Jess’s composure was evaporating with each insufferable word from the counselor's mouth.

 

“Jess, your deviation score is awful. You are twenty percent off your life goals, twenty!” she emphasized. She folded her hands on her desk and stared self-importantly.

 

Jess dug her nails into her palms, “I should never have taken that job.”

 

The desk between them held several items in perfect order as if confined to cell blocks. Clear candles perched on the corners like watchtowers and a name placard identified the warden: Sandy.

 

“Deep breath,” she said, taking an inhale herself. “This job matches your desired future, remember? If you want to continue here at Providence, you must hit your goals. Obedience makes winners,” Sandy gestured behind her to several “motivational” posters of smiling graduates.

 

Jess clenched her jaw, “I want this implant out of my head.”

 

Sandy pressed a button on her desk. Jess blinked and a red flashing twenty appeared in the corner of her vision. “That implant is your guide to success, Jess. Isn’t that what you want? Perhaps this reminder will get you back on track.”

 

Jess took a ragged breath and an obtrusive calm washed over her. “Sandy, please. I don’t want this anymore.”

 

“Jon, would you help us?” A side door opened revealing a hidden hallway and a gray-suited man.

 

“This way, ma’am.”

 

”You want to leave? This is your exit,” Sandy said.

 

Wordlessly, Jess followed the man down the hallway. Her heart sank as Sandy’s silhouette closed the door, casting them into darkness. What am I doing?

 

She bolted toward the door, pounding against it. “HELP!”

 

“None of that now,” the man said as he seized Jess around the arms and dragged her down the corridor. Screaming and sprawling, she was thrown into the back seat of a hover craft which raced off as soon as her door slammed closed.

 

* * *

 

From the alley shadows, Ansel waited. He glanced at the aerial traffic above the Providence office where two speeders settled on the roof. A policeman stepped out.

 

“C’mon. Hurry up,” Ansel whispered. He looked down at the craft floating in the alley, then back up. “Write the ticket already.”

 

The officer plodded back to his cruiser and lifted out of sight.

 

Ansel bolted down the alley.

 

He jammed a device into the door’s lock which clicked and he slid inside. The craft lurched as a woman tumbled into the back seat screaming.

 

Ansel pulled the thruster to max and streaked out of the alley leaving the would-be kidnapper behind.

 

* * *

 

Jess touched her scalp. Her hand came back slick. She began hyperventilating.

 

“Are you okay?” the driver asked. She took a steading breath and again felt an uninvited stillness. “Wait!” he said and snuffed out the clear candle on the dashboard. He opened a small tin and the air turned sweet, cutting through her mental fog. “Breathe now.”

 

“Please, just let me go!”

 

“I’m not one of them. I’m here to get you out, Jess.”

 

“If you’re not with Providence, then how do you know my name?”

 

The glider banked onto a street she recognized and jerked to a stop in front of her apartment. “Pack light and meet me at Carbon square in one hour,” he said. “They’ll be looking for you, so you aren’t safe here. Take this.” He pressed the circular tin into her hand. “One hour!” he shouted out the window as she exited.

 

He sped away leaving her frozen on the curb. The tin read: “The cure for therapy,” and smelled of dirt and roses. The red twenty in her vision was now a staticky blur and her mind was sharp in a way she forgot it could be. Her choice was clear.

 

She dashed upstairs, grabbed the essentials, and headed to the square.

 

* * *

 

Jess stood in front of the massive columns leading to Carbon Square. Several gliders were parked on the roof where a slender man motioned for her to join him.

 

“Please, sit,” Ansel said as she emerged at the top of the staircase. “We have a lot to discuss, and not much time.”

 

“Who are you?” Jess asked.

 

“Yes, that’s a good place to start. My name is Ansel.”

 

“And you’re like a vigilante or…?”

 

“Journalist, actually,” he replied. “Listen. I know what they’re doing to you and I want to stop it. Since you’re here, I’m assuming that’s what you want, too?”

 

”Yes. Whatever it takes.”

 

Ansel leaned in. “You are their slave, Jess. Providence’s program promises to motivate you towards success. They fail to mention who defines that success. Have you started forgetting whole chunks of your day, yet?”

 

”My brain is foggy, but, no, not that bad.”

 

“Good! You’re not as deep as I feared. Most people at this stage have almost complete amnesia. Especially about work. Providence pushes people into low paying jobs no one wants. That earns them a kick back from the employer. But that’s only the beginning. The deepest ones in the program are trafficked for much worse purposes.”

 

Jess fell back in her chair clutching the small tin. “I thought something was wrong, but every time I try to confront them I…”

 

”Lose your train of thought?” Ansel said. “It’s those candles. The aroma strengthens the implant’s influence on your brain and drowns out your desire to fight. That tin is the antidote.”

 

“Will it shut off the implant?”

 

Ansel shook his head solemnly. “Only surgery can do that and they’ve got all the hospitals on their payroll. But I have a sponsor with connections to The Interstellar Observer who has agreed to publish this story. Your story. That’s how we end them.”

 

“Sounds dangerous.”

 

“It is.”

 

Jess heard a familiar voice on a screen below: “Life is a game. Let’s win together. Providence.” She looked to see a young man writing down the phone number from the advertisement and realized why she recognized the voice. It was Sandy’s.

 

“What do you say?” Ansel asked.

 

Purpose ignited within her.

 

“I’m in.”