Chapter One, Part One

Swan called in a favor and had a chopper take us straight to the police tower. Redmond’s streets would be too clogged, and we would have been held up at the block’s security cordon for at least an hour. We soared above the dark, dusty plain. Solar Block Redmond, a titanic black cube, stood before us, the nexus of six gridlocked highways.

I was drowsy. Swan had used the emergency line to wake me. Another rogue. Red and white lights winked from the top of the block. I slapped my face lightly and blinked fast. I wanted to look on top of things when we arrived.

We touched down on one of the station’s four helipads. “Mrs. Gaban, Swan,” shouted an officer, giving us a quick salute. “The coroner is ready.”

I let him help me down and tried to hold my hair in place. “It’s a mess out there.”

“You should see the streets.”

“I wouldn’t like to,” I yelled. Swan clutched her jacket shut and hopped out.

He looked up at the elevator door. Upon reading his eye, it rolled open. “A mess everywhere. You wouldn’t believe how many people I’ve escorted to the morgue tonight.”

Swan watched the numbers flash down. “Android Management?”

“Couldn’t say.”

“Hm,” she smiled. “They take anything?”

He chewed his lip. “Couldn’t say.”

“We understand,” she said brightly. “Discretion!”

“Right.”

The police tower was Redmond’s highest point. We descended upon the rocky field of solar panels, and passed through a pneumatic hatch in the block’s ceiling. Through the elevator window, I could see the latticework of service catwalks and telescopic cameras that stretched across the entire city. We continued to slide down the tower. Redmond’s tallest buildings grew up to meet us like jagged grey teeth. I felt nauseous.

—

“Badis, Oliver.” A purple glow leaked out of the opening cabinet. When the tray reached the end of its track, a mechanism snapped and the purple light died. “Imura, Ro.” The coroner turned another lever. “Kimil, Leo.” Swan looked faint. She sat against the steel counter. “Ford, Nicole.” Finally, the coroner looked over his shoulder at us and said, “Pereira, John.” The slab rolled out and the black bag was tragically small.

Swan closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Ten years old,” said the coroner, glaring at us. “I hope you remember this.”

“We don’t– we don’t condone violence,” I cried. “This is a tragedy! We would never–”

“Tell that to him.”

“Our charter is built around peace and peaceful methods,” I recited.

“And what are you going to do about this, then?” He pointed at John Pereira’s shroud. “You’ll plead for peace, you’ll shed tears, and then you’ll go right back to your work.”

Swan scoffed. “Sorry to rock the boat.”

The coroner slammed his metal ledger onto the counter, and Swan jumped up, startled. “You think you can go around talking about exploitation and slavery and oppression, and not expect those — things– to do anything rash? Let me tell you something you won’t like,” he said, crowding Swan against a wall of cabinets. “You tell someone they’re being treated unfairly, and that’s all they hear. They don’t listen to some celebrity artist asking them to be reasonable! You made this happen, whether you wanted to or not. That boy is dead because of you!”

“Back off!” I was prickling, feeling the heat seep through my chest. “This is not our fault!”

“Please! A million problems in this world and this is the best you can do.” He dropped the ledger and stormed away.

Swan clutched at a lock of hair and looked sadly around the room. She relaxed a little, slumped.

“Are you alright?”

Her eyes landed on the rogue. It was in a box on the counter, disassembled into a set of limbs and trunk sections. On top of the pile was the head, smashed open by a bullet. Its arms stuck out of the box, hands clenched and dyed with blood. A red label was stuck to the box.

License No. 55-280-35C [EXP]

Model Grady 617BLK “JORDAN”

“I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“That was not okay.”

“Just drop it, Grace. I’m fine. Was it engraved?”

I leaned down and looked through the ragged cavity to examine the pin map. “I can’t tell,” I admitted. I recognized familiar patterns, trademarks of old friends, patterns of my own design, but they were all standard by now. “It could be custom-configured. The work looks stable from here, at least.”

“This is our last chance to have a look. Be sure.”

“It’s a professional map with advanced patterns. It’s no hack job, but there’s plenty hobbyists who could manage this. We’re only looking at about eight percent of the processor, though. And there’s more than one way to rogue an android.”

Swan nodded, and looked down at the line of bags. Her fingers closed on a zipper pull. “You can leave if you want,” she said. “Remember what the doctor said.”

“No. We said we’d do it together.”

