Welga blinked at the alert in her visual. Who the hell would be routing an anonymous message to her? The agency had no reason to. The public network remained dark. Machine rights people? The odds of them hacking the emergency stellas were slim. The Machinehood, on the other hand… If the enemy engaged, she couldn’t ignore it.

“Display message.”

Nithya. Of all people. She’d sent an enormous document full of charts and numbers along with a note, brief and stunning: Find Josephine Lee, a bioethics lawyer who worked with the EUBGA and others. She can help us get data for your motor-system problem.

“Download the document,” Welga said. It would take hours, but she had other shit to deal with in the meantime.

She drove away from the station. How the hell had Nithya accessed the emergency network? And how had she come across Jun-ha Park’s mother? So Ao Tara had information relating to Welga’s zip problem. Too rich. Her leg twitched. Maybe the monk would cooperate with Welga out of sympathy. After all, her son had died from some kind of disease. Didn’t she owe Welga—and others suffering like her—some help? Find Josephine Lee. Welga nearly laughed out loud. One more reason to get to Eko-Yi.

She pulled into the driveway of the house. The truck was so wide, the right tires ended up in the front yard. Sheets of temporary-use plastic covered the left side of the house. Luis opened the front door and peered out. His jaw dropped briefly, then closed as she stepped out of the vehicle. He ran and wrapped her in a hug. She leaned into him.

“You came! He’s not doing good.”

Welga pulled back. “Who? What are you talking about?”

Luis frowned. He turned and led her inside. Wood boards covered the windows. Dim light came from old ceiling lamps in the kitchen and living room, the sunlight tubes sitting still and dark. The odor of stale smoke tickled her nose.

“Papa had a heart attack,” Luis said. “I thought maybe you saw it on your spy network. That’s not why you’re here?”

Welga clutched her brother’s arm as the world spun. “What? No, I came… because…” She stopped talking as all her breath escaped. Her leg tingled. “Shit! Not again.”

Luis’s concerned expression swam in and out of her sight, then everything went sparkly black.

When consciousness returned, Welga had a perfect view of the ceiling. It needed paint. Goddamn static houses and their maintenance. Her head throbbed. Oscar sat nearby, resembling a skeleton hung with brown paper skin.

“Papa,” she said. Her voice emerged hoarse and rough.

He moved to her side. His hand was warm and dry as it brushed the hair from her forehead. “Thank God. You were so still after that convulsion, I was afraid… well, you’re all right now.”

“Where’s Luis?”

“I’m here,” her brother said.