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back to everyone, maybe that would restore the world’s faith in her.
    Jesse suddenly pounded the arms of his chair.
    â€œDon’t you people ever ask ? Fuck!”
    Everyone stared at him, and he retreated back into the seat a little.
    â€œI’m sorry, but not everyone thinks this a good thing. Maybe taking d-mat offline for a while is a positive step, giving people time to think about what it really means, how it’s being used, without taking it for granted like they usually do. . . .”
    He sounded like his father—a heretic in the church of d-mat—and for a second Jesse even looked like him. There was a defiant jut to his jaw, and a fire in his eyes that Clair had never seen before. She stared awkwardly elsewhere, not wanting to look at him like the others did. They clearly thought he was crazy for having objections to something they all thought was normal.
    There was one other person who wasn’t watching him, though, and that was PK Sargent. She was staring at Clair with an intense expression, as though she had just realized something important. Clair was about to ask what it was when her dupe broke the awkward silence.
    â€œCharlie says hello,” she said, kicking backward with both feet against the floor and sending her chair rolling headlong toward Clair. She ducked under PK Drader’s widespread arms and kicked again, accelerating.
    Clair barely had time to raise her hands when she and the dupe collided, spilling them both onto the floor. She landed on her bad elbow and hissed in pain. Clutching her arm to her chest, she tried to roll away from the dupe, but how could she possibly outrun herself ? The chain of the cuffs caught Clair around the neck and for an instant she was being strangled.
    Booted feet surrounded them. Drader and Forest pulled the dupe up and away from Clair, one on each arm. Clair wrenched free and scrabbled backward across the floor, clutching her throat. The dupe’s face was like nothing she had ever seen—her own features twisted in a snarl that looked barely human. Clair couldn’t tell if the dupe was angry or in pain. The sound she made was incoherent, a forceful groan through grinding teeth.
    Then, with a loud bang, the front of the dupe’s orange jumpsuit exploded.
    Someone screamed. People scattered to all corners of the booth. Clair was hit on the side of her face by something hot and wet, and the air was suddenly full of stinking yellow smoke, through which it was hard to make out anything or anyone. She reached out for something to hang on to, then found Jesse. He was on his feet already and helped her to hers, blinking and gaping with shock.
    The dupe lay flat on her back in the center of the booth with one arm bent awkwardly underneath her. The midriff of her jumpsuit was a gaping hole, and judging by what Clair could barely glance at, so was the midriff of the dupe.
    â€œDid someone shoot her?” Jesse said over the sound of coughing. “It looks like she blew up.”
    Clair cautiously approached the body, covering her mouth with one hand. A tiny voice whispered in her ears, a voice saying words she couldn’t quite make out. She tilted her head and blocked her ear with one finger. It seemed to be coming from her augs. Something about didn’t see that coming .
    Was it issuing from the body?
    The corpse twitched, and Clair jumped backward, bumping into Devin. Blood dripped from his hair.
    â€œShe did blow up,” he said. “Can’t have been a real bomb or the shadow road would’ve picked it up. Chemical and fat stores, probably, triggered by the body’s natural electricity. Didn’t know dupes could do that.”
    Clair stared at him in disbelief. He sounded fascinated . That was almost as horrible as what lay on the floor in front of her.
    Around them, the other occupants of the booth were regaining their feet. Incredibly no one was hurt. Covered in gore, and Tilly/Xia had thrown up,