“Genes that allow the body to accept foreign objects, both implanted and interfaced, with a lower likelihood of rejection. Jun and his sister had that in common, but his autoimmune disorder overwhelmed them. Ultimately, his body rejected the mech-tech and itself.”

“Could we get a copy of his sister’s genomic record?”

“I’ll need authorization to release that, as she was a minor at the time. We’ve never published it.”

“Naturally. You’ve been very ethical,” Olafson said.

The conversation paused as their agents transferred the required information.

“Por Qué,” Welga subvocalized, “check the incoming genome against the special segments from Jun-ha Park and the blood sample.”

Her agent popped an image into her visual ten seconds later: the android, Jun-ha Park, and his sister all had perfect matches in those segments. She copied the information to Olafson with the message: These are the same sequences found in the sample from the dead Machinehood operative in Chennai! A triple match. No way that’s a coincidence.

Smith cocked his head at them. “What exactly is this about? I assumed you were here to follow up on the malpractice suit, but I don’t see how the sister’s genome is relevant.”

Olafson smiled. “I’m afraid we can’t disclose the nature of our investigation, but thank you for your time and cooperation. Would you mind if we look around your house?”

“Well, no, but—I mean, of course, you’re welcome to. To look around,” Smith stammered. “I have an examination room in the back, where I see patients. It’s locked, but I can open it.”

“Yes, please,” said Olafson.

As Welga followed Olafson and Smith, a message lit up her visual field: The Machinehood sees all. We are prepared.

She exchanged a glance with Olafson.

“Get the kids away from the house!” she yelled. She grabbed the doctor’s arm and shoved him toward Olafson. “No time to explain!”

Olafson pulled the stumbling man toward the front door and scooped up an errant child along the way. Welga ran up the stairs, checking every room and closet. She listened as Olafson corralled everyone outside.

“Make sure you stay in the middle part of the road,” he instructed. “Dr. Smith, is anyone else in the house?”

“My partner, Kevin!”

“Ramírez—”

“I’ll find him,” Welga replied, already moving.

Kevin lay in the back bedroom, his frail form and a nearby wheeled care-bot telling her all she needed to know. Welga scooped the man up under his shoulders and knees.

His eyelids flew open. “What—”

“Emergency,” Welga huffed as she ran down and out with him.

Olafson was herding the children farther from the house. Two little ones wailed in protest or fear. She and Kevin joined them as explosives roared to life. The ground shook. All of them cried out as glass and debris rained over them. Drone swarms gathered overhead in the aftermath. Sirens wailed in the distance.