Officer Oloyu is still waiting for a response. “A little,” I manage.
“Do you know what they traffic in more than anything else?”
My breath hitches. “Not really.” I’ve never had any dealings with them. I go to work. I come home. I live my life as a law-abiding citizen of San Francisco.
“They traffic in dreams. More specifically, the information from dreams.”
“Zeal?” I ask, confused. Sudice own that. I’ve only plugged into Zeal a few times. It did nothing for me.
“No. Something new. Something different. The next step beyond Zeal. Have you heard of Verve?” He watches me.
I look at him blankly. “Never.” What would the next step beyond Zeal be? Zeal enacts fantasies, becoming catharsis for pent-up emotions. People start doing it in their early teens, and it’s often a lifelong habit. After they let off steam and come out from their fantasies, the aftereffects are soporific. Any anger or violent urges are suppressed, and if they build up again, the craving for another visit to a Zeal lounge kicks in. Tila and I arrived in San Francisco several years after those our age were hooked, and we never fell into it as much as the others. It’s integrated into therapy, into brainloading information. Most people use Zeal every day, in one form or another.
He hesitates, searching my face for signs of falsehood. I fight the urge to squirm.
“There are two reasons Verve is bad news. First, unlike Zeal, there is no comedown. If you enact a violent fantasy, then when you come out, you don’t feel sated. If anything, a desire for violence is heightened. If it were widespread, we’d see a very clear upswing in crime. Second, Verve is a way for the Ratel to mine dreams for information. It’s like a virus. Once you take it, it locks into your implants. Until the half-life leaves their system, the Ratel can watch what they see, hear what they hear, and even spy on their dreams.”
I don’t respond right away. This doesn’t sound possible. That’s advanced technology, and if Sudice or the government haven’t already done this, then how have the Ratel? Unless … perhaps they stole it from them? It’s not like Officer Oloyu would ever admit something like that happened, not to me.
He’s still waiting for me to say something. “OK. That’s fascinating, but what does it have to do with me?”
“You and your sister are from Mana’s Hearth.”
My stomach tightens, and my knees start shaking again. I clench them together, digging my fingertips into my thighs. “Yes. So?”
“Well.” He leans back in his chair, considering me again. “Lucid dreamers are immune to being influenced by Verve. They could pump you full of the stuff, and not be able to look through your eyes or listen through your ears.”
My breath stops. How could he know about that? “What makes you think I’m a lucid dreamer?”
“Because anyone who leaves Mana’s Hearth is.”
“Not enough people leave the Hearth for you to confidently make that hypothesis.” My science is showing.
“There’s enough. And let me guess—you rarely go to Zeal lounges.”
“So? Plenty of people don’t.”
“The drug does nothing for you. Never has. You don’t wake up feeling your anger has bled from you, or elated by whatever fantasy you had. Why take the drug when you can lucid dream each night?”
I shrug noncommittally.
“Your skills can help us.”
He pauses again. My tongue feels glued to the roof of my mouth.
“You really didn’t know what your sister was doing, did you?” Officer Oloyu asks. He sounds almost sorry for me. My anger flares again, but I clamp it down. I want to understand, and yelling at a police officer won’t help me. I hate that he’s seen how in the dark I am.
“This murder at Zenith isn’t a crime of passion,” Officer Oloyu says.
“My sister didn’t murder anyone.” Although if they’re right, and Tila’s been keeping secrets from me, how would I even know?
“Maybe she murdered this Vuk, maybe she didn’t.”
I say nothing.
“I am cleared to tell you a little more about him, if you’re curious?” He smiles, not waiting for an answer. “He was a representative for an anonymous philanthropist. Or that’s who he claimed to be. But we’ve exposed that for a pack of lies. The cover allowed him entrance to many places he wouldn’t otherwise have been permitted. Fundraisers. Exclusive parties. The Zeal room at Zenith.”
I look up, searching his face, but I can’t read him.
“Vuk wasn’t an innocent client, just another regular of the club. He was part of something darker. He was a member of the Ratel. We think perhaps he was trying to replace the Zeal in the back room with Verve. Lots of important people come to that club. If the Ratel could get into their heads … think of the secrets they could find, and how lucrative that could be for them.”