“Whoa,” said Bao. “You okay?”
“I don’t know—” Anja’s arm twitched again, up and then out to the side. “I don’t—” Her leg twitched, so sharply she almost fell. She grabbed the nearest table for support.
Marisa stood up. “Anja, did you turn your djinni back off?”
“I’m trying,” said Anja, gritting her teeth. Her knuckles were turning white where she gripped the table. “I can’t . . .” Her teeth were clenched tightly together. “Move.”
“We have to cut her off from the net,” said Sahara. “Kill the connection—don’t worry about fighting the program, just kill the connection—”
“I’m trying,” said Anja again. A tear rolled down her cheek. “This isn’t like before—something’s different.”
“You couldn’t fight it before,” said Marisa, crossing to her. “You’re getting better at it—”
“It’s not a mind,” said Anja. “I can feel the difference. I’m not . . . it’s not another mind forcing me out. It’s an—” She went limp, staying on her feet, but with all the tension flowing out of her muscles in a rush. She straightened up, and her head swiveled, surveying the room.
And then she attacked.
TWENTY
Anja went after Sahara first, lashing out with her elbow and smashing her in the side of the head. As Sahara reeled back, both from the blow and the surprise, Anja leaped forward, pulling away from Marisa’s shocked grip to keep the pressure on Sahara, hitting her again in the head, keeping her unbalanced, and then, when the opportunity came, punching Sahara powerfully in the throat. Sahara staggered against a chair, tripping over it backward as she gasped for breath, and smacked her head against the floor. She was unconscious before the others could even react.
Marisa was next. Anja turned and ran back toward her, and Marisa put her arms up in front of her face just in time to block a flurry of blows. Anja’s fists slammed into Marisa’s forearms, shaking her entire body. Bao leaped in from the side, trying to grab Anja and pull her away, and Anja turned her attention to him, striking back viciously, driving him back against the wall. He was only trying to stop Anja from attacking; he wasn’t prepared to actually hit her back. Marisa tried to gather her thoughts, looking for a good course of action. Should she tackle her? Could the three of them hold her down without hurting her? Sahara was the only one in their group with any combat training, and she was already down.
“Anja!” Marisa shouted, but shook her head immediately. There was no sense trying to talk to her, as it wasn’t Anja doing it—it was someone controlling her, a Bluescreen puppet master. “Nils!” she said. “Or Lal! Stop this, please! Let her go, and let’s talk!” Anja didn’t even slow her assault, punching Bao until her knuckles bled. Marisa screamed: “Say something!”
Anja’s attacks were fierce, but raw; even Marisa could tell that whoever was controlling her wasn’t a real fighter, just a berserker trying to cause damage. Someone who could afford to swing too hard, to drop his defense too often, to leave himself open to injury because the body that got damaged could be discarded when he was done.
Bao dodged the next punch, and Anja’s fist hit the screen behind him, so hard Marisa thought she could hear the hand break. The screen cracked and the image disappeared.
“Lal!” Marisa screamed. “You’re going to kill her.”
Whoever was controlling Anja didn’t give any sign that they had heard her . . . but Anja had said it didn’t feel like it had before. She’d felt something trying to take over, and she could tell it was somehow different from a human controller. What else was there? An AI? True AI didn’t exist—nuli control programs, sure, but nothing that could think. Marisa shook her head. This was something simpler, something rudimentary. Something that could carry out a single command: attack.
Anja had been taken over by an algorithm.
“What’s happening?” said Saif. His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open in terror.
“Help me stop her,” Marisa said, and dove back into the fight, grabbing Anja from behind, wrapping her arms around her to hold her still. Anja responded by slamming her head backward, smashing Marisa’s face. Marisa lost her grip and staggered back, then launched herself forward again, too dazed to see clearly, knowing she had to move fast before Anja had a chance to move away. She caught her again, lower this time, and held on tight while Anja pummeled her mercilessly with her elbows. Marisa felt Anja’s weight shift suddenly, and Bao shouted.
“I’ve got her legs,” he said. “Drop her!”
Marisa let go, and Anja fell backward, landing heavily on her back. She groaned, a sound more painful than Marisa had ever heard, and Marisa backed away in horror at what she’d just done to her friend.
Anja slowly climbed back to her feet.
“Grab her again,” said Bao, diving forward.