I look at him blankly. “Never.” What would the next step beyond Zeal be? Zeal enacts fantasies, becoming catharsis for pent-up emotions. People start doing it in their early teens, and it’s often a lifelong habit. After they let off steam and come out from their fantasies, the aftereffects are soporific. Any anger or violent urges are suppressed, and if they build up again, the craving for another visit to a Zeal lounge kicks in. Tila and I arrived in San Francisco several years after those our age were hooked, and we never fell into it as much as the others. It’s integrated into therapy, into brainloading information. Most people use Zeal every day, in one form or another.

He hesitates, searching my face for signs of falsehood. I fight the urge to squirm.

“There are two reasons Verve is bad news. First, unlike Zeal, there is no comedown. If you enact a violent fantasy, then when you come out, you don’t feel sated. If anything, a desire for violence is heightened. If it were widespread, we’d see a very clear upswing in crime. Second, Verve is a way for the Ratel to mine dreams for information. It’s like a virus. Once you take it, it locks into your implants. Until the half-life leaves their system, the Ratel can watch what they see, hear what they hear, and even spy on their dreams.”

I don’t respond right away. This doesn’t sound possible. That’s advanced technology, and if Sudice or the government haven’t already done this, then how have the Ratel? Unless … perhaps they stole it from them? It’s not like Officer Oloyu would ever admit something like that happened, not to me.

He’s still waiting for me to say something. “OK. That’s fascinating, but what does it have to do with me?”

“You and your sister are from Mana’s Hearth.”

My stomach tightens, and my knees start shaking again. I clench them together, digging my fingertips into my thighs. “Yes. So?”

“Well.” He leans back in his chair, considering me again. “Lucid dreamers are immune to being influenced by Verve. They could pump you full of the stuff, and not be able to look through your eyes or listen through your ears.”

My breath stops. How could he know about that? “What makes you think I’m a lucid dreamer?”

“Because anyone who leaves Mana’s Hearth is.”

“Not enough people leave the Hearth for you to confidently make that hypothesis.” My science is showing.

“There’s enough. And let me guess—you rarely go to Zeal lounges.”

“So? Plenty of people don’t.”

“The drug does nothing for you. Never has. You don’t wake up feeling your anger has bled from you, or elated by whatever fantasy you had. Why take the drug when you can lucid dream each night?”

I shrug noncommittally.

“Your skills can help us.”