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trailed off. The boy was already gone, leap-frogging over other vN and sailing through swarms of botflies. They watched him grow smaller as he jumped further and further away.
    “Do you think he remembers?” Amy asked. “When I tried to eat him?”
    “When Portia tried to eat him.” Javier slid an arm around her waist. “And no, I don’t. He was already bluescreened by then. He took a few thousand volts on that fence before Portia even touched him. And it was a couple of chimps who put him there, not you. Not her, I mean.” He squeezed her to him and kissed her scalp. “Stop doing this. I mean it.”
    “But what if he’s watched it?” Amy turned to him. “The clip is out there. Just like the one of me attacking her. If he was curious enough to look for one, he’s probably seen the other.”
    “Then he’s seen you rescue him, too.”
    Amy’s affect hardened. Her lips firmed. “They never show that part.”
    “Hey. Querida. ” Javier tilted her chin up so she had to look him in the eye. In the daylight her eyes were the colour of wreckage, of seaglass, hard and bright and old. “We’ve been over this. Even if he does remember it, he’s let it go. We’ve all let it go.”
    Amy smiled ruefully. “The chimps haven’t.”
     
    The chimps were the real reason the island was so popular. Many of the youngest islanders had never met a human being. Their parents came here to iterate and either stayed on or left to rejoin the outside world. Another shipment was coming today.
    “Do you think we’ll see any of yours?”
    They were surveying the portion of the island Amy called “The Veldt.” Javier had no idea what a “veldt” was. He assumed it was a fancy word for “orphanage.” It comprised two of the island’s arteries. It looked like a forest out of fairy tales: the trees were thick and tall, with broad leaves and boughs like curled fingers. The waters were shallow; you could actually touch bottom. As Javier watched, a shimmering exoskeletal crab scuttled its way out of the water, blinked once at him with a series of red LEDs, and went along its way. It was not alone. A series of non-networked camel-bots and prototype service ani-mechs ranged the area, ready to play fetch or give the kids a ride or just lie down with them at night. It was safe enough for the little ones to wander freely. At least, Javier assumed so. He rarely saw them, underneath the fogbank.
    “You know, it doesn’t have to be this thick. You could thin it out, a little bit.”
    Amy shook her head. “It’s the easiest way to keep the flies blind. Plus it’s flammable. Extra secure. All I have to do is raise the temperature.”
    “It’s flammable? ”
    Amy nodded. “The acetonitrile component is.” She waved a hand through the fog. “This stuff used to be a stabilizing agent in nuclear warheads. A version of it, anyway. It took a while for me to train the trees to pump it out, but less time than it took the humans at Los Alamos.”
    He frowned. “So if you raise the temperature, you’ll lose this part of the island?”
    She nodded, then appeared to reconsider. “We’d lose anything organic ,” she said. “The mist only burns for a few seconds. And the kids wouldn’t feel anything. Plus, their skin would grow back.”
    He didn’t like the way she wouldn’t meet his eye. “But it would totally fuck up a human being, right?”
    She straightened and met his gaze head-on. “Humans aren’t allowed here. They have no business, here. All that lives on this part of the island is a bunch of little kids.” She folded her arms. “If any humans do show up, they’re trespassing. The fogbank is no different from an electric fence. And it’s a whole lot prettier.”
    Javier looked at the trees wreathed in weapons-grade mist. He had helped her with those trees. Sketched them out with his finger on her back, describing the best surfaces for gripping. His clade was originally intended for work in rainforests. He knew trees. He