I ignore the salespeople asking if I need help and shoplift the disk, barely even needing to try. This cloak of invisibility isn’t a suit of battle armor or some other tech from another universe that Figueiredo has probably already stolen and improved, but it’s all I have. Besides, I’m the weapon, now. My skin singes and my molars feel like they could crack under the cranking of my jaw muscles.

Back on my pink beach, I swear the Envisioner knows what’s up. I run my hands over her facets, hushing her with my head. She knows what I want her to do and she doesn’t want to budge. I can see Kaori and Figueiredo in the Compound back home in flashes, like a night after a bender that I’m trying to remember. They’re looking for us, taking turns asking questions and spinning the dials, with Figueiredo laying his hands on the machine like I am now. He waves here and there in the Theater, talking of you really should create a wider berth here in case of large brane-incision kickback and perhaps I’ll allow you provisional access to the All-Eye if things here go smoothly. Kaori nods, taking notes on her tablet, cowed for him like I’ve never seen her for anyone else.

Tell them I’m dead, I nudge the machine.

She plants her feet, stubborn, not wanting to lie. Instead of yanking on the machine’s leash, I rub her behind the ears until her tongue lolls out. But it’s not a lie, right? What did Figueiredo say about all of space-time unfolding simultaneously? I’m dead already, somewhen. Just fudge the timeline a bit.

I feel her hesitating until she rolls over, flashing me her spotted belly for a rub. A spark flicks out into the Envisioner network and I can see Kaori’s eyes flitting to the screen in the machine on the Compound.

“They’re separated…” she trails. “Yusuf’s nearby—some hotel in Beatty. And Hayes… I think he’s dead?”

Figueiredo’s eyes flash with steel. “Bring Yusuf here.”

Well, fuck.

The machine is a little trickster, flashing her teeth, her tongue lolling out. You can save Yusuf or yourself, but never both. Now, why don’t we play a little game? Mystic Lady Pythia in her glass booth by the restaurant shrugs, bored. Your lucky number is green.

*   *   *

When you’re already dead to the only people you care about, you start giving zero shits about yourself.

I’ve got no idea what they’ll do to Yusuf. The machine wouldn’t cough up what Kaori and Figueiredo are planning. I have to be fast. As far as Figueiredo and Kaori know, their plans are already fucked anyway, with me dead and unable to set the threads right once everyone is in their universe of origin. But when you’re insane with grief you’ll try anything.