She says she didn’t, sent Marisa. She read the article again—no revealing details, just standard Foundation ranting about the evils of human augmentation. Maybe they don’t know about Bluescreen at all, she wrote. Maybe it’s just a coincidence? The Foundation hates djinnis—they talk crap about them every day. They’re bound to get it right every once in a while.
Anja paused a long time before responding again. Does it mean something that eLiza was studying djinni software? She was literally majoring in what killed her—most people can’t say that unless they’re getting a degree in nuclear fusion. Or bears.
That’s probably why she noticed it, sent Marisa. She saw the code, and could tell it was wonky because she knew enough about djinnis to see it for what it was.
No one in the Foundation would just stumble across the code like that, sent Anja. Plus, it doesn’t look like they mention Bluescreen in their protests. If they knew where the code was coming from, wouldn’t they have used it as an opportunity to link djinnis with drugs?
No, because it doesn’t feed their story, sent Marisa. If eLiza was killed by victims of a mind-control virus, the bad guy is the virus. If they leave out that detail and just say she was killed by people with messed-up djinnis—which is technically true, just incomplete—then the bad guy is the djinni. She looked at her window, still covered with blackout curtains. What was out there, hiding in the city? She looked back at her screen. You’re right about them not finding the code themselves, though. If they know about Bluescreen, it’s because somebody told them. She opened a new browser window and started another fake server trail, hiding her connection even more fiercely than before. I need to talk to Grendel again.
Without a djinni? You think he’ll meet you outside of NeverMind?
I guess we’ll find out.
Play crazy, said Anja.
Marisa forced a smile, and logged in to Lemnisca.te.
Cantina>>Forum>>General
Heartbeat: Dolly Girls
Heartbeat: I need to talk again. NeverMind not an option.
She posted the message, and sat back to wait. Grendel was too careful for her to approach him directly: if she put his name on the post he might never respond at all, to maintain his anonymity. She had to hope he had some kind of alert system, though, that told him when someone was talking about Dolly Girls.
On the other hand, posting about Dolly Girls so blatantly might be dangerous, especially with eLiza killed for looking into the mind-control code. But it was a chance Marisa was willing to—
WhiteStones: A lot of people having problems with their djinnis these days.
Marisa stared at the message. When she’d been in NeverMind there’d been a bowl of white stones on the table; her mind had put them there, and Grendel had said he was impressed. This had to be him, hiding behind a throwaway username. She sat up straight, composing her thoughts; she didn’t know how long he’d stay in the message board. She had to be fast.
Heartbeat: Who else have you talked to?
WhiteStones: Why do you ask?
Heartbeat: Somebody knows. If you told them, that answers a lot of questions, but if you didn’t, there’s another player in the game.
She waited, holding her breath. What would he say? Would he say anything at all? Did he even know what she was talking about? The cursor blinked on the screen, never moving, on and off, on and off, on and—
WhiteStones: You’ve impressed me again. Not many people do.
WhiteStones: I tipped off the Foundation myself.
Marisa’s fingers flew across the keyboard, trying to keep her words coherent as her thoughts went flying in every direction. She wrote and deleted a half dozen responses, some demanding more info, some theorizing, but all too pushy, all too wrong. He’d only answer if she asked the right question, and finally she wrote simply:
Heartbeat: Why?
She waited for hours, but when the sun came up, he still hadn’t answered.
FOURTEEN
“Despiertate, mija, it’s time to get up.”
Marisa opened her eyes a tiny sliver, only to squeeze them shut again at the sudden burst of light. Her mother had turned on her lights and thrown open the curtains, and was now bustling through the room, picking things up as she went.
She’s worse than a nuli, Marisa thought. She threw her arm over her eyes and croaked a retort: “I’m grounded, remember? I’m staying in bed all day.”
“We’ve changed the parameters of your grounding,” said Guadalupe. “You’re helping us in the restaurant today.”
“Ay, Mami.”
“Get up.” Guadalupe had crossed to the closet, and Marisa could hear her rattling through the hangers. “Here’s your San Juanito shirt, all clean and ready to go.”
“Papi grounded me to my room, you can’t just change it.”
“I don’t think you understand how authority works,” said Guadalupe, and kissed her on the forehead. Marisa rolled over. “Now come on, vámonos. The other kids are all asleep, so the shower’s free. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”
“No human being can shower in fifteen minutes,” said Marisa. “It’s quantifiably impossible.”