing her hand, pressing something into her palm. A new chip. Communication, thank God. She turned quickly but whoever it was had gone; she could see the men from the van running towards her. But she didn’t move; she waited. They were on a busy road now; they couldn’t do anything, knowing that she would cause a scene.
    ‘You need to come with us,’ one of the men said, approaching her cautiously. ‘Come nicely and everything will be fine.’
    ‘Don’t.’ The message flashed in front of her eyes, jolting her. This new chip was empty – no contacts, no history, nothing. Nothing except for this message. Which, frankly, was pretty unnecessary. She had no intention of going with those men again.
    ‘You mean you’ll shove me back in your van,’ Frankie said, her voice low. She was doing her best to stay calm; they were very visible here. The men couldn’t drag her away here, she told herself. Not without drawing attention. ‘Who the hell is that girl up there pretending to be me?’
    ‘Pretty isn’t she?’ the man said, pointing at the screen. ‘That’s Frankie now, you understand? Not you. You’re no one. But come with us and you’ll live. Otherwise …’
    ‘Otherwise?’ She stared at him icily. ‘Otherwise, what?’
    Frankie didn’t wait for an answer. She turned and she ran, along the road, into an alleyway, pounding down the pavement. She barely recognised the streets; felt naked with her chip utterly empty, no contacts, no messages, nothing.
    ‘Turn left.’ A message appeared, but Frankie ignored it. She needed to get back to her apartment. Needed to work out what was going on, what she should do. She felt strange, unbalanced, like the ground was moving underneath her feet as she walked on autopilot, her pace picking up as she got nearer to home until she was running; never had she been so desperate to get home, to close her door, to take a shower, take a bath, clean this day away, allow her space to think. And finally she was there, outside her building. She couldn’t believe what had happened; it was like a bad dream, like some strange aberration that made no sense. And yet it had happened. The police van had gone, but she still had the blanket wrapped around her to prove it. She dropped it, kicked it away. Then she lifted her hand to the door fob.
    The door didn’t open.
    She tried again, but the door stayed resolutely closed. She tried banging, but it was no good. Of course it was no good. She wouldn’t get through the door without her chip.
    ‘You know you’re not getting in there. Stop wasting time, you have to hide.’
    Frankie took a deep breath, then took a few steps back. And then, without thinking, she ran at the door, pounding it with her fists, shouting at it to open. People were staring at her but she didn’t care; it was her apartment. She needed to get in.
    ‘This is where I live,’ she shouted, to no one in particular. ‘This is where I live.’
    A man stopped, looked at her kindly. ‘Maybe your chip is damaged,’ he said. ‘Call the Infotec helpdesk. They’re very friendly.’
    Frankie stared at him, then she started to laugh. ‘Friendly? You have no idea.’
    She turned back to the door,