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from what Fabin said. That’s why technologists developed the conduits—artificial, stable, and simple.
    Except the conduits are failing. Emil says mimics are never as good as originals, in anything. It seems especially true in this case. And my brothers got trapped trying to repair those mimics.
The originals are better, somehow, but they’re still similar. Maybe similar enough and better enough to help.
    The portals must still be around, even if it’s been centuries since anyone used them.
    My thoughts are interrupted by the children screaming. Someone called out Ferri, so everyone’s running from the two twirlers.
    I have some running of my own to do, but that’ll draw the attention of the vid-cams to me. Instead, I walk as quickly as I dare. I have to get back to JTI.

    Minali’s assistant rapidly becomes my least favorite person.
    “Ms. Blake isn’t in her office. She’s busy,” he says.
    “And I need to make her even busier. She’s here somewhere, so tell me where.”
    He says something about appointments and makes a show of having the computer list available times. With his attitude, I’m not going to get anywhere with the nice approach, and this is too
important to let him brush me off. Time for the approach I never use.
    “Computer, voiceprint override. Identify Liddi Jantzen.”
    “Liddi Jantzen, identified,” says the electronic voice. “How may I help you, Miss Jantzen?”
    I ignore the way the assistant glares. “Locate JTI manager Minali Blake.”
    “Minali Blake is in Lab One on the thirty-eighth floor.”
    In a last-ditch effort to assert his authority, the assistant physically blocks me from the door. “You have no right to interfere with daily operations here.”
    “I have every right. I may not have taken control yet, but this is still my family’s company.” I shove past before he comes up with another futile argument.
    The lab is easy to find. It’s also locked—standard for all the upper-level labs at JTI—but that’s no problem with my voiceprint logged in. Minali is inside, working a
bank of equipment with several wallscreens running. She turns, startled to see me. Her assistant must not have commed ahead, but I’m too excited to apologize for the rudeness.
    “Minali, I had an idea about the conduits.”
    Her startled expression fades, smoothing to a curious one. “What kind of idea?”
    “The old portals are still out there, right? It’s been ages since anyone studied them, centuries at least, and even then, we didn’t have the technology to really understand
them. Like you said, barely enough to model the conduits after them. But maybe now we do. And if we do, maybe we can figure out what’s going wrong with the conduits, and how my brothers got
trapped. Come at the problem from the side instead of head-on.”
    “That’s good thinking. I’ll get—”
    “Simulation complete,” the computer interrupts. “Summary: eighty-two percent chance of success under Variant A. Thirty-three percent chance—”
    “Pause results,” Minali says. “Tell me more, Liddi.”
    On the surface, it makes sense that she stopped the computer to be polite and hear out my idea. But a moment of clarity slices through the cloud of worry and helplessness that’s been
surrounding me. That clarity punches right to my gut and says no. Says there’s something tiny in Minali’s face that I don’t like. Microexpressions…Ciro studied them so
he’d have a better idea who to trust, with all the people wanting to use our family to their advantage, and particularly regarding some of the girls Anton dated.
    “What are you working on?” I ask, forcing curiosity into my voice rather than accusation.
    “Just a few theories, nothing solid.”
    No, that’s a lie. I glance at the wallscreens, which she hasn’t bothered to blank. Each shows a waveform I’m not familiar with, though they all look related. Something at the
corners catches my eye. Identifier icons. I recognize all eight.