Three years ago, Adrian Vale rented out something he had never even offered.
At least, that was what the screen in front of him said.
Adrian stared at the digital document. One hand held a coffee cup that had gone cold, while the other scrolled the screen to double-check the contract data.
Owner name: Adrian Vale.
Contract date: 17 October 2038.
Duration: 180 days.
Status: Active.
Adrian frowned.
"This has to be a system error."
He opened the verification panel and entered his personal access code. As a senior identity consultant at LIFELINE, he had clearance to inspect nearly any contract flagged as problematic. Data errors were nothing new to him.
But this time, the verification result only left him more confused.
IDENTITY RENTAL RECORD
OWNER: ADRIAN VALE
CONTRACT ID: LF-3817-AX
RENTAL PERIOD: 17 OCT 2038 – 15 APR 2039
RENTER: RESTRICTED
STATUS: ACTIVE
Adrian set his cup down.
The date was indeed three years ago. Back then, he had still been a junior analyst in the verification division. He even remembered spending most of his time at the office, chasing a promotion.
There had been no rental contract.
No loss of access.
No stranger taking over his work.
He had still been using his own identity.
"Adrian?"
A woman's voice made him turn.
Mira, his division's assistant, stood near the door holding a tablet.
"You haven't sent the report for the Vantage Group client."
"One moment."
"You said that twenty minutes ago."
"I'm in the middle of finding something more interesting."
Mira glanced at his screen. "A case?"
"A data error."
"Then hand it over to the technical department."
"The problem is, the system treats this error as correct."
Adrian turned the screen slightly.
Mira read the document for a few seconds. Her expression changed when she saw the name of the contract owner.
"That's your name."
"Unfortunately."
"Did you ever rent out your identity?"
"No."
"Maybe someone used your data."
"That doesn't explain why the contract was verified."
Mira stepped closer and examined the contract code. She tried to open the renter's information, but the screen displayed an access restriction notice.
"The renter's data has been locked by the operations director," she said.
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
A restriction like that only applied to contracts connected to internal investigations or high-level company interests.
"Since when does an ordinary contract require the director's permission?"
"Since someone decided you don't need to know everything."
Adrian turned toward the voice.
Marcus Venn stood in the doorway.
LIFELINE's operations director wore a dark gray suit and the same calm expression as always. He was nearing fifty, but his appearance was always immaculate and difficult to read.
"Mr. Marcus," Mira greeted him.
Marcus nodded briefly before turning his gaze to Adrian.
"Come with me."
Marcus's office was on the thirty-second floor of LIFELINE's main building.
Its glass walls offered a view of Veyra, a metropolis crowded with high-rises and automated transit lines. Below, thousands of people went about their lives under identities already registered digitally.
For some people, identity was something attached to them from birth.
For LIFELINE's customers, identity could also be a second chance.
Someone with no reputation could rent the professional access of a well-known entrepreneur. An ordinary worker could borrow an executive's career credibility for the length of a contract.
They did not receive the owner's face or memories. They received only the social access the system permitted.
LIFELINE called it Human Rental.
And Marcus was one of the people responsible for keeping that business running.
"Where did you get that contract?" Marcus asked.
"The internal database."
"You shouldn't have accessed it."
"The contract uses my name."
Marcus sat down behind his desk.
"An administrative error."
"It's been verified three times."
"Old data isn't always accurate."
"Then why is its status still active?"
Marcus didn't answer right away.
Adrian noticed a slight change in his superior's face. It lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to make him suspicious.
"Sir, has my identity ever been used by someone?"
"Every contract carries the owner's consent."
"I never gave consent."
"Perhaps you forgot."
Adrian almost laughed.
"Are you joking?"
Marcus folded his hands on the desk.
"Adrian, there are many things in this job you needn't trouble yourself with. Our system serves millions of users. Small errors can happen."
"A small error doesn't make someone rent out his own life without knowing it."
"Don't use the word life. We only rent out identity access."
"The difference isn't very large for the person who loses that access."
Marcus stared at him for a long moment.
"You read too many violation reports."
"Maybe because my job is to investigate violations."
Marcus sighed.
"I'll have the technical team delete the record. Consider this never to have happened."
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
He had worked at LIFELINE for six years. He knew the company had plenty of rules, but he also knew that every contract record was supposed to leave a trace that couldn't simply be erased.
What was more, Marcus had never asked whether Adrian had actually rented out his identity.
As if the man already knew the answer.
At 5:40 p.m., Adrian returned to his workspace.
Most of the employees had already left the office. The lights in some rooms were beginning to switch off automatically.
He opened the contract database again.
His record was still there.
But this time he used his personal audit access to search the contract's activity history.
The result made his back go rigid.
Thirty-seven activities had been logged during the rental period.
Thirty-seven activities scattered across many places.
A business conference.
Two professional meetings.
Seven financial transactions.
Several communications with outside parties.
And one activity marked in red.
IDENTITY ACCESS: PERSONAL NETWORK.
Adrian opened the details.
Someone had used his social access to contact people he knew.
He scanned the list of names.
College friends.
Former coworkers.
Even someone from his family.
Adrian frowned when he found one name at the bottom of the list.
ELENA VALE.
His mother.
He opened the communication history.
One message was logged, sent on 23 November 2038.
Sorry, Mom. I can't come home this week. There's work I have to finish.
Adrian went still.
He remembered that date.
He really hadn't gone home for several weeks because of work. But he had never sent that message.
He picked up his phone and searched for his old conversation with his mother.
The same message was there.
The sender's number was his own.
The sending time matched.
Adrian read the message once more.
How could someone send a message from his identity without his losing access?
He opened the technical details.
No device was recorded.
No sender location.
Only one short note.
SOURCE: LIFELINE CONTINUITY NETWORK.
Adrian had never heard the term before.
He tried to open the internal documentation, but the system rejected his request.
Access unavailable.
He tried again.
The result was the same.
Then his computer screen flickered.
A notification window appeared.
LIFELINE SECURITY NOTICE
Unauthorized inquiry detected.
Your access to contract LF-3817-AX has been restricted.
Please contact your assigned administrator.
Adrian leaned back.
Someone had just restricted his access remotely.
He closed the notification window, then picked up his phone. A message had come in from an unknown number.
Unknown Number:
Don't look for the renter of that contract.
Adrian read the message.
A few seconds later, a second message arrived.
He isn't the only person who has ever used your identity.
Adrian immediately typed a reply.
Adrian: Who is this?
No answer.
He tried calling the number, but the call cut off at once.
Then one last message appeared.
Tomorrow, ten o'clock. Meet Selene Arden.
Adrian stared at the name.
He didn't know anyone named Selene Arden.
Before he could search for more information, the computer screen lit up again. This time it was not a security notice.
A new contract had appeared in the system.
NEW RENTAL REQUEST
OWNER: ADRIAN VALE
PROPOSED RENTER: SELENE ARDEN
DURATION: 90 DAYS
STATUS: PENDING APPROVAL
Adrian read the owner's name.
Then the renter's.
He didn't know who Selene Arden was, but this woman had just submitted a request to rent his identity.
The request had been sent five minutes ago.
Adrian opened the approval section.
There was one additional note there that stopped his breath for a moment.
PREVIOUS RENTAL HISTORY: VERIFIED.
Someone had submitted a request to rent his identity for a second time.
And this time, the system did not hide the renter's name.
SELENE ARDEN.