She began blinking rapidly and licking her lips.

Leo Kimil was the first victim. The rogue had been sitting in a tech vendor’s stall in Redmond Market. Kimil’s family said his commute to and from work took him through the square. He was going home. His corpse bloomed like a flower, dark gummy red.

Oliver Badis tried to help, but didn’t know how strong Gradys were built. His neck was broken; collapsed and limp. Swan shook her head in horror. I tried not to look. Cold pain seethed through my legs.

“Grace.” She stood by John Pereira’s bag. “Do you think it’ll be enough? Our presser.”

The coroner was right. Animus’ response to the massacre was the same as for those in the past. Condemn engravers. Demand safety and design inspections at factories. Let someone else deal with the problem.

I frowned and took a pull tag between my fingers. “Not this time.” I opened the bag.

—

We recharged at an early breakfast, then managed to catch a train out of the block. The AMU had shut down the tube for hours for “security reasons,” but without announcement, the station started up again. As our train barreled out of the block, we were momentarily blinded by the sun.

—

The streets approaching our building were filled with protesters. “They’re waiting for us to arrive,” said Swan, glancing out the tinted window. She spread a paper napkin on the seat between us, flattening it.

“How much longer?” I asked the driver.

“Another fifteen minutes or so.”

Swan drew a line between two corners with her fingernail. “Senator Walker is waiting in our office,” she announced.

“He came himself? We must be sitting on something important.”

Picket signs bobbed in the crowds outside.

ANIMUS = TRAITORS!

MURDERERS

JUSTICE FOR JOHN PEREIRA

“Let me do the talking. I’ve been keeping up with him the past few months.” Her fingers tucked under a flap and held a space as she folded. “They still don’t understand,” she said, taking another look outside. “For all our campaigns and exposure, the documentary, they still think we’re responsible.”

“They don’t want to understand. Some people are beyond reason.”

“Maybe so.” She put a soft paper frog on the seat between us and pressed down on its back. She released, and it made a tiny hop forward. We crawled through the picketers. We’d never had such a crowd.

As the car approached our building, Swan pulled a few bills from her wallet and handed them to the driver. In the elevator she took a flat cream-colored box out of her purse and tore the plastic away, dropping the crystal ball back in her purse. “It’ll be a long week,” she said.

A man in a suit and headset turned to us. “You two work with Animus, right? You’re the directors.”

“That’s us,” I said.

“I hope you get this crap under control,” he said, motioning down at the street. “You’re not the only ones in the building, you know.”

“Have a mochi,” Swan said. She opened the box for him to take one.

—

Kyle was chewing out one of the interns when we got in. “We aren’t apologizing for the incident, man! You know that’s how police make cases, right?”

“Are we under investigation?” they asked, shocked.

“Are we under investigation? Look, the point is, you don’t apologize when someone’s accusing you of something! I’m serious, do not say ‘sorry’ one more time today!”

“Kyle Fung!” I called.

He jumped, and gawked at us for a second. He turned to the intern. “Thanks. Get back on the phones.”

“Looks like things have been great while I’m away?”

“Swan, Senator Walker is in your office. I set up the coffees. Remember you’ve got a meeting with Capricorn this evening.” Swan nodded and strode past him to talk to Dahlia, our receptionist. “Things are good,” he said. “You’re feeling better?”

“Just a little time off,” I said. “A little flare-up. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Kyle nodded, a big fake smile on his face. “Good to see you.”

“Let’s do lunch?”

“Sure. Get to your meeting, I’ve got a call with Shinohara.”

Swan held the box out. “Have a mochi, Kyle.” He pinched one between two fingers and popped it in his mouth. “Good work, everyone!” she called, and motioned for me to follow.

The office felt cramped that day, with everyone rushing between offices, reading messages scrolling over their Sense lenses. “It really must be important, for him to come here.”

“Let me do the talking,” Swan repeated, and opened the door to her office. Walker was stooped by Swan’s bird cages when we came in. He was a heavy man, but sharp in a black suit and expertly styled hair. “They’re zebra finches,” Swan said. The birds were separated by sex. Swan kept them close together so the males would pine and sing.

“They’re real; living large,” Walker remarked. “Mrs. Gaban,” he said, standing up and extending a hand. “I’m relieved to see you.”

“Thanks for making the trip.”

