The funders did push products that sustained competition between human and machine labor, but that had been the way of life for decades. Centuries, if you counted from the dawn of the industrial age. Why would the alternative lead to a better life? Workers always suffered at the hands of the more powerful. Would a VeeMod population lead to less exploitation? Maybe not, but it might save people like my mother… like me… from destroying our bodies in the service of our work.

None of that had any bearing on the dakini’s methods. Violence against people and property couldn’t be the answer. No matter their politics or philosophy, she would have to stop the dakini before they could cause further harm.

Welga subvocalized, “Por Qué, show me my internal diagnostics.”

A window appeared in Welga’s visual with her vitals and foreign body counts.

“After this, I will bring you some food and drink, if the doctor permits,” Clemence said.

“Thank you.” The words slipped past her lips just in time. The room began to spin and swirl. Her visual dropped away.

“Preliminary seizure symptoms,” Por Qué warned. Her voice stretched into auditory taffy as Welga lost touch with reality. “You should lie down.”

But Welga couldn’t move. Words blurred. Speech was impossible. The darkness of outer space closed in.

Christ, she was tired of these epic hangovers. Welga didn’t bother to open her eyes. They’d know when she was awake.

“Por Qué, you there?”

“I’m here, Welga.”

“How long was I out?”

“Your seizure lasted about a minute, and you were unconscious for twenty-seven minutes. Dakini Clemence relocated you after the seizure. You are currently in a medical facility, according to the station information that I can access.”

“My head hurts.”

“The doctor has advised no modifications to your biochemistry. I’m sorry, but they won’t allow pain drugs.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Can you open your eyes?” said a voice from Welga’s left.

“No,” she mumbled. “Too painful.”

A pause. “I overrode the medical advisement. You should experience relief shortly. You also have permission for limited access to our network and to activate your visual again.” Another pause. “Olga Ramírez. We did a background check on you before approving your application for co-residency with Connor Troit. We know of your work for the MARSOC Raiders and ATAI. We reviewed the investigations after Marrakech, and we understand why you left to become a shield. We know that your government recruited you to help them with the Machinehood attacks. We watched you capture Khandro, and we appreciate your understanding of nonviolence during that encounter. But… you’re not a Buddhist. You’re not Indian or Chinese. You stowed away in a cargo capsule. Do you expect us to believe that you’re here to become a resident, alone and without your partner?”