“Yep.” I wonder why he asks. It’s not as if it’s rare in San Francisco.

He looks away and powers up the hovercar, taking off toward the safe house. We don’t speak, both gazing at San Francisco and its flashing lights spread out before us, lost in our own thoughts. I lean my head against the window, my eyes fluttering shut as I doze fitfully.

Once we’re back in the gingerbread house, it’s growing late. I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and pull the covers over me, but Nazarin has to hook me into the Chair for a few hours. Then it’ll be time to call Tila’s friends—as her—and tell them why I won’t be answering their pings for a while.

I sway with exhaustion. All the mental and emotional stress has now compounded with the physical. I pop a few Rejuvs and let Nazarin strap me into the Chair. It brings back memories of my engineering training and waking up with facts and numbers in my head, but not being able to move. I push them away.

I want my sister. I want to hold her close, to tell her everything, to have her tell me it’ll be all right. When I’m anxious and my mind moves too quickly, she rubs the back of my neck, easing out the tension, her words soothing in my ear. How many times have I fallen asleep to the sound of her voice?

Tila is not here, and she’s the reason I’m doing all this. My whole world has tilted on its axis. Memories of my sister are now tainted by all the lies I know she’s told. I didn’t see it. How could I not have seen it? How can I ever hope to trust my own judgment again?

“OK,” Nazarin says, drawing me from my thoughts, setting the electrodes on my skull and lowering me down. He even draws the blanket over me, which is an oddly touching gesture. I am shivering, but more from unease than cold. Nazarin takes out the needle, prepping the Zeal and melatonin mixture which will help ease the learning. It’s a much lower dosage of Zeal than they use in the lounges—just enough to prep the implants to receive the information.

“We’re starting you off with general Ratel info,” he says. “What we know, so will you. The hierarchy, the main businesses they’re involved in, the identities we’ve managed to scrounge. Some recordings of interrogations, that sort of thing.”

After my nap, I’ll be a Ratel expert. I wonder if they’re going to have to wipe all this information after this investigation is over, but I decide not to ask now. They can take info out almost as easily as putting it in, these days.