He snorted. “Stay safe, Ramírez.”

The streets were quieter than they had been when she’d arrived three days before. Abandoned and wrecked bots still littered her way, but she didn’t see many people other than those who were prone on the sidewalks. The world had moved to crowdsourced cures as a fast way to counter the bioengineered diseases of midcentury. Kitchens made the treatments handy, and daily design updates had ended the pandemics… until now. Whether those people on the side of the road had fallen to illness or starvation, she couldn’t be sure, and she wouldn’t risk the exposure to find out. At some point, though, even the disease-hackers would run out of supplies. How long would that take?

Ammanuel lived in the subbasement of a low-rent hive. Luckily, their street was free of bodies. Welga ran in, waited like an idiot for the door to open, and then remembered she had to knock.

“Ramírez?” They gawked at her.

She pushed past them into a studio apartment. In the middle of the room, a low table sat surrounded by three basic chairs. Light came from harsh electrics rather than tubes. An unpowered kitchen occupied the back corner, and a mattress lay on the floor nearby, a young masculine person with sandy brown hair sprawled in deep sleep on its surface. Ammanuel wore a basic shift and leggings in a rusty orange that complemented their hair color.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Welga whispered. “I need your help. Hassan said you’re benched for now and have some free cycles.”

“That’s right. Can’t gig, can’t work. What’s going on?”

She held up a hand and deployed the last of the security-swarm from the agency.

“Clear to proceed,” Por Qué said.

Her agent’s flat affect still made her wince. She’d gotten somewhat used to the absence of feeds in her visual, but having Por Qué reduced to a basic WAI felt like she was missing part of her mind.

Welga explained the situation to Ammanuel and concluded by asking them to be a gofer for Connor. She didn’t know them well enough to read their body language as she talked, but to her relief, they agreed.

“Thank you,” she said. “Not too many people I can trust anymore. You’d better pack for a few days. It’s hard to get around.”

“I noticed,” Ammanuel said, “but you can see I don’t have much. Haven’t had the time or coin to settle in. Let me grab a few things from the bathroom and say good-bye. I’ll meet you outside.”