Working in a cramped corner of the shielded room was exhausting. Nigel and Jet shared a space meant for one.

“I have found a place for Brody to perform his examination,” Melissa said.

It’s about time.

Nigel looked up. He had been working for days with minimal breaks. The hotel suite Melissa had provided was more than adequate, but Nigel found it more productive working with everyone in proximity. Melissa had supplied Nigel with a new laptop more powerful than his old one; he could compile code, decompile, and reverse engineer other code at the same time: something he could ever have done with his old laptop.

“I was going through the scans Brody provided. Both Treeka and Meeka have embedded control code fragments,” Nigel said.

“What does that mean?” Melissa asked.

“That someone could control them like strings on a puppet. We have to assume they can be tracked as well,” Jet said.

“That’s why I insisted the room be shielded,” Brody said as he strode into the room.

How does a geneticist know about that? Nigel wondered. There’s something about this guy I don’t trust.

“There is no way we can access the information directly on the chip without a proper neural interface. There is one on the back of Treeka’s head, near the base of the spine. But the problem is we don’t have a suitable connector to interface with her. Plus, I have no idea what her bootstrapper would look like,” Nigel said.

“Boot what?” Melissa asked, confused.

“Sorry, I’ll explain, “Nigel said. “A bootstrapper is an interface that allows the computer to load an operating system. When you turn on any computer, you usually see some text, and then you are presented with a login prompt.”

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“Nigel, if you could construct a connector, I can help with the neural interface,” Brody said.

“Yes, I think that would work. I need access to a maker lab. I should be able to build one. I’ll draw up my specifications, then find the nearest maker lab.”

“What’s a maker lab?” Melissa asked.

“It’s a special workshop that will allow me to build the connector. Have you heard of 3D printing? It’s like that, but with additional equipment,” Nigel replied.

Melissa nodded; she was out of her depth, but she was interested. Nigel wanted to help her understand this entire process. Some of it he didn’t understand, but that was what Dogs in a Pile was for. It was an advanced search engine designed for technical people. It was surface web available, but Nigel preferred the dark web version because it offered more options.

“Assuming we build an interface, there’s still the matter of figuring out her operating system. Assuming she had one at all,” Nigel said.

Nigel didn’t really understand how a cyborg was put together. He understood the mechanical parts of fusing machine with human tissue but was lost when thinking about interfacing a human-created boot loader with a human brain. Nigel hoped Brody knew something about neurology.

“Let me figure out the neural interface,” Brody said.

Treeka walked into the room. Except for her black boots, she was completely naked. Nigel couldn’t help but stare.

She’s not whole. What happened to her skin? Half of it around her waist is . . . missing. The rest of her is perfect.

“If you need to examine me, I will submit to anything required,” Treeka said.

Everyone in the room gaped at her lack of modesty and willingness to help her sister. Brody appeared to be looking at Treeka with a little too much interest.

“Here—wear this, you must be cold,” Melissa said as she handed Treeka a robe.

Treeka put it on, but much of her body was still visible.

“Half of her torso is . . . metal,” Jet said.

“As soon as we relocate into a proper medical facility, then I’ll perform a full physical examination,” Brody said, smiling.

Dirty old man. “When can we move into the new facility?”

“I expect to get the keys as early as tonight,” Melissa said.

“Excellent, I need to get started as quickly as possible. Treeka’s sister is in a walk-in refrigerator at a trusted location—I cannot keep her there much longer,” Brody said.

“Does the new medical office have an area to keep Meeka’s body? What about proper shielding from electronic signals?” Nigel asked.

“It’s in an abandoned funereal parlor in Brooklyn, so it is suitable for our purposes. I’ve had my people set up a triage center for the medical examination, and there’s a small office that is shielded from electronic interference, built to your specifications,” Melissa said.

“Good, I’ll work with Brody. I need to know more about Treeka’s neural interface.”