Revive by Tracey Martin

back to a private room, she’s carrying a manila folder. “You can go ahead and get back to class or wherever you need to go,” she says to me.
    â€œI was keeping her company.”
    The nurse blinks at me behind her glasses. “I think she can handle the rest on her own.”
    â€œYeah, okay then.” I wave goodbye to Audrey and return to the waiting room. I’ll have to find out about her ankle later.
    Before I leave, though, I search the room for cameras and find none inside the main office itself. It’s not surprising based on what I already know about RTC’s security, but it’s useful. I quietly open several of the doors on my way out and poke my head inside. Most are either closets or exam rooms, but one is an office. Rows of filing cabinets line the far wall. I’m sure they’re locked, but that’s not a problem.
    Hearing the voices of people entering the building, I close the last door and go back to my dorm. The cabinets will be around later, and so will I.
    Audrey returns later that afternoon, claiming her ankle is fine. All she did was twist it. She ices it then limps around until dinner, but by the time we leave the dining hall, she barely hobbles.
    â€œYou heal fast,” I say as we walk to the dorm.
    â€œIt was nothing. I’ve just reinforced everyone’s opinion of how clumsy I am.”
    Yen laughs. “Yeah, did she ever tell you the story of how she fell out a window?”
    Audrey turns pink. “I was five. Don’t judge me.”
    â€œYou fell out of a window?” I repeat. “From how high?”
    â€œMy second-floor bedroom.” She winces as if reliving it. “But hey, I landed on my parents’ deck and didn’t even break any bones. That’s talent.”
    I try not to look like I’m assessing Audrey’s ankle or her story. “You fell from two stories and didn’t break anything?”
    My roommate is either lucky or a possible mutant. I make another note.
    After Audrey falls asleep, I sneak out of our room and head to the health center. My new plan is a lot slower, a lot more time-consuming, and enormously more tedious than causing another AnChlor incident would be, but no one can possibly be hurt by it. My priorities have shifted, and I feel that shift in my gut. It’s uncomfortable. My first priority is still finding and protecting X, but I won’t knowingly harm or risk another student’s life in the process.
    At two in the morning, I see lights still shining in many dorm rooms, but very few students are wandering around campus. The rain stopped a few hours ago, and the sky is clear. It’s a small point of luck. If it hadn’t, I’d be leaving muddy footprints everywhere.
    Timing my movements to avoid the campus police patrolling just in case, I arrive at the health center unseen. From there, it’s quick work to override the electronic lock, and a few more awkward moves to avoid the hallway cameras. The rest is simple. The building is old, and the interior doors use conventional locks. I’m inside the main office easily.
    I pull my tiny flashlight off my belt and look around. Until this point, I relied on the hazy city glow and security lights to see. But in here, all is complete darkness. No windows. I have exceptionally good dark vision thanks to the extra rod cells in my retinas, but even I need some light.
    The door to the records room is unlocked, and I shut off the flashlight once inside. There’s a window in here, and I need to be careful so security doesn’t see the glow. On the floor, I open the e-sheet where I stuck a copy of my database. The sheet isn’t powerful enough to run the database, but I can make notes. After figuring out who the first person I need to investigate is, I pick open the top drawer—Abraham to Callahan—and grab a file.
    And bang my head against the cabinet. Are they kidding me? It’s all paper. Not e-paper or