Page 74 of The Restoration Program

“Or maybe this girl’s gonna show up at the meeting,” he said. “Better listen up, Zhou. I’d hate for you to get kicked out of the group for not remembering her favorite color.”

Before she could quip back, the overlay flickered off and revealed the interview set. For all her eye-rolling, Nicole sat up straighter. There had really been no need for Burman to send the link. It felt like the whole world already knew to tune in, with all the promos and advertisements clogging everyone’s feeds.

Alina Porter sat on a NüPrint armchair in the middle of a raised circular platform. Her dark brown hair tumbled in smooth, perfect waves down her shoulders. One leg crossed daintily over the other, hands folded as she leaned an elbow on one armrest. She appeared absolutely at ease having two giants sit beside her in their own armchairs on either side of the platform.

“Luna Ellam and Robert Craig, bringing you an exclusive, personal interview with Alina Porter,” the female host addressed the camera in a bright voice. “Alina, thank you for being here.”

The NüPrint smiled. “It’s my pleasure,” she said in her delicate eastern-European accent.

Images of Alina’s modeling career panned over the screen, recapping her legacy. Videos of her on the red carpet for film festivals in daring outfits like transparent tulle gowns and plunging tops made out of chainmail.

“There’s thousands that have been Restored through this groundbreaking Program, but you’re one of the few to speak about your experience openly,” Luna pointed out. “It’s all a bit secretive. Did you ask for this? Did you want to be Restored?”

“I made the choice myself, though I could barely speak after the incident,” Alina explained. “I could only manage a few syllables. I couldn’t move my arms or legs. I had to use an eye-scan for my signature of consent.”

“You were attacked in your own home,” Robert said gravely.

“Yes. My ex-boyfriend broke into my London flat while I was there for a job and… assaulted me. I was lucky to survive, but…” Alina swiped at tears under her perfect lashes, her voice thick. “By the time the medics arrived, the nerve damage was permanent. I was told I would be living life out of a hospital bed for the rest of my life.”

The camera cut away to Luna, who was blinking back tears. Robert offered Alina his pocket square to dry her tears. The dead silence made the broadcast feel eerie.

“But I’m here,” Alina went on. “I have my job back, my family and friends back. The Restoration Program was the best choice I could have made.”

“You look incredible,” Luna said in a hushed tone. “Really incredible.”

Alina flashed those perfect white teeth again. “It is a happy ending. My attacker is in prison and I have never been more free. What was lost has been restored.”

Carlos and Nicole groaned at the familiar line.

“How much did they pay her to say that?” Nicole scoffed.

“Gotta be at least two grand,” Carlos said.

She straightened, looking past the laptop as Ryan’s steps trailed out of the dining room. He whisked off his blue-light glasses and made an enthusiastic beeline for her station on the coffee table.

“My meeting ran over. Did I miss it?”

“Just the beginning,” Nicole said.

He dropped to a seat on the carpet and leaned in.

“Who invited the senior citizen?” Carlos’s voice layed over the broadcast. He gave a wave, and Ryan grinned upon spotting the little video chat window.

“Could you get your narrative right?” Ryan scoffed. “Am I a senior citizen or a toddler?”

Reaching across the coffee table, he grabbed an envelope and shook out a sparkly greeting card that declared “You’re 4!” across the front. Carlos had acted devastated upon finding out that he’d missed Ryan’s birthday during the last meeting, swearing to make it up to him. The birthday card had shown up in the mailbox a few days later. Nicole continued to find excess glitter sprinkled into the carpet on her journeys between staircases.

“Hey,chico, I didn’t want to offend by aiming too high,” Carlos said with a shrug.

While Nicole giggled, Ryan rolled his eyes dramatically. “You know, I can’t understand why everyone’s using my birthday to bully me.”

Her laughter fizzled out. For an awful second, she thought he was hinting at their disastrous birthday sex. Instead, he fumbled around in his hoodie pocket and pulled something out.

“I guess my days of being a smartass are catching up to me.” He held up a palm-sized stress toy that had “Chill Pill” printed across it. “I told my coworker, Cora, to take a chill pillone time, and she hasn’t let me live it down. She stuck a bow on this and handed it to me the Friday before my birthday.”

Carlos snorted. “I may not be a genius like you, but it might be easier for you to live it down if you didn’t carry it around with you.”

Ryan shoved the stress toy back in his pocket. “What, is it bad that I’m waiting for her to be in a bad mood one day so I can hand it back to her?”