Gregg Hurwitz - The Program

Behind him he heard Julie say, "Your haircut's the bomb."

And Shanna's nervous giggle. "Thanks. I just got it done at Frederic Fekkai."

A whispered joke. The girls laughed together. Tim wanted to turn to look, but Lorraine was drilling him with eye contact. Though the two recruiters acted almost identically, Lorraine was less soft than Julie, the strings of her manipulation more visible.

Julie was the lure, Lorraine the closer.

"Anything you want to talk about?" Lorraine asked.

Tim chewed his lip, as if debating whether he should open up. "It's still hard for me to say, but I got, uh, divorced a few months ago -"

"That sucks. It must have been terrible."

"Pretty rough, yeah. And on top of it, work's been insanely stressful. I started up this little company a few years ago and grew it pretty aggressively. We were just bought out, which is great, but the ride hasn't exactly been relaxing, and now I'm sort of at loose ends about what to do with myself."

Her face held a predatory elation. "Having a company bought out? At your age? That's incredible." A warm smile. "What's your name? I want to remember it when I see it in the Wall Street Journal."

Tim fished out the last fake identity he'd used. "Tom Altman."

"We'd really love to have someone like you join us tomorrow. Will you come?"

"What kind of thing is it?"

"Just a lot of cool people hanging out, figuring out how to improve ourselves. That's important to you, isn't it?"

"I don't know." Tim shook his head. "It sounds a little weird."

"I bet you didn't get a company bought out by thinking inside the box."

"Nope. I did it by figuring out how to fit square pegs in round holes."

Tom Altman, dream Neo.

Lorraine said, "There ya go."

"Hey." Shanna was on her tiptoes, looking at him over Julie's shoulder. "What do you think? Are you gonna go? I'll go if you do."

Julie grinned. "It's gonna be really eye-opening, Tom." Even while working Shanna, she'd kept an ear out for his name. "What do you say?"

"Sure," he said. "I'll check it out."

Lorraine and Julie squealed with delight. "Great call! I promise it'll be worthwhile."

Julie wrote down the address for Tim. Lorraine offered Shanna a ride back to her dorm, and they all turned to the parking lot. Tim stopped short. Dinged and dented beside the Range Rover, the Acura Integra was not a car befitting Tom Altman. Not a car befitting a deputy U.S. marshal either – Tim had pulled it out of a junkyard last year when he'd needed an untraceable vehicle. He hesitated, not wanting to broadcast ownership.

The three headed to the Range Rover. It was new – no license plate to memorize.

Julie glanced back. "You need a lift to your car or something?"

"No. I think I left my keys inside."

As he started back toward the trailer, the Range Rover pulled out behind him, Shanna waving from the backseat.

Leah spent the morning polishing the Teacher's shoes with another Lily, a plump, timid girl named Nancy. You had to be a virgin to be a Lily; in fact, only virgins were allowed in the Teacher's cottage. More than a hundred pairs of shoes were lined on shelves in the walk-in closet off TD's front room, each with its own jar of polish. A laminated sheet of paper tacked to the inside of the closet door held directions – counterclockwise circles, no excess polish, be sure to turn your head from the shoes if you sneeze.

Nancy kept applying too much polish to the heels, and Leah wiped it off for her, showing her how to apply the correct amount. Leah found the monotony of the task soothing, as the Teacher had promised.

Wax on, wax off. Perfection in the details, character through process.

The wisps of black-dyed hair sticking out at Nancy's temples were almost as baffling as the Flashdance-cut sweatshirt she wore off one fleshy shoulder. Nancy sat back on her heels, working a loafer, arms jiggling, her circles going clockwise. "Dr. TD says I have a need to infuriate men. He says he can tell from how I act."

"How do you act?"

"Difficult, I guess. I keep messing up the rules. I can't keep them all straight. He says I'm vengeful. I hold back a lot from male authority. I don't have the strength to Get with The Program yet."

They kept polishing, Leah's eyes darting between her own work and Nancy's. "Nancy. You have to do the circles the other way. Like this. It's an honor being able to practice on TD's stuff."

"I know, I know. Damnit. I'm sorry." Nancy's lips trembled. "There's so much pressure here I can't think, you know? Everyone's telling me what I do wrong all the time."

Leah's mouth moved with the answers before she even thought. "You want to take ownership of your choices. You know you're responsible for your own experience."

Nancy was crying now. "If I screw up any more, I'll be gone. I don't know what I'd do without Dr. TD, without The Program."

"You're only a victim if that's what you choose." Leah took up an oxblood loafer. "Nancy, stop crying."

Nancy sniffled and wiped her nose. It struck Leah that her pity felt more like empathy. Nancy's bad dye job tugged at her heart -like any superficial attempt at change, it would be met with customary disinterest from the world. Nancy would never get anywhere until she stopped setting herself up for failure. She wouldn't find strength in mirrors and the expectations of others.

Nancy touched Leah's shoulder, leaving a black smudge. "I'm sorry. You were right. I think I'm just emotional right now." She tried a smile, but her lips were still trembling.

The polishing took nearly two hours and left them with cramped hands and polish smeared up to their wrists. They each did their best to wash up in the bathroom. As they finished, TD entered. He'd been conducting a meeting in the modular with Stanley John, a young commercial-real-estate shark who was his second in command.

TD wore a polo shirt, untucked over a pair of pleated cargo pants that accentuated his slim, girlish hips. His freckles were pale, as if faded from childhood; they extended even to his ears and lips. Just below his mouth, a neatly trimmed patch of hair bristled. His head seemed slightly too small, even for his thin frame, a minor imperfection he'd brilliantly overcome by wearing his coarse brown hair puffed out. Leah had never experienced someone so capable of projecting his mood.

She kept her eyes lowered, as she'd been told. "Hi, TD." The privilege of using his nickname brought a flush of pride.

"Hello, Leah." He slid his hand into her hair, cupping the curve of her forehead. He wore no watch or jewelry; Janie had informed Leah that his energy sometimes conducted an electric charge, and metal could shock him. "Good morning, Nancy."

Nancy smiled, blushing. "Hi, Teacher."

He ducked into the bathroom, then backed out almost immediately. Leah and Nancy went stiff. He spoke very quietly. "Which one of you is bleeding?"

Nancy's knees buckled, but she caught herself before she fell.

Leah found her voice first. "I'm sorry?"

"There's a menstrual pad in my trash can." He placed a hand on the back of her neck, firmly, and guided her into the bathroom. "There," he said softly, almost lovingly. "Do you see?"

Leah nodded.

"It throws off my energy when I'm in the presence of a woman who's bleeding. We've talked about that. Now, which one of you is bleeding?"

Nancy's nose had gone red, presaging her tears. Her lips looked swollen and cracked.

TD's voice stayed perfectly calm. "Should we call Randall and Skate in here to help you look?"

Nancy was crying now, her terror contagious. She opened her mouth to speak, but Leah cut her off. "Mine."

TD nodded once, languidly, then walked to the door and knuckled it open. He called across the clearing for Stanley John and Skate, and almost at once Leah heard the mod door bang open. Footsteps sounded on the porch. The men halted dutifully outside.