I stop jogging, come closer, and lean in to look. The body is dressed in soil-smudged white, and its feet are bare. There's no ID band, no tourist badge, and no visible way to signal for security, medics, or an undertaker. Criminal? Nomad? Both are unlikely. The frame is too healthy, the face free of scars. The body-the person-opens her eyes and creaks: "Good day. Where am I? Have I gone wandering again?" I stumble back a step. "Holy -I thought you were dead!" She sits up. 1 wouldn't be so uncivil!" There's age in her eyes, and that wicked glint that belongs only to those too young or too old to give a damn. "Are you well?" I ask. She grins. "As well as I want to be, but sometimes I just want to run away. Know the feeling? Out of reach of i-eyes and e-ears, beyond the locators that pin us to a map of support networks and contented, obedient citizenship."
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