“Are you a student?” Kathy asked, still scrutinizing him. “No, you’re not; you don’t have that pulpy pasty color they have, from living subsurface. Well, that leaves only one other possibility.” “That I’m a criminal,” Jason said. “Trying to change my identity before pols and nats get me.” “Are you?” she said, with no sign of uneasiness. It was a simple, flat question. “No.” He did not amplify, not at that moment. Perhaps later. Kathy said, “Do you think a lot of those nats are robots and not real people? They always have those gas masks on so you can’t really tell.” “I’m content just to
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