Silk had stared at her for a long, cold minute. Then she had laughed, a sharp, nervous cackle, and called off her men. "You're insane," Silk had whispered.

"Maintenance," Karryn said, perfectly mimicking the flat, bored tone of the head electrician, a man she had observed for weeks. "Surge in the east wing. Need to check your backup regulator."

When she broke Gristle’s jaw, she wasn't just punching a bully. She had run the gambit. Path A: I give him the tray. He takes it as weakness. He tells Silk. Silk sees an opportunity. I am shanked in the shower in 48 hours. Probability: 87%. Path B: I refuse. He attacks. I break his jaw. Silk sees a wildcard. She hesitates. I gain 72 hours of respect. Probability: 73%. Path C: I kill him. I go to Supermax. I lose access to the yard, the library, the laundry. All escape vectors close. Probability of long-term survival: 2%. The choice was obvious.

"You see," she said, walking slowly around his office, trailing a finger over his law books and his framed commendations, "I ran the gambit. Path A: I attack you. You press the alarm. Guards arrive in 45 seconds. I am subdued, sent to Supermax. You win. Probability: 89%. Path B: I don't attack you. I talk. You listen. Probability that you press the alarm: 34%."

"And what will you be doing?"