Manny opened up Aisha’s message. He tried to read it, he really did, but his brain wouldn’t let his eyes focus on the words. His heart started to pound. His gut curdled. And, instead of reading it, he typed her a quick response.

“I’m alive. I’m so sorry, but I don’t know where Oscar is or if he’s made it out.” And then he typed a sentence he knew instantly he’d regret.

“I will do everything I can to find your husband.”

Then he sent the message and stepped out of the room, into the dying light of the late North Texas afternoon. Rolling Fuck unspooled around him. It was crowded, or at least more crowded than it had been yesterday. Dozens of people and non-human people were packed onto the gantry ways and into the sundry buildings added around the rollers and up on the spires. One building that jutted off the rear roller looked like a carousel ride, with little rocket ships instead of horses. It appeared to function as a spinning bar. Drunk people rode the little ships while bartenders in the middle kept them liquored up. Someone shoved by him, a heavily-chromed person with three tails, each topped by the fully-articulated and seemingly sentient head of a cat. One of the cat heads belched a small puff of fire at Manny as their wearer passed.

He shook his head and squeezed his way over to the main roller. It helped a little to pretend he was just pushing his way onto the Austin Metro. While he walked he noticed a message from Reggie. He blink-clicked it open and heard Reggie’s voice in his ear.

“At the rooftop bar, drinking my way through some research. Find me when you wake up. I’m onto something.”

Of course Manny had already been on his way there before he’d seen Reggie’s message. That was the simple reality of British journalists: if it was possible for one to be drinking, that’s what they’d be doing.

The walk took about ten minutes. He crossed a combination of gantry ways, staircases, and even one webbed net. The bar was packed when he arrived but it was easy enough to pick out Reggie. Both his holographic screens were up and active on the bartop in front of him. He was seated next to Skullfucker Mike, and they were deep in conversation when Manny walked up.

“Hey, brother,” Reggie said, “you’ve been out for a long time.”

“Yes,” Manny said. “Nothing like that’s ever happened to me before. How long were you out?”

The journalist thought for a moment and then answered. “I’d guess like a day,” he said. “Mike told me that’s not weird.”

“Yeah,” the chromed man chuckled, “all medicine’s got side-effects. My weird-ass blood’s no different. Y’all cute lil’ humans ain’t made for it.”