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quickly pick it up, hoping the fire and water haven’t completely destroyed the technology inside.
    “What did it do to you?” Collins asks, helping me to my feet.
    “Controlled me,” I tell her. “I would have done whatever he asked.”
    “You’re okay?”
    I nod. “He...just wanted to talk.”
    “Be glad he didn’t leave you doing the running man dance.”
    I smile, but the attempt at humor doesn’t really lift my spirits. “I know what Zoomb is after.”
    She waits.
    “Control…” I tell her with a frown, “of Nemesis.”
     

 
     
    6
     
    “We are now live outside the Sydney Opera House, standing atop the Forecourt stairs, which we’re told creates a natural amphitheater. This allows each and every one of the nearly one thousand audience members to clearly hear the Sydney Orchestra’s every note.” Olivia Jones gave the camera a smile and dipped her head to the right, letting her straight blonde hair swing out over one eye. The movement wasn’t intentional, but the newsroom knew it meant she was done talking.
    The voice of Chuck Wilson, the studio reporter that only she and the TV audience could hear, spoke in her ear. “Very good, Olivia. I’m sure we’d all like to be there with you.”
    Olivia nodded, like she agreed, but she wasn’t a fan of orchestral music. Had the concert been the B-52s or R.E.M. she would have been pleased, but when was the last time either of those bands played in Australia—or anywhere for that matter? “Absolutely. It’s going to be a fantastic night, full of magical music followed by fireworks and an exclusive after-party, where we’re sure to spot a few celebs and some of Sydney’s—”
    “Olivia,” Chuck said, cutting her off.
    She nearly lost her cool on live TV. If there was one thing she hated more than anything else, it was being interrupted. She had a boyfriend once. Stunningly handsome. Smart. Wealthy. But he interrupted her constantly, even if they weren’t fighting. The man had ears only for his internal monologue, and he would express whatever fresh insight he’d just delighted himself with, regardless of what she was saying. He almost didn’t hear her breaking up with him.
    Now, she forced a professional smile, and said, “Yes, Chuck, what is it?”
    Chuck was a prick, but he was dashing and attracted a younger, more female demographic, which the advertisers loved. He would be untouchable at the network until he started to wrinkle. There was a time when she was the nightly news’ sex appeal, but two children and time had conspired against her. She’d be lucky to have two more years on the air. Then they’d move her to the news room, or if she was lucky, to a morning show where the audience was primarily more geriatric.
    “It looks like some kind of light show might be starting before the concert.”
    Olivia glanced at her camera man, squinting in confusion. He pointed behind her. “Over the water.”
    Olivia spun around. The giant white ‘sails’ of the Opera House filled most of her view. Next to Uluru, it was the most recognizable site in all of Australia. The giant arching sails reminded her more of a pod of whales, rising to the surface while feeding on schools of small fish, but like most people, she thought the design was stunning.
    The Opera House was surrounded by ocean harbor on three sides. From where she stood, Olivia could see the water leading inland beneath the massive steel arch of the Sydney Harbor Bridge. It was a view she’d seen on a number of occasions as the city’s nightlife correspondent, but this time, it was different.
    A pulsing orange light, just above the water, glided toward the Opera House. The wavering glow was beautiful. Mesmerizing. If this is part of the show , she thought, I might actually be impressed .
    The orchestra began tuning up—a melodic mix of instruments, rising and falling as the musicians tightened strings and loosened lungs. The show was about to begin.
    Olivia felt her attention tugged