Even as I came to this conclusion, I saw an unmarked airambulance fly from the 101’s garage, disappearing into the horizon. I couldn’t tell Daiyu what I knew, and I decided not to tell my friends, either. What would it help? I’d just add it to my growing collection of misdeeds and personal sins.

Maybe by the end of all this, I wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eye. Or maybe I’d do just that, and simply not care any longer.

•  •  •

The citadel was situated in the midst of run-down abandoned apartments and shuttered businesses. Only homeless, downtrodden meis came near the area—and even then, they remained hidden in the derelict hovels. It was a ten-story windowless five-sided structure made entirely of concrete, situated in a no-fly zone. That permit alone must have cost Jin a few million at least. The only way in on the ground floor, protected by thick steel doors, was manned by security guards 24/7. The rooftop was unguarded, except for a webwork of sensors protecting it.

Victor and I crouched under the shade of a gutted building. We had paid off the homeless meis who squatted there, giving them money every morning we had arrived, scoping out the citadel’s comings and goings. They took the money without a word. Some nodded wearily at us, not meeting our eyes. They were all filthy and disheveled, with that all-too-familiar hunger in their pinched faces. They left Victor and me alone after getting their daily payoff.

It was an unusually warm day in early February—humid, with thick brown smog blotting our anemic sun. Sweat gathered at the back of my neck, slid down between my shoulder blades. For once, I regretted wearing a black T-shirt and missed my temperature-controlled suit. Disgusted with myself, I drew a long breath of our polluted air, pungent with exhaust and the stench of urine. Then had to fight the urge to puke.

“What’s wrong with you?” Victor asked. He was dressed as sharp as ever, in a button-down short-sleeved white shirt, tucked neatly into dark gray pants.

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s been a week already. Are you sure about this?”

Victor peered at me over his designer Italian sunglasses. “The generators are maintained monthly. The tech’s due to return soon.”

Before he finished speaking, a white van pulled up outside the citadel. The characters for LU’S SERVICE AND SUPPLIES were stenciled in blue across the side. A man in his thirties wearing a navy cap jumped out from the driver’s side and slammed his car door shut. He hurried toward the double steel doors, then pulled out his wallet to flash an ID at the door monitor. A few moments later, a security guard from the citadel emerged, dressed in a nondescript gray uniform.

“See?” Victor grinned and cracked his knuckles.