“I think it might set off failsafes,” Cryptid said.

“Things were rushed,” I said. “They can’t get universities up and running, groups are underfunded, we’re just getting a working government. And you think they’ve built a perfect prison?”

“I think the stakes are high,” Cryptid replied. “Swansong probably wants to keep her legs. Precipice too, though he could probably do a prosthetic arm for a leg. And I’m betting our Lady in Blue doesn’t want the other guy to win. Screwing up would hand him that win. We can be better than that.”

“A good-enough prison, maybe?” I asked.

“Let’s anticipate everything,” he said.

“It’s hard to imagine you were being so unreasonable a few hours ago, and you’re Mr. Rational now.”

“I was reasonable and rational all along,” Cryptid retorted. To the screen, to Goddess, he said, “I’m confident I’m right here. This isn’t the way to do this. There are too many traps.”

Goddess didn’t respond. The silence stretched.

Cryptid was staring at the screen, chin up, headphones and headgear on, but masked with the projection plate that dressed up his body in weird shapes and shades. I could see his silhouette, slightly broken up, but I couldn’t see much of him.

Between Rain and Capricorn, Swansong was staring off into space. Was it a consequence of being on the other side of a computer screen, two steps removed? No—because Precipice was more or less normal.

She was fighting this—treading water. The inverse of Lookout.

Amy approached Goddess, and she spoke in a very low voice, inaudible.

Lookout glanced over her shoulder at us, then typed something out.

The audio distorted, then settled at a point it was audible. Nobody complained—I suspected because they all wanted to know.

Even my desire to know outweighed how little I wanted to hear Amy talk.

“—to do things better this time. You wanted people who weren’t yes men. I’m trying to be that, but I’m not good at it. I’m not a debater, I’m not quick. Cryptid’s team has information we don’t, and he says no.”

“We can hear you,” Cryptid said.

“Chri-ptid!” Lookout hissed.

“So don’t go talking about anything private,” he added.

“Is he trustworthy?” Goddess asked Amy.

“No,” Cryptid said. “No I’m not.”

“He’s reliable,” Amy said.

“Cryptid. You’ll come to me by the fastest means possible. Head to Bridgeport, the downtown crossroads, wait five minutes, then head East from there. Stop at landmarks. I will find you.” Goddess said. “We’ll compartmentalize, as you said. Individual cells. You’ll come with me and coordinate. Breakthrough? Work on the prison problem. I will be in touch. Acceptable?”