They seated me beneath a single spotlight in the middle of a black marble floor. The ornate chair faced no table or bed.
Everything beyond the circle of white light was dark. A camera's red pinprick showed on the far wall. Arthur could watch without entering the room.
An older man stepped into the light. His silver hair was combed into place, and expensive cologne reached me before he did.
I recognized the smile from campaign posters. Up close, he held it while his eyes traveled over me. The congressman carried a thick lit cigar and let the ash fall on the polished floor.
"Item 47. Arthur says you're resilient."
He walked around the chair while I kept my hands folded in my lap.
"Resilient means there was a struggle," he said. "I prefer purity. A blank slate."
He caught my chin and t
