“Anja! Wake up!”
Anja’s eyes were blank and unfocused. “They’ve got her,” she said, her voice inexplicably calm, “I’m— Oh, shi—” She collapsed back into unconsciousness, as suddenly as if someone had flipped a switch. Marisa clutched her broken arm and huddled close to her friends, holding as still as they could. When the emergency nulis finally came for them, she sobbed in relief.
SIX
“Hello, this is Saif—”
“Shut up and listen to me, pendejo,” Marisa snarled over the phone line. “You told me Bluescreen was safe—you promised me—and then Anja practically—”
“Marisa! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“You almost got Anja killed with that stuff!”
“Is she okay?” asked Saif. His voice sounding concerned. “After you left the club—”
“After we left the club,” said Marisa, and touched her Jeon arm, probing the dents and ruptures with her fingers. It was completely unresponsive, and she worried that it was broken irreparably. “After we left the club Anja wasn’t just sleepwalking; she was sleepjumping in front of semis on the freeway.”
“What?”
“We barely caught her in time, and then spent the next three hours talking to every cop and doctor in the city—and thanks to you I had alcohol in my bloodstream, too, which made those conversations even better than I’d ever imagined. You’re a real gem, you know that?”
“It was one sip of schnapps—”
“If you were so damned concerned, why didn’t you come after us?” Marisa was fed up with him, too rich and oblivious to care about anyone but himself—she was fed up with everyone like him, with the whole damn system, and he was going to face the full force of her anger like the stream from a fire hose. “Why weren’t you out there dodging autocars on the 110? What kind of blowhole sits in a nightclub sipping a maldicho Candy Apple while we’re out getting plastadas por las camionetas en la calle?” She was so angry she could barely think in English anymore.
“Marisa,” said Saif, “you have to believe me—I had no idea about any of that. I didn’t follow you out of the club because I thought you were mad about whatsername, Francisca; I didn’t know Anja was on the freeway, or even sleepwalking again. Please tell me she’s okay now.”
Marisa touched her broken Jeon arm again. “Anja’s home,” she said sharply. “And you’re not going to sell to her anymore, okay? There is no amount of defensive tech in your pinche Daimyo to protect you from me.” Marisa was home as well, locked in her room and grounded by her parents, but that wouldn’t stop her from hunting him down.
“I promise you,” said Saif again, “I had no idea that Bluescreen could be dangerous. I’ve been using sensory interfaces for years—Synesthemes, Sensovids, even VR games—and I’ve never had a problem with any of them. My supplier swore to me that Bluescreen was the same thing. But after this . . . I don’t know. I’ve got a lot friends I have to warn.”
“You have to stop selling it,” said Marisa.
“Of course,” said Saif. “I just—” He paused, and his voice became softer. “I, um, I’m really glad you called me. I’m a little surprised, especially because we didn’t have time to exchange IDs, but . . . I’m glad.”
Marisa smiled, just slightly, not because he’d wanted to talk to her—she was still furious at him—but because she’d impressed him. “I scanned your ID at the club,” she said, “and then when I decided to yell at you I . . .” She paused, debating whether or not to tell him, but decided that impressing him a little more couldn’t hurt. “You get your djinni service through Johara, so I cracked their network and got your full contact info, and your usage records, and your . . . current location.” He was in an apartment near USC. A surprisingly cheap one, in fact, which Marisa wasn’t sure how to interpret. Maybe he was spending the night with some cheap bimbo from the club? She ran a quick check; the apartment was in his name.
“Whoa.” Saif laughed. “You can do that?”
“In seconds,” said Marisa, turning her boast into a threat. “Hurt Anja again and you will not be able to hide from me.”
Saif hesitated before speaking. “Listen, maybe you can help me, then.”
“After this? Not fracking likely.”
“If this stuff’s really this dangerous,” he said, “it’s not enough for just me to stop selling it. There are dealers all over the city. We have to get the word out to them as well.”
Marisa’s scowl disappeared, and she sat up straighter in her chair. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious, I just don’t know how to start. I can talk to my supplier, but there’s no way he’s going to put me in touch with his people, and what are the odds he and his bosses shut down their operation because one person had a bad trip? Tatti. . . . I thought I was just selling another djinni app, but this is a legit drug.”