Haley frowned at the mirror. Her nose was the problem. There was no makeup trick (and Haley knew them all) that could camouflage that nose. No clever earrings, or hat, or artfully designed spectacle frames had any effect. It was impervious to all that, resolutely, steadfastly, even proudly there, right in the middle of her face, jutting out defiantly, bump and all, dominating her profile.

It was the only feature she had not been able to conquer. Haley sighed, and flipped out her blue contact lenses into their night-time bath, checked her honey-colored hair carefully for black roots, and smoothed pearl cream into her skin. Including the nose.

She went over the figures again. No way she could afford surgery, and if she was forced to get a GoodJob, even less chance she would ever be able to.

She had been pretty lucky, really. Only a couple of Security Forces had ever really noticed the nose enough to question it, and they seemed satisfied with her explanation of an Italian grandmother. Roman nose, she smiled at them.

Incredibly, in all this time, it had apparently never occurred to Homeland Security to ask people to remove their contacts. Or maybe it had, but it was just a question of funding, since so many people had them, and black eyes alone added only a few points to the Score. One could always claim an African-American ancestor somewhere, and any Security Force personnel who challenged that would automatically trigger the lengthy and annoying process of Testing Detention, and in yet another HSA convolution, the Hero points would go to the testor, not the officer that sent the suspect in.

Still, Haley worried about the nose. Since the last HSA procedural review, the Hero Points formula had been revised, and there was more pressure on Security Forces to increase their weekly General Detainee Production. As a General Detainee, testing would be recommended, but might not take place for months, even years, or never, since the only requirement for General Detainee was General Suspicion. It was not necessary to document what the suspicion was. The Wackenhut Provision, they called it, and it was expected to double the company's revenues in the first quarter alone. Acquisition of the behemoth Homeland Depot family of companies insured that streamlined Facility construction would keep up with growing demand.

As an Informally Employed, Haley was not Protected, and was subject to everything from wand search to seizure on sight. Haley preferred to take her chances. She was an unreconstructed Ninetenner. At fifty-five, she simply could not think of GoodJobs as anything but slavery and imprisonment, nose or no nose.

"It's not so bad," her niece had told her at last month's Vacation Hour. "In lots of ways, it's better than before. I mean I don't have to worry about rent any more, or food. And as long as I keep up my Conduct Rating, I get to see Josh every Family Hour."