The Contestant

iv

   The man took her picture.

“Name?”

She looked at him blankly. “You already know my name. We’ve been through the Booking, right?”

“No, I mean, what do you want to call yourself?” He gestured to her paperwork. “And choose wisely. Depending on how well you do, you could be wearing it for a while. Sometimes, you get away, sometimes you buy it. But it’s what you make of it that counts.”

She nodded at him. “Thank you.” She said. “You’re awfully polite. For a Sagent.”

“Sagent Falkner, Ma’am.”

“You’re mother would be proud.”

“Thank you Ma’am.” He almost saluted her. He was fresh and new. The ones who had caught her had been older, wiser. She knew that she couldn’t outrun them forever. They always had ways to find you. She knew it would come eventually, there was no escaping what you did. Sometimes, it just caught up with you.

            “Take your time.” He said. “I can wait. Remember, you have to make it count.” Sagent Falkner took a small cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with a flame that appeared and then left, in the darkness of the room. “We have forty five minutes until I get you to the next room. Remember, you can’t use any part of your real name. You can’t reveal any details about yourself in letters. But don’t make it stupid, like Bambi or something.” He took a drag and blew out a small puff of blue smoke. “You need to pick a good one, one you can live with if you stick around a little while.”

            There was a brief flare of flame from his cigarette, like an ember in the shadows. He reached out and handed it to her. She took it gratefully and inhaled. The smoke tasted both sweet and woodsy on her tongue. She went to give it back and the Sagent shook his head and held up his hand.

            “Nah, keep it.” He motioned at the paperwork in front of her that was waiting for her signature. “Like I said, take your time.”

            She looked down at the paper and wondered who she wanted to be.