completely forgotten. I thought what I felt was dread.
“When?” I asked. The many eyes jittered, unaware of us.
“Soon.”
When I was alive, I’d hunted Lev Prutsko. Or, rather, I’d hunted him and his comrades, thinking they were the same man. The murders they’d committed seemed glamorous to the media machine. I’d begun to see my face on the news bands, each time looking older and more desperate. I’d thought I was just driven, looking for a way out of the second tier, but my obsession had been manufactured. Fawkes’s enemies had been pulling my strings, stressing me like an engine ready to fail. In a way, Lev had saved me.
Fawkes went on to kill six hundred of what he’d termed the mutations, but it hadn’t been enough. Ai hit back, and destroyed almost everything.
Lev’s hand gripped mine and he helped me from the chair. For some reason, he only ever touched me.
“He wanted to speak to you when you woke up,” he said.
“Fawkes?”
“Yes.”
I hadn’t expected that. They were looking hard for him, and he knew it. If Fawkes would risk direct communications, he planned to attack before it would matter.
“What does he want?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He wouldn’t say any more. He moved to the wall to join the rest of them. A moment later his eyes began to move, tuning into that wave of random jitter and leaving me there, alone.
Information came flooding across the link. At first it seemed like a stream of junk data, but as it piled in the new node’s buffers, I realized it wasn’t random at all; it was hundreds of individual links. The node sorted through the jumble of circuits, assigning a connection point to each thread. As it did, I understood what those links were.
They reminded me of waves at the shore, like hundreds of whispers rising and falling. They were almost as compelling as the void.
For a moment, I was stunned. His name stirred something inside me, something I couldn’t define. I waited for the swirl of embers to calm, for my memories to reorganize themselves. When faced with it, I saw how much I’d loved him. The ache that I’d spent so much time denying was clear enough to me now, though I could no longer actually feel it. I had truly loved this man.
I didn’t ask Fawkes why he had chosen me. It was because he thought Nico loved me, too.
Under the tent, a circuit closed with a snap. Restraints were pulled tight as the buzz rose in pitch.
“Hold,” the electronic voice said. “Gathering for iteration three-six-two.”
I nodded, though he wasn’t there to see it.
I nodded again, by myself, in the dark.
4 Reap
Nico Wachalowski—Suehiro 9
Pleasantview Apartments were ironically named. They weren’t the worst I’d seen, but the upkeep was a problem and it had gotten worse over the past two years. Trash was piled up in bags near the main entrance, and with all the rain, you could smell it from the sidewalk. Not for the first time, I wondered why someone with Zoe’s