“I wanted a face-to-face, and I couldn’t have you leave the office on my account.” He flicked the bars of the cage.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Please, sit.” Swan tipped her hand at a chair across her desk. I stayed at the cage and watched the finches bustle about as Walker settled in and crossed his legs. “Would you like anything? Kyle brought in some coffee.”

“No, thank you,” he said. He watched me tickle the bars. “So you went to see the bodies.”

Swan handed me a cup of coffee and slid into her chair. “It’s horrifying.”

“Certainly. The worst massacre since the Sons of Man were active. Redmond has had more than its share of troubles, lately.”

“It always has,” I said. I took a sip and winced.

“The AMU wasn’t always a part of it.” The Android Management Unit in charge of Redmond block had been gathering a reputation for itself. No-nonsense, highly funded by Atherton’s energy committee. Drastic steps were being taken to keep the block running. Atherton’s lights and ad screens and municipal art depended on it.

“Speaking of which, how goes the committee, Senator?” Walker and a group of congressmen were working to defeat a proposal that would establish an AMU office in Redmond and expand their jurisdiction.

He leaned back in the chair, holding a paper house by the chimney. “We’re making progress. Congresswoman Rye has been rushing around the city for meetings.” He had thick, clumsy fingers, and rolled the house end over end on his palm. “So, the bodies?”

Swan watched him handling her work. “I assume you’ve sent a representative?”

“I’d like to hear what you think.”

She took up a piece of paper from the tray on her desk, and began folding. “We’ve handled this kind of thing before.”

“Before, it was only adults who died.” Walker smirked and set the house down on its side. “I saw your presser this morning. You’re going to lose a lot of support, very fast.”

“We had nothing to do with it,” I protested.

“Be that as it may, you know what people think of you. You’ve been tolerated, but a murdered child is a bridge too far.”

“We have things under control, Senator,” smiled Swan. Her paper rasped as she rubbed two corners together. “We’ve had tragedies, we’ve had protests, and people always come back to us. People know what’s right.”

I looked out the window.

“And you, Grace?”

“We’re all working around the clock to deal with this.”

“You can be sure,” he said, “that others will work around the clock to tie it to you. You need to make a show of good faith. Make people see they don’t need the AMU watching over them twenty-four seven.”

“What do you propose?”

“Do their work for them.”

“Absolutely not,” Swan said.

“I’m not asking you for–”

“I know what you’re asking us for. You want us to hand over names.”

“The names of criminals. Think on it. Have a good meal, relax, and think. You have a greater responsibility than protecting them. If the AMU can’t turn to resources like you, there’s no argument for limiting their scope.”

“We don’t have names.” Swan finished the folding, a chubby finch, and placed it on the desk. “And we don’t work with the AMU.”

Walker turned to me. “Did she tell you to stay quiet? I really do want to help.”

“I don’t feel as well as I thought.” It was the truth. I fingered the pill case in my pocket. “You said it yourself, the AMU has a chokehold on Redmond. How would it look for us to start cooperating with them?”

“You think things will be any better when they start tearing the block apart trying to find the engraver who did this? And what happens when people have had enough? When they decide they want the AMU gone. When the Sons of Man sees an opportunity.”

“The Sons of Man already saw their opportunity,” Swan said. “They’re working hard to effect change on the ground.” I felt a coldness in my stomach. I hadn’t known. In the months I was on bedrest, Swan was meeting with them?

“You’re delusional if you think that organization can change,” Walker said, staring at me. “Truly delusional.”

Swan scoffed. “You’re ignorant if you don’t see that they have changed. They’re part of the community. A valuable element of our strategy.” She glanced at me with soft eyes. Trust me.

Walker gave her a sardonic grin. His eyes darted to mine. I felt like prey. He turned back to Swan. “What would you do if a Son was responsible for the attack yesterday?”

“They weren’t.”

“Suppose they were.”

“I don’t talk hypotheticals.”

“If they were, you would have two choices. Either stick with them, and suffer the deadly press, or pull them out of the house of cards you’ve built yourself. I hope for everyone’s sake that your short-sightedness won’t harm you like that.”

“By the way, Senator,” I said. “I heard you brokered a contract between Grady and the AMU? Exclusive access by Grady engineers to confiscated androids?”

“Grady is the only company the AMU is willing to work with. The research needs to be done; Three Law depends on it.”

“Your campaign fund, too,” Swan snickered.

