I come out of the memory like I’m coming up for air. Nazarin and I gape at each other, but there’s no time to speak before we collide with other memories. I experience more of the fractured life of Ensi. From the shards, I piece together more of the picture. Ensi is almost sixty, which must be Mana-ma’s age as well. She looks younger, but it could be genetics rather than a hypocritical visit to a flesh parlor in the city.

Ensi left the Hearth with Mana-ma’s blessing, coming to San Francisco with the plan they had stitched together. He was found on the streets and given a VeriChip and a place in a home for youth, choosing the name Veli Carrera. Seeing his obvious interest in science, the home encouraged him to brainload, and he did so well, he soon had a degree. He researched local scientists and decided Mantel would be his mentor, and he found a way to come to his attention.

He thrived, and Mantel helped him flourish. Mantel had no son, but a few years later, one arrived. The CEO of Sudice still treated “Veli Carrera” as a son, and when Veli earned it, Mantel passed the company to him rather than to his biological son.

Memories of the lab, of using the mushrooms Mana-ma sent from the Hearth to distill and create Zeal. Brainloading more information than it seems he can bear, shuddering at the feeling of electrodes and wires against his skin, so different from the simple ways of the Hearth. He wouldn’t have done it, he couldn’t have done it, if he hadn’t loved Mana-ma so deeply.

Throughout all the memories is the stink of the swamp, the threat of things swimming beneath the surface.

Ensi, as Carrera, was there through the run-out of Zeal, but as new product after new product was shot down by the government, he grew increasingly annoyed. His and Mana-ma’s plan was delayed. Zeal kept the crime low, which kept the city happy enough. Ensi did not share his ideas for another drug, one that could change personalities to make citizens more tractable.

Then Ensi lost it all. Mantel’s son ousted him. Ensi was cut loose, and he was making new plans when he discovered that Mantel’s son’s hatred ran deep enough for murder. I saw fragments of him killing the hitman sent to find him, hiding in the streets, the many surgeries in back-end flesh parlors, and then deciding to enter the very group hired to kill him. He started as the lowest Pawn, but strategy had been drilled into him since he was young.