I listened to an audio book as I drove, a story about children with magical abilities attending magic school. I found it quite entertaining, despite being almost entirely inaccurate. At least it drowned out the road noise.

Yet again I had reached the point where my apparent age varied wildly from the age quoted on my documentation. My Driver’s Licence said I was born sixty years ago, but people said I looked about thirty. I had cleaned out my old identity, shut down my bank accounts, vacated my apartment, loaded all the belongings I chose to keep into the back of my nondescript truck and left town.

The fake number plates on my truck were both plausible yet difficult for the police to check. I reckoned that if I drove on, or just over, the speed limit, I was extremely unlikely to be pulled over. I’d worry about my lack of identity papers at the time - that could readily be dealt with - but police bodycams might be a real problem.

It was becoming more and more difficult for people like me to obtain a new identity and build a new life. Photographic Identification, databases, public surveillance cameras and now the ubiquitous camera phones, meant the evidence was there if the wrong people were looking for it.

I had heard credible rumours of a remote enclave where people like me had taken refuge, and that was my intended destination.

I’d been on the road for several hours - not the freeway with its abundance of cameras, but smaller roads with less traffic - and I was in dire need of a break, so the next time I saw a rest stop I pulled off the road. The place was in the middle of nowhere but I guessed there had to be enough passing traffic to keep it going. And best of all, it appeared to have no security cameras. I used the restroom to empty my bladder and wash my face.

The diner was basic but it seemed clean and the food smelt good. Apart from the staff, there were about a dozen adult customers and as many again young kids running around. Judging by their apparent familiarity with each other, I guessed most, if not all, were locals. When I entered the diner, I released a few psions - not enough to have them greeting me like an old friend, but enough for them not to be anxious or gawky at the presence of a complete stranger.

A waitress arrived almost as soon as I’d chosen a seat - one from which I could monitor the whole diner, but in a quiet corner where I would be unnoticed and away from the adult hubbub and chaotic kids. She was quite cute, with a kind of rustic fecundity about her. I was sure she’d soon be pushing out kids, something that would leave her fulfilled. If she offered, I wouldn’t mind fucking her, but It would be an ethical breach for me to use persuasion.

“Hello, I’m Angela. I’ll be your waitress today. Are you ready to order?”

I quickly scanned the plastic menu. Pretty standard fare.

“All-day breakfast please. I’d like the bacon to be tender rather than crispy, and could I have an extra portion of mushrooms please? And plenty of black coffee. Do you have mugs?”

It’s really hard to mess up an all-day breakfast, so it was a safer choice than the more adventurous options. But I really don’t like my bacon crispy. I released a couple of psions when I placed my order. That ought to have been enough to make her go the extra mile in getting my bacon right and finding a mug for me.

“I think I’ve seen some mugs in the kitchen. I’ll check while passing your order to cookie. Just signal me when you want a refill.”

“Thank you, Angela.”

She quickly returned with a mug, which she filled to brimming with coffee. From the way she smiled at me, she must have been more suggestible than I guessed and two psions had been overkill. If she offered, I’d better turn down a fuck after all.

While I was waiting, I people-watched. One young girl, about ten or eleven and thin as a rake, monopolised my attention. There was a sort of vibe about her that made me wonder whether she was like me. If she was, she hadn’t learnt how to use her skills yet because she seemed to the customary target of low-level bullying by the other kids, even ones who were younger.

Food took about fifteen minutes and arrived when I was well into my second mug of coffee. I blamed the fries - it didn’t seem like anyone else was eating them so ‘cookie’ probably had to heat up the fryer to the right temperature.

The bacon was perfect, just how I liked it, and the quantity of mushrooms was as generous as I could have hoped. I hungrily set about my food, letting my surveillance of the diner lapse.

I managed to clean the plate, after which I signalled Angela for more coffee. I’d pay for it later when I had to stop to pee every couple of hours, but the meal deserved washing down.

“Would you like dessert?” Angela asked, pointing to the few dessert options at the bottom of the menu.

“No, thank you.” I had probably already eaten so much I was risking drowsiness. Much as I wanted to press on, I reckoned I would need to walk around for half an hour or so before resuming my journey. “Please could I have the check when you’re ready.”

“Of course,” Angela smiled, while refilling my mug.

I resumed my people-watching. While I’d been eating there had been a couple of departures, but the young girl was still there. I guessed the two adults she was interacting with the most were her parents.

The door of the diner swung open and an unkempt young man entered. He was wearing an out-of-season thick coat, something I had seen all too often over the years. Since I might have been wrong, I decided to wait and see how things played out.

Looking nervously around, he walked over to the counter. Then he revealed the semi-automatic he’d been hiding under the coat. He pointed it at the ceiling and fired a few rounds.

Above the screaming, the man shouted, “I don’t want to hurt anyone so just do as I say and don’t try anything clever and no-one will get hurt. Everyone shut the fuck up and get down on the ground now!” He fired a couple more rounds over everyone’s heads as if to make his point.

Everyone, including myself, obeyed the order, although the silence was disturbed by muted sobs from the women present.

The man grabbed a rubbish bin and emptied it onto the floor.

“You,” the man said to one of the waitresses, not Angela, as he poked her with his foot. “Empty the contents of the till into this bin.”

The woman got to her feet and looked around nervously, as though looking for confirmation from whoever was in charge. She must have got it because she went behind the counter, opened the till and put all the takings into the bin.