Last bit. The story starts here
In a dark room, surrounded by monitors and the soporific swaying of silent crowds, a man sent out a message to the guardians of the peace in sector B307. They’d pick her up from the retina prints. Her eyes would glow like beacons to their devices. He had never planned on this, never asked to be picked for this job, but refusing wasn’t an option. They had tracked her down, the carrier, and he was only doing his job.
Somewhere, in the back of his memories, something stirred—a child sucking her thumb as she slept in her cot—and the unexpected rush of tears blurred the confused image of a young woman struggling in the arms of faceless black uniforms.