Cameras swarmed in the hot air. Crowd feedback on her setup ranged from amusement to derision. People left tips along with notes encouraging Welga to try new moves. A few openly asked if she had any information on the Machinehood. She didn’t tell them about the video from Nithya’s coworker. Eastern Senegal was on the front lines of the caliph’s ever-expanding borders, and the dead body in the feed had an undeniable resemblance to the Machinehood’s androids. That a random teenager had managed to catch the evidence meant they’d gotten sloppy with their border security. Maybe the al-Muwahhidun had more important concerns? The Machinehood needed a hiding spot. The Maghreb was a blackout zone, and if any place had the technology to produce those androids, it was there. The pieces fit, but why would the caliph pretend to be a SAI out to destroy humanity’s way of life?

He’d held ambitions to set up an empire since the beginning, “to bring peace, prosperity, and enlightenment to a modern Islamic caliphate.” He’d styled his ideals after the Abbasid dynasty, and his nonviolent but strict approach had found followers hungry for an end to the violence in North Africa and the Middle East. Early intel had shown that he rose from the biogenetic renaissance that revitalized the region’s economy. It explained his love for VeeMods and distaste for bots. Since consolidating his base of power in Marrakech, he’d expanded carefully, ensuring that no satellite could spy on his land and no microcameras penetrated beyond a buffer zone at the border. Was he finally ready to make a move on the global stage? Did her government know about the possible connection to the Machinehood?

She now had two pieces of evidence relating to the attacks. San Francisco had a secure facility for the JIA. Maybe she could walk this stuff there and get it safely into the right hands. She couldn’t trust any other method of delivery, not with something this sensitive, and Nithya’s coworker had endangered herself enough already. But Welga hadn’t set foot in an agency building in seven years. Her stomach knotted at the thought. They probably don’t need my information, anyway, and why would they listen to me now if they didn’t before? She could wait until the liaison showed up for their shield team and show them everything instead.

Welga sent a roundhouse kick at the dummy’s “shoulder.” She imagined it was a Machinehood operative. If she practiced enough, maybe she could react faster.

Fast enough that she wouldn’t have to watch another client die.

“Your heart rate and core temperature are nearing maximum recommended values,” Por Qué said.

“I’ll take a ten-minute break.”