30: Ryann
Ryann
Annys’ car was luxurious. Atmos controls wafted cool, floral-scented air over Ryann, and the cushioned seat vibrated in a way that encouraged her to sit back and close her eyes. There was soft fabric on the walls and roof, and the windows were darkened—if they even were windows. Ryann suspected they might be screens playing footage from external sensors.
Annys reached into a compartment at the rear of the driver’s seat and pulled out a bottle. She unscrewed the top and passed it to Ryann. There was a second bottle, already opened, in a well to the right of Annys’ seat.
“Thanks,” Ryann said, sipping the sweet, fragrant drink. She got a tang of citrus, and an aftertaste of strawberry.
Annys took a sip of her own drink, but said nothing. She watched Ryann—no, studied
