David starts to unravel. He shakes his head. Claws at the backs of his hands. Pulls at the yellow, plastic overall that everyone under sixteen has to wear. Janyka, still brain-smogged by what she has just witnessed, reaches for his shoulder, but he swipes her hand away and thumps his head repeatedly against the wall behind him. 'Davey, Davey,' she whispers and reaches into her bag, pushing aside the rotting fruit, the hard biscuits, the scraps of paper and datapad to find a red wax crayon. Still writhing he stares at it, occasionally glancing at his sister's face, searching for intentions. Then, like a hungry animal, he grabs it from her, curls up around it and slowly calms down.
Janyka's tears aren't acidic enough to melt the tender chains that bind the two of them. Eventually, David's body unfurls and he slides towards her opening arms. Minutes pass without a word passing between them. 'Don't call me Davey,' says David finally.
'My name is David.'
'Yes.' Janyka keeps hold of him, takes an apple and rolls it towards where they saw the hole in the Mesh. They both watch mesmerised as it trundles across the angled floor, hesitates among the debris of plaster and regains its momentum to the spot where the two businessmen disappeared. It doesn't get as far as them. It's immediately zapped, as if it hit by a heavenly lightning bolt. 'We have to find another place, David.'
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