22
So I’m still dressed as a cowgirl. Except I did take a minute to change out of the Western boots, back into Halli’s comfortable hiking ones. I feel like I need the support right now. The more of Halli I bring with me, the better.
The conference room is another holographic nightmare. Instead of normal, solid walls, the whole place is an ever-moving, constantly-changing sequence of different outdoor locations, all captioned with the company logo: OPS Chile . . . OPS England . . . OPS Finland, France, Iceland, India . . .
As my eyes adjust to the light, I see that all conversation has stopped, and about twenty or more people are all staring right at me. Then some of them smile. And some of them don’t.
“Here she is!” Halli’s mother calls out. “Our daughter.”
In what might be the friend