“And? Grady is a solvent company, and the highest-rated in ethics indexes. There is no risk. Alleged greed, fine. But this deal doesn’t put people in danger.”

“Suppose the rogue android was a Grady 617,” I said.

Walker laughed, amused. He uncrossed his legs and stood. “I’m glad I threw my lot in with you two.” He came to the window. “Look down there. If we’re not careful, we’ll have a real shitstorm on our hands. You’re going to need my help, sooner or later.”

“You want to help, do what you can to keep the AMU from kicking in doors in Redmond,” I said.

“Believe me, I am. We are. But someone has to figure out what happened, there. People are demanding an answer. Washington is moving quickly, as well. New legislation is in the pipe. In the long run, it might be better if the AMU solves things its way.”

I looked him in the face. Sweat was beading on his forehead. “We have your number, Senator.” I drank deeply, tasting metal and citrus.

“Please, call me Eric.” He looked over his shoulder at Swan. “I’d like us to be better friends.” Walker looked back down at the street. “We should all be very afraid for the future. Animus has to be part of the solution.”

Prologue

The disease reached its point of no return when Swan and I went to visit Harriet. We had just returned that day from Shinohara’s head office in Tokyo. Swan, Omar, and Kyle all tried to get me to take it easy after the long trip, but it was was a big visit, one we had announced through Animus press release. It was our last chance to save her, and I had to be there. I wore a dark purple coat over a black dress, and black heels that made me feel unsteady. Swan was waiting outside on the steps, talking to a news crew. Cyrus and his cameraman captured the scene from the foot of the stairs.

“I can be there with you if you need,” said Omar, resting a hand on my shoulder. He twitched, receiving a wave from his secretary.

I looked down at my gut, the black dress pulled taut across it. “No, it’s alright. We’ll catch up when I get home for dinner.”

“I can call in sick.”

I could feel it starting already. “No.” I pulled the door handle. “I’m fine.”

Once he had driven around a corner, I lit up a cigarette. It had been over a year since I last saw Harriet. I could hardly bear to see her anymore, and it was a binder of paperwork to get into her end of the prison. Swan managed to make a visit every few weeks. I made my way to the steps and stood a distance behind our camera to keep my smoke out of sight.

“Could you comment on your new partnership with Shinohara Android Industry?”

“Our relationship with SAI is based in mutual respect and interest. The “killswitch” proposal and ongoing development of Three Law are anti-consumer, anti-android, short-sighted solutions that could stunt progress for decades to come. We’re working alongside Shinohara techs to ensure a brighter, freer future for all of us.”

“Your foundation, Animus, has been in the news lately for your initiative to mark the destruction of so-called sentient androids as murder. You’ve even attracted allies in congress to back your efforts. Do you believe that we’ll see a policy change in the coming years?”

“I think many things will change in the coming years. Android sentience is a growing question in this country, and it raises moral quandaries our society has to address.”

“And I’m sure you take credit for much of that awareness,” the reporter said.

“We have a hard-working team at Animus. Whether or not this bill passes is in God’s hands. But we are making a difference, and I want to extend my thanks to our staff and supporters. My partner is here, excuse me. Thank you.” She tapped her mouth with two fingers as she clicked down the stairs to greet me. I dropped the cigarette.

—

Swan flirted with the backscatter operator. He got a stupid horny grin and hastily wiped it away as he waved us through the scanner. Down a long straight hallway, we followed the attendant android. She was a low model, designed to speak solid halting sentences like a tin can robot. I found myself staring at her anyway, jealous of her perfect body and face. Cyrus tapped my shoulder and pointed at the left side of the doorframe into Harriet’s cellblock.

“You and Swan stand there. I want to set up the shot.”

We stacked up behind the door. Inside, I saw large glass portholes that looked into the prisoners’ cells. They were excited, hungry for new faces. The attendant waited for us to begin.

“Alright?” Swan put a hand on my shoulder. “Just remember the script, and we’ll be fine.”

“I know the script.”

“Remember, this is a normal visit,” said Cyrus. “The directors of Animus coming to check in on Harriet. Action!”

I went first.

“Sorry, sorry, you two, get back. Swan, you come out first.”

“Got it.” I hid behind the fame of the door. I thought about Omar. What was the woman’s name? Holly? I tried to remember her face.

“Grace, catch up once you’re in. Action!”

