"Well, I need you to make up all the stories you can for her about yourself. Like that you're a princess, or you're a mermaid, or I'm an angel. Can you think of a story?"

"Can I be a DRAGON who EATS STARS. I like the stories that go like that."

"Absolutely! And if you tell the nice lady all about how you are a dragon who eats stars, I will buy you an ice cream."

"I CAN DO THAT."

"Okay, but you have to NOT tell her true things either! Because she is a good lady and she WANTS to hear true things. So you shouldn't tell her that your name is Zaida or I'm Fred or you were taken by the Meltons."

"Oh. You want me to tell LIES."

"Yes! I want you to tell as MANY lies as you can think of."

"I can tell LOTS of lies."

She has a lot of practice.

Awesome!

Fred drives around until he finds a high-end hackerspace, one that advertises its peacefully news- and television-free atmosphere. He takes a deep breath, helps Zaida out of her carseat, and puts on his best frazzled-parent face. 

He hurries into the hackerspace holding Zaida. "Excuse me-- I'm so sorry-- my daughter decided to give herself a haircut--"

"I am a space alien," Zaida informs them, solemnly.

Fred makes his best apologetic embarrassed parent face. "I swear I just looked away for one second, this never happens when her mom is watching her-- I know I don't have a membership, but do you think you could watch her for three hours so I can get my work done and find a salon that'll take her at the last minute?"

The receptionist looks deeply sympathetic. "Of course," she says, "that will be $100," and doesn't blink when Fred pays cash.

"The space alien planet is waaaaay up high," says Zaida, because actually she likes talking about how she is a space alien. "And it's called Gflaxgk."

Fred is pretty impressed about her ability to pronounce that!

He gets back in the car and drives to a Starbucks; he parks outside but logs in to their wifi. 

Up until now, everything he was doing was reversible. He could drop Zaida off back at the Meltons'; when she said he was her kidnapper, he could laugh and say that Zaida was always making up stories. But now he is using up one of his really good pieces of information, something it would be hard to get back.

Everyone wants their own Eye's login information. There are various ways to get it; all it takes is a moment of sloppiness or a well-positioned video camera. But Fred had always thought that was stupid. If you use the login credentials of the Eye that's watching you, then everyone will know who did it. Fred had bribed someone to give him access to the video camera that watched an Eye who focused on resistance groups in Iowa. Try to figure out who stole that. 

Mentally mourning the many long and boring hours he had spent trying to figure out if that Eye had been typing "p" or "o", Fred logged in, looked up the emergency number of the head of the St. Louis Eyes, and called. 

"This is Christopher," Fred says. "There's an emergency."