It was a sandy wasteland, dotted with blown-over tents and abandoned houses. Well, “houses” was maybe too nice of a word. They were more like sheds, formed with flyaway pieces of wood and tin. A low, mournful wind rolled over the terrain, brushing up against their cheeks like it was the first suggestion of warmth and company it had in a while.

Seeing what was all around them, Ahmad was sure it was.

“This is the district of dreams?” Winnie repeated. “It looks more like the type of place you’d see in a nightmare.”

“It wasn’t always this way,” Vijay Bhai said softly behind her. He knelt down, letting the sand slide through his fingers. “There was a carousel, and a man who sold liquid moonlight. On some nights, there would be fireworks. On others, if you listened, you could hear the desert singing to you.”

“So why get rid of it?” Winnie asked. “If it was such a wonderful place?”

“It was a wonderful place, but not in the Architect’s eyes.” Vijay Bhai shook his head. “The majority of the inhabitants were poor people. They didn’t care to bow and scrape and beg him for more than what they had, and I think he wanted them to. He didn’t like the fact that they managed to be so happy when they didn’t depend on him.”

“I’m surprised any of this is still here,” T.T. called behind Ahmad as he waded through the sand toward one of the tents. As he drew closer, he could see gaudy stripes and tattered sheets of what must have been posters before. Was it one of those sideshow exhibitions those boys earlier had on their game? “The MasterMind unraveled most of this from the code quite early on, with the Architect’s blessing.”

Ahmad lifted one of the limp flaps of paper. On the back, an animated drawing of a bodybuilder scowled and shook his fist, but something about the movement was defeated: almost like he was going through the motions without any real anger behind it.

“It’s odd to call it a blessing,” Vijay Bhai said distantly. It didn’t seem like he was speaking to any of them at all, staring out with clenched fists over the wasteland. “It seems more like a curse. All of this was so beautiful, and look at it now.”

“It’s terrible,” Ahmad whispered. “This is terrible.”

It hadn’t sunk in until now, in spite of all the MasterMind’s jeering and what they heard of the Architect’s malice and temper tantrums. But now it did: They were dealing with people who could care less about other lives, whether they were computer-generated or not. If it didn’t fit in with their plans, it wasn’t worth valuing.

That could be this dark, dim corner of Paheli, or the wide, bustling world Ahmad knew: his beloved city, and everything that lived in it.