She wasnt supposed to trip. She was allowed to enjoy herself, but not to trip. She had ruined the careful preparation in the days leading up to the event, and all the schemes we had waiting in the shadows had been effectively crippled.
And worse; another Amanda had seen her. This witness had no identification number, needed no identification number. She was Amanda, Original Specimen, and she reacted to the stimuli of a perfect replica of herself exactly as we had feared; she stopped the Music.
Huddled, unlimited creativity on pause, Amanda considered this. Her carefully applied, quizzical ringleaders eyebrows provided the only expression on her pale face; it was a blank canvas, two blue-grey eyes focused on thoughts, perfect teeth that caught the corner of her lip unconsciously.
What to do? What to do. It was too late to fix this now.
Before Amanda 29 had slipped, she had been disguised as a member of the audience. We still werent sure exactly how she had convinced us