“Then give me a barcode,” Kael said. “Something small. Just enough to buy food without setting off alarms.”

Elara leaned against her printer. “You’re not a ghost. You’re a liability. If the Sector Regulators find you, they’ll dissect you to figure out how you slipped the net.”

Elara let him in. He was young, maybe twenty-five, with rain soaking through a canvas jacket. No visible barcode on his neck (the standard placement). She grabbed her scanner out of habit.

Kael hissed as it bonded.