He finds them naked.

The metal door to the basement opened without warning. May was there, motionless, taking in the scene with the coldness of a supervisor evaluating a production line. Her eyes swept over the impeccable tank, the aligned tools, and finally settled on the three naked women, whose bodies gleamed with residual water and algae bits under the raw underground light.

Magi looked up. There was no startle, just an infinite weariness. She held May’s gaze, defiant in her nakedness, knowing any attempt to cover herself would be useless and, what was worse, pathetic.

May offered a thin, almost professional smile. "Pure efficiency," she commented, her voice echoing in the concrete space. "Productivity is born from eliminating obstacles. And it seems you've eliminated the last one."

She walked toward the pile of wet clothes on the floor: the tiny uniforms and the bikinis, heaped like a snake's shed skin. With the tip of her shoe, she pushed the bikinis aside, separating them from the rest.

"But the city isn't ready for so much... efficiency," she said, and for the first time, there was a cruel hint of irony in her tone. "Social norms are another obstacle, but one that, for now, we must navigate."

She pointed to the bikinis with a dismissive gesture. "Put those on. And your bags."

The order was both a relief and a new humiliation. To put on those pieces of wet, dirty fabric again, after having known the brutal freedom of nudity, was a shameful step backward. But they did it. Slow, clumsy movements. The cold, damp fabric stuck to their clean, sweat-free skin, marking them once more.

May watched, impassive, as they fastened the fabric triangles that now seemed more **** than total nudity. Then, she pointed to the lockers. "Your bags. Empty them here."

Magi opened hers. She took out her day bag. She emptied it onto the workbench stained with grease and oil. Her wallet, her keys, her phone, a pack of tissues, a lipstick. Cloe and Lara did the same.

May approached. She didn't touch anything with her hands. She used a screwdriver that was on the bench to poke through the piles. She opened each wallet as if examining contaminated evidence. She took out all the cash, bills and coins, and put it in her lab coat pocket. Then, with the same screwdriver, she pushed the now-empty wallets and all the other items (keys, tissues, makeup) back toward each of them.

"You can keep that," she said. "The rest is extra for your trip home."

She returned their bags, now absurdly light without the weight of their wallets. The phones remained in the locker, turned off and isolated.

"The walk will do you good," she repeated, like a perverse mantra. "It will help you feel the city for real. Without filters. Without distractions. See you tomorrow."