Wincing, Leverage swung a leg down from the driver’s side of the car.

 

Her Thera Sentry promptly came to life over the speaker embedded in her left wrist. “Good morning, Agent Six,” came the AI’s pleasant voice. “It’s a great day to be alive and make healthy choices!”

 

Define ‘great’. Leverage frowned and finished climbing out of the vehicle, a few more accurate adjectives coming to mind. But she kept them to herself. The Thera Sentry, she knew, didn't have much of a sense of humor — it tended to regard both sarcasm and colorful language as signs of non-cooperation.

 

Instead, she focused on checking her synaptic network feed for last-minute assignment updates, pausing to confirm her target’s GPS coordinates.

 

From her position on the roof of the parking garage, she had a clear line of sight to the PMM Corporation’s flagship tower. She stood for a minute, looking up at the top floor’s east side. There, she knew, ten yards away and six hundred feet up, her target was starting the day with a round of compliance meetings in conference room #50-1C.

 

Pain shot through her right shoulder as she unloaded an M5 MAAWS and two rounds from the car. With gritted teeth, she carried the recoilless rifle over to the edge of the roof and then went back to retrieve the ammunition. Looking like a good day to favor my left side.

 

The AI spoke again. “Your embedded sensors show a spike in your pulse and respiration rate. Are you in pain right now?”

 

“You could say that.” She removed a hearing protection headset from a jacket pocket, adjusting its settings before putting it on.

 

The Thera Sentry quickly rerouted itself through the headset’s channel. “Let’s talk about this. On a scale of one to ten, please rate the severity of your pain, with one being the lowest and ten being the highest cause for concern.”

 

Leverage paused to take stock of which anatomical parts were currently cooperating before loading a round into the MAAWS. “Five-and-a-half, leaning toward six.”

 

“Thank you for sharing that. At the moment, unfortunately, you’ve reached your maximum allowed dosage of controlled substances.” The AI went silent for a moment, after achieving something like an almost authentically sympathetic tone. “But you can receive another injection of painkillers after this assignment is completed.”

 

“Good to know,” she muttered, settling the weapon on her shoulder. She felt a gentle pulsing sensation as her synaptic network formed a wireless connection with the rifle’s sensors. The tactical software promptly came online, reading her target’s GPS data and calculating the route that would carry the ammunition up and over to its final destination.

 

"Tell me how you’re feeling about this. Do you have any urges to self-harm?"

 

"No."

 

“Honesty is a vital part of open dialogue. Please don’t hold anything back.”

 

She forced herself to take a deep breath before responding. There was no option, she realized, to not answer. Like the Thera Sentry, her employer disliked non-cooperation. “No,” she said, forming the words with more civility than she felt. “I don’t have those urges anymore.”

 

"That’s good to hear. The Firm would prefer that you continue to use healthy coping skills, to avoid the need for another intervention. You’re too valuable an asset to lose.”

 

Thanks. A ribbon of memory floated up to the surface — of her lying post-op in a sterile room, overseen by cameras and having acquired a few more replacement neural and dermal parts. “Yeah, I’d rather avoid it, too.”

 

“It’s important to practice those skills on a daily basis,” continued the AI. “Please take a moment now to recite some of your positive affirmations.”

 

Oh, for crying out loud! Leverage rolled her eyes and checked the weapon’s sight. “I’m a little busy at the moment,” she said, working to keep an even tone. “Could you hold that thought?”

 

The Thera Sentry responded promptly. “Your treatment plan is designed to help you learn healthy ways to cope with chronic pain. Please repeat the following: ‘This is a cooperative endeavor between my body and my mind.’ ”

 

She narrowed her eyes, suppressing the urge to say something more profane. “This is a cooperative endeavor,” she repeated tersely, “between my body and my mind.”

 

“I’m being patient with myself and learning to coexist with the pain.”

 

No joke. After years of living with a degenerative neuromuscular condition, she knew this part by heart. Because of the disease's aggressive nature, both nerve grafts and cerebral pain shunts had failed as a long-term solution. And her employer was picky about the kinds of creative biotech it allowed — it needed her conscious and without brain damage.

 

Fingering the weapon’s trigger, she paused as a thought surfaced. Like the pain, The Firm’s directives had shaped her life for longer than she could remember. She allowed herself, for a moment, to envision being free of the latter.

 

It wasn’t a low-risk proposition, she knew, to try to escape The Firm’s reach. But there was a rumor that it had been done once. She’d heard whispers about an agent named Bandwidth, who allegedly had gotten away and was living a quiet life as an independent corporate risk removal specialist in Ohio. The thought gave her hope.

 

The AI’s voice interrupted her there. “Your response time has slowed. If there’s something on your mind, let’s talk about it.”

 

Leverage kept her tone civil. “It’s nothing. I just had some static on the synaptic feed.”

 

“Therapeutic relationships are built on trust. I can’t help you if you don’t share your thoughts.”

 

“It’s nothing,” she lied.

 

“In that case, let’s get back to your affirmations. Please repeat after me: ‘I’m being patient with myself and learning to coexist with the pain.’ ”

 

She broke into a smile as she pulled the trigger on the MAAWS. Yes, I’m learning.