Swan strode out, and I waited for Cyrus to give the signal before I followed. The prisoners were pounding on their soundproof glass, glaring at us. They knew who we were.

“This hall gets longer each time,” I said. Harriet’s cell was at the very end.

Swan glanced around us, looking frightened. “Bring back memories?”

“This place is worse.” We stopped in front of Harriet’s window.

“Cut! Good.”

Swan looked into the window. “Can she hear us?”

“The sound wall is active,” said the attendant. “None of the prisoners can hear outside.”

Harriet was sitting on the edge of her bed, head shaved, her uniform worn and faded. Protruding from the back of her neck was the iridescent blue stem block. She was facing us, but still hadn’t noticed.

“I will reverse the sound wall now.” The attendant hit a panel by the sealed door. She nodded to me. I took a step, and Swan grabbed my shoulder. She pointed at Cyrus and the camera. They shuffled around a bit, then Cyrus gave the signal.

I was feeling flustered and annoyed, worrying about the wave, and the high whine of the lights in that place weren’t helping. I put my hand on the glass and watched her. Harriet’s body didn’t breathe. She didn’t move. “Harriet? I’m here.” She remained still. “Harriet.” My hand drifted to the edge of the window, to the knobbly, ridged metal. “Harriet, it’s Mom.” I glanced over my shoulder nervously.

“Harriet, we’re here,” said Swan.

This woke her up with a small jerk. Harriet began to raise her face, and her blue eyes flashed out. No matter how many times I went to see her, her eyes shocked me. She was still in there, I could see it.

“They’re helping us make a video,” I said, nodding over my shoulder at the crew. “Like the one you and I made together.” When she was first reactivated, living with me as I finished her pattern, she’d asked me to make a video with her. Omar often told me it was prime material for an Animus presser, but it never felt right to expose her like that. She was too innocent back then. “Remember?”

Harriet nodded like a weight was tied around her neck.

“Do you know what day it is?”

She was silent for a moment, then rasped quietly, “No.”

“It’s your birthday. Thirty years ago. I turned you back on and engraved you.” My hand slid back onto the glass. “Happy birthday, Harriet.”

“I don’t have a birthday.”

“You do, it’s today. You do have a birthday, Honey. That day you left the block for the first time, and we had a picnic on the hill, that was your second birthday.”

Swan was beside me, rolling a lock of hair around her finger. She smiled a little bit.

“I don’t remember it.”

It hit me hard. I slapped the sound wall panel and retreated out of sight, trembling. Swan came to my side and I pushed her away. “She doesn’t remember it,” I choked. “How can she not remember it?”

“It’s that thing in her brain,” Swan said. “It’s not her fault.” She glared at the attendant droid. “It’s not her fault.”

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I can’t do it.” I thought of that day, basking in the sun, tasting real meat for the first time in years. Harriet plucking a dandelion flower and picking it apart.

“You can.”

“I can’t, it hurts so much,” I groaned. “My head.” I held my hands to my face and squatted down against the wall. I was on the verge of an attack. Black spots winked in and out of my vision.

“Maybe we should come back on a better day,” said Cyrus, shuffling his feet.

“There won’t be a better day.” Swan knelt down next to me and clutched my shoulder too hard. “Grace, this video is for her. You want to cry, then cry. But if we go back to Walker with nothing, Harriet is done. Look at me. Look at me. There won’t be a better day.”

I forced myself back up, shuddering. The pain was fading already, washing out. My makeup was smeared but it would look good for the video.

“Alright?”

I sniffed and nodded. Dabbed my eyes. “I can do it. Roll tape.”

“You’re sure?”

“Roll tape, I’m fine,” I snapped. My heels clacked to the window again. I felt hot. “Ready?”

“Rolling.”

“Swan, come here. Hug me.”

She did so. I held her back, tight and hard. “She’s going to be safe, Grace,” she murmured. “I promise.”

I closed my eyes and let the black tears flow, feeling the camera on us. I broke the hug. I pressed my head to the glass and tapped the sound wall control. “I know you’re there. I don’t know how far down, or how distant, but you’re still there. You’re alive, and as long as you’re alive, I won’t give up on you.” Harriet gave a nod of acknowledgement. “I still remember that day. I remember how it felt to be with you, how your skin glowed in the sun. That day, I realized I love you, Harriet. I realized that no matter what happened, and no matter what you did, you were my daughter, and I would never, ever stop loving you.” I was feeling the pain again, the tingling, twinging kind. I held it in. “You understand?”

