Her eyes twitched to either side, desperate to see the feeds of her family and friends, but the network stayed off-line. Luis was with Papa, and Nithya was healthy and capable. Her sister-in-law was smart, probably doing better than her brother, but neither had a clue about protecting themselves from the worst elements of society. And Connor—she couldn’t stop thinking about his bruised, pale face from their last conversation. How would the hospital deliver medication to him with the stellas off-line? How long before people could launch and activate new network drones? They regularly fell from their high-altitude paths when they broke, but making enough new units to replace the entire world’s constellations at once sounded impossible. Could they do a few at a time? Did her government have an emergency plan for situations like this? Would HQ have a way to reach beyond agency offices? Welga clutched the steering wheel and thumbed the accelerator. If Connor dies, so help me, you will suffer, dakini.

Her final quad-zip left a bitter taste, and she drank the last of their water to wash it away. Nobody had bothered to eat. The dakini said she could recycle her water and had no need for food. Olafson slept. Signs of distress and destruction surrounded them along the drive and left Welga’s stomach churning.

They nearly abandoned the trike on the final stretch to headquarters. Their route passed north of DC, through residential streets lined by hives. Cleaner-bots, delivery-bots, vehicles, and other WAI-based machines cluttered the roads. Many were dented or broken. Some looked as if they’d been thrown from upper windows, their innards spread in arcs of debris. What the hell were people doing for food with their kitchens lying shattered in the road? The low-lying panic that had started with the Machinehood Manifesto must have erupted into full-blown madness when the stellas dropped.

Welga played a game of chicken with a group of teenagers beating on a care-bot that bleated, “Violence is not a solution,” from its remaining speaker. The gang eyed the trike and formed a line across the road. She thumbed the accelerator and aimed for the one in the middle. Thankfully, they dove out of the way in time, but a small, evil-minded part of her wished they hadn’t. They might beat on bots and WAIs today, but when those were broken and gone, what next? Not that the machines deserved it. Only an asshole would beat a helpless animal, and the devices on the road were little different.

A sofa crashed down two meters from them. Welga swerved and swore. No time to slow down. Tremors rippled her leg muscles like wind over a pond. Sparkling colors dusted her vision of the world. Please don’t let me have a seizure while driving. Six shitty little kilometers—come on, body, get us there!