Along the edges of the yard, Gray Hand personnel waded into the crowd and started distributing metal tags without wasting a single word. One stopped in front of Neo and dropped a black tag into his palm. Another handed Alice a white one. Snot got red, which he flipped over once and clicked his tongue at.
"Well. That doesn't feel promising."
Neo already knew what was coming. The cold weight in his chest had climbed there for a reason.
Alice checked her own tag. "Different routes."
"Yeah," Snot muttered. "I hate that immediately."
The man on the platform refused to wait for the courtyard to settle before speaking again. "Your tags determine your route. When your color is called, you move. You move alone, you move fast, and you do not attempt to correct our decisions for us. If you enter the wrong gate, interfere with another route, or fail to grasp a simple instruction, you'll leave through the front."
