Welga tapped a finger at the air in front of her eyes. Check your messages, the gesture meant. Olafson should have a copy of her travel request. He frowned as his eyes shifted focus to his visual, and his fingertips twitched.

He pursed his lips, then said, “What do you think this doctor can tell you that our WAIs and databases can’t?”

“I want to check if there’s a connection between this kid’s genome and the Machinehood. It might be a colossal coincidence, but if his doctors sold out to the al-Muwahhidun—”

“Then we have a start on the money trail.”

“Exactly. It’s illegal to sell a minor’s DNA sample, and if that helped build the Machinehood operatives, this researcher is in big trouble.”

“Which could convince him to give up his al-Muwahhidun contact.” Olafson nodded. “It’s a long shot, but I understand what you were thinking.”

“Can I check it out?” she said. “It’ll be less than a day round trip.”

Olafson flicked his fingertips. “Okay, I’m authorizing the investigation, but I’m coming with you. No solo interrogations, remember?”

Welga shrugged. “It’s an informational interview, but I don’t mind your company.”

“Let’s plan to leave here at three a.m. That’ll give us enough time to see the doctor and return for tomorrow’s afternoon briefing. In the meanwhile, get some food and some rest. We need your body in good shape before you head overseas.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Welga finished the dinner that Olafson had brought down, the Machinehood released a full manifesto along with a second demand: shut down all WAIs and bots within twenty-four hours, or the Machinehood would take care of it themselves.

“Here we go again,” Welga muttered.

She dropped her containers into the recycler as others transformed the dynamic office space into a war room. People taped screens to the walls. The most reliable sources of news and analysis from around the world scrolled across the wall on Welga’s right. Annotated highlights from the manifesto popped like patches of yellow lichen on the left. The one straight ahead of her showed a mishmash of feeds—exfactors, hackers, and law enforcement agents trying to track down the Machinehood.

The manifesto didn’t take long to read, but the comments from other agents cropped up faster than she could parse them. The document’s themes resonated with the machine rights groups—lots of stuff about the abuse of artificial intelligences and the nature of life—but nothing in the manifesto pointed to their methods. There was a short call to action at the end, the same passage they’d released after their first wave of attacks. Welga stared at the final paragraph:

We hereby declare our intention to ensure our rights by any and all means necessary. Humans of this universe, you have a choice: stand with the Machinehood or render yourselves extinct.