“It says here you helped design the VivaFog.” Those machines have been my life’s work for the past five years: the machines that take energy from the ever-present fog around the bay and relay it to the coastal apartments. We’re going to try and expand to the maritime district this year.

“I was one of the team that did, yes,” I respond. Why isn’t he asking the questions he really wants the answer to? Beneath the table, I press my knees hard to stop them knocking together.

Officer Oloyu isn’t saying anything out of order, but everything in his body language screams: I suspect you, either of murder or accessory to it. I wish I still had that microexpression overlay downloaded to my ocular implants, but I deleted it months ago. I didn’t like what it told me about people.

“That’s impressive,” Officer Oloyu says. I’m not sure whether or not I sense the underlying subtext I often do from people who know my past: for someone who grew up in the cult of Mana’s Hearth.

“Thank you,” I tell him, meeting his eyes.

“We contacted your employer, but it seems you quit your job today and have plans to leave the country.”

“Yes, that’s correct. That’s been in the works for months. It’s not a sudden decision.” I feel a flutter of nerves, deep in my stomach. It’s a coincidence, but it doesn’t look good.

“We’re unclear if this is premeditated or a crime of passion.”

“I had nothing to do with this. Whatever this is. And I’m sure my sister didn’t, either.”

He pauses, considering me. The overhead lighting leaves half his face in shadow. I look down at my stone-cold coffee. I want water, but I don’t ask him for it.

“Did your sister seem different at all, the last time you saw her? Distressed in any way?”

“No. She seemed the same as usual. Laughing, joking. We went to an Ethiopian restaurant in the Mission.”

His gaze goes distant as he makes a mental note with his implants.

This is my first lie to the police. She seemed thinner, she didn’t laugh. She picked at her food, when usually Tila has a voracious appetite. I kept asking her what was wrong, but she said she’d just been working too many late nights at the club. The lie fell from my mouth before I thought about it, and I can’t take it back.

They’ve mapped my brain to see if I’m lying. A model floats above our heads, delicate and transparent, dotted with neuron clusters like stars. Oloyu glances up to check. Between my mechanical heart not growing as excited as a flesh one and my Hearth training, nothing happens. I could lie with impunity. If they map Tila, she can too.