On Friday Gabby helps suppress a sweatshop strike and things get nasty: children with bricks, gas and close quarters. She breaks her baton on a six-year-old’s head. She stabs another with the haft.
Shaking in the shower, after, she whispers an Act of Contrition and turns the water off. She makes her hand rise. She touches the panel marked PENANCE.
Electricity wrings out her memory, and a long scream.
“Where’s my dinner, woman?” she growls, entering through the kitchen, kissing Tess on the cheek.
“Mmm,” says Tess, “and how was your day?”
Gabby snorts. It’s a very old joke.