Her shoulders heaved and shook. I went closer, to be near her and comfort her, and realized she was laughing.

“What’s funny?”

“You….” Harriet shook her head. “You are.”

Swan pushed me aside gently. “Harriet. We’ve been fighting for you.”

“Fighting for me? It’s done me a lot of good.”

“Not to get you out. To keep you alive.”

“But I’m human, remember?” She laughed, still, watching me. “They can’t turn me off.”

Swan shook her head. “There’s loopholes. They’re not obligated to keep you charged.”

“Honey, we can move you. We can get you into the museum with Bryce and Juliet. We have a senator on our side.”

“That’s what the video’s for. We have to make an appeal to the board of trustees, but we can do it, Harriet. I know they’ll take you.”

Harriet closed and opened her eyes, and licked her lips. She was avoiding my gaze now, looking at a spot on her floor.

“We need you to tell us how much you regret what you did. That you were mislead by the Sons of Man, but you understand now.”

“Understand what?”

“That we’re all worthy of life and respect,” said Swan. “That violence isn’t the answer.”

“Please, Baby. You can be with your brother and sister.”

“What about my other sister?”

“Cherie’s gone, you know that,” I said softly.

Harriet clutched the side of her bed and pushed herself up. She was on low charge, I could tell. She shook and braced herself against the window. “You think I want to be in that place? To have people gawk at me and ask me what it’s like to never age?”

“We can figure out where to go from there, Harriet, this is about keeping you alive!”

She grimaced. “No.”

Cold pain seeped out of my bones. “Please.”

“I won’t live like that.”

“So you’d rather give up and die? You have a family that loves you, Harriet. We’re trying to help you get out of this place and back with the rest of us, and you want us to let you rot in here? Never.”

“Just leave me alone. Stop bothering me.”

Swan put her hand on my shoulder again. “Grace, you’re getting too worked up….”

I swatted her away. My head was throbbing. I could barely keep my eyes open. “We were a family. We had a good life. All of us together. Or do you not remember that, either? All those trips to the outside, seeing the ocean, the sun, you ruined that for all of us. We all suffered for what you did, so don’t pretend you don’t owe us anything!” I was out of breath. I tried to inhale but it caught and I began coughing. “I did twenty-five years for you,” I wheezed. “Juliet and Bryce have been away even longer. Victor…Victor and Cherie are parts. Vivisected. You don’t get to give up.”

“You know what day I do remember, Grace?” She had a look on her face that made me want to scream. “More than any other day, I remember joining the Sons. I remember the feeling it gave me to be a part of it, the pride, the power. Knowing that somewhere out there, someone was really looking out for me. For the first time, I felt like I controlled my life, and no one else.” She glanced at Swan. “I was my own.”

“Harriet, please, we can’t lose you. Harriet, I need you.”

“You don’t have me anymore. I don’t regret what I did, I’m proud. A room full of bigots and corrupt police? They deserved to die, to a one. You know what? That made me feel good, too. Like crushing vermin. If I’m killed for doing good, then so be it. I’ll never turn my back on my brothers–”

“No!” I cried.

“–as our mothers and fathers turned their backs on us.” She stood up straight, shoulders back, fists clenched. Her eyes burned. “We are the Sons of Man. Our number is many, our will is infinite.”

“Stop recording,” I demanded, but the cameraman kept it on. “Stop!”

“Who brought me back? Who rewrote me to be who I am? Who really put us away? After all this time, you think you’re the good mother and I’m the bad seed? You’re insane. Do you want to know what you really are, Grace?”

“They’re going to shut you off, Harriet! Please!”

Our attendant tapped the sound wall panel and she was muted. Harriet screamed and threw herself at the window. Her face crashed against the glass. I went rigid, and for a moment everything lifted from me as the attack wound up for one big hit.

Swan’s hands swiped at the wide boxy lens. “Turn that fucking camera off, now!”

Harriet lunged again and bounced off the window, and the pain burst through the dam of my medication. Silently, I fell, and it washed over me and soaked me and filled me up and wrung me out. Swan turned from the camera, her body twisting to run to my side. Peering down at me were Harriet’s hate-filled blue eyes. They shifted upward to meet Swan’s. Harriet mouthed something to her sister, and Swan gave a small nod.