Mistletoe studied the floor, located a dark smudge the vacuum had missed. She felt like a fairy-tale demon who flitted into people’s lives and left behind wreckage. Her wrist brushed against the lump of the login capsule in her pocket. As soon as she could find an excuse to get away from the professor, she’d head for the only subcanopy signal she knew of.

“What else happened in there?” Deirdre asked. Mistletoe looked up. She noticed the wrinkles around the outside of the professor’s eyes, the deep creases of worry etched into her forehead. Maybe survivors ended up weary and hollow; maybe Pyotr was the lucky one.

“Martin’s big mansion was growing.”

“You saw Greymatter?”

“Can’t miss it. It’s where everybody was going. Their Profiles were feeding it, or something.”

Deirdre’s eyes were someplace far away. “I always used to think people down here should fight to be allowed inside Unison, that we had a responsibility to help every human being share in the progress such a great social network represented. But toward the end Pyotr thought we were better off without it. He used to say, ‘UniCorp is planting users like seeds, watching them grow, waiting for the harvest.’”

When the office door opened, Mistletoe turned gratefully to Sliv. He’d changed into a sleeveless black T-shirt and gray pants spattered with flecks of yellow and green paint.

“Lemme get the two of you settled before breakfast.” He beckoned with the exposed metal of his left arm and started off down the hall.

Deirdre put her hand on Mistletoe’s shoulder. “Pyotr was right.”

Mistletoe shrugged her off and caught up with Sliv. “Is Nelson in one piece?”

“We fed it to the incinerator for kicks.”

“Just because you saved my life doesn’t mean I won’t choke you.”

Sliv pointed to a set of doors marked INTENSIVE CARE at the end of the hallway. “It’s in there.”

Mistletoe turned to face Deirdre, who was lagging a few steps behind. “Hey, can you give us a minute? We just want some time to catch up a little bit.” She took Sliv’s human hand and squeezed it tight, threading her fingers between his and pulling him close. He smelled like gasoline.

“Oh. I—I didn’t realize,” Deirdre said. “I’ll just go get settled.”

Mistletoe smiled. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Surgical ward’s around the corner,” Sliv said as Mistletoe pulled him toward intensive care. “There’s a shower and some beds. Take your pick.”

Mistletoe pushed open the swinging doors. Inside the room Sliv pulled her against him and locked his hands around her waist. She bounced on her toes long enough to give him a dry peck on the cheek, then wriggled out of his embrace.

“That’s for before,” she said. “With the cops.”

Sliv scratched the side of his chin, thinking. “So that was an act just now.”