Page 97 of Anarchy Missing

“I won’t,” she says. “Cross my heart.”

“All that shit that went down last winter was triggered by Lincoln. And it’s more than Blue Corp. Lincoln made all those scientists over there commit suicide by using some light trick on them.”

“What?” Lulu says, turning in her seat to face me. “What do you mean?”

“It’s complicated. But you were in the cave, right? You saw those jellyfish?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, he uses all kinds of weird jellyfish genes to make drugs. And he was doing some research for the military—”

“The military?”

“Well, kinda sorta.” I laugh. “It was a pretense so he could get funding and permits and shit. But anyway, Linc found a way to make people violent by stimulating their brains with flashing lights.”

“Holy shit. Do you think that’s why the riots—”

“No,” I say, cutting her off. “No. It’s not Lincoln.”

“OK,” she says, after a few seconds of silence. “I believe you. At least I believe that you believe it’s not him. But you have to admit, it’s kinda suspicious, right? The bank heist using some crazy awesome hack. The power goes out, the water treatment plant is down, and then the whole city goes into riot mode. If it’s not Lincoln—”

“It’s not,” I snap, losing patience.

“If it’s not Lincoln,” Lulu repeats, ignoring my mood change, “then at least consider the possibility that someone has hacked him and is using his research and tech to set him up.”

“Who would have the power to do that?” I laugh. “Like for real? Who could get past Sheila?”

“I don’t know, Case. But someone did. That’s the only credible explanation for all this. Maybe Sheila is corruptible?”

I laugh even louder at that. “She doesn’t work like that. She’s not under anyone’s control, not even Linc’s. She’s autonomous. Sentient. She does whatever she wants.”

“Well…”

“No,” I say. “Sheila would never do that to him. Ever. He made her. She’s like his mother, Lulu. For real. She is like his mother.”

But even as the words come out I know that’s not a good enough reason to excuse her.

Molly, Atticus, and Thomas all had a mother who sold them out.

Hell, you could even say my mother sold me out.

Lulu is silent for a while after that. Just stares out the window, enjoying the postcard-worthy view of the snow-covered mountains as we make our way back to the city.

There’s not too much traffic as I pick my way through the streets that lead into downtown. And aside from sheets of plywood covering broken windows of shops and trash littering the streets, things almost seem normal.

“OK,” she finally says, giving me a slanted look from the corner of her eye. “I get it. You know him. Like… really know him. And you don’t see any possible way he could be responsible. It’s just… sometimes we think we know people—”

“Lulu,” I say, my voice harsher than I intend. “He’s. Not. Involved. OK? We are not just friends. The bond that I have with these people goes behind anything you could ever imagine.”

She blows some hair out of her eyes in frustration. “I get that, but—”

“If you have to follow that declaration up with a but, then you don’t get it.”

“Fine,” she snaps, giving up and crossing her arms. “I’m done then. I’ll just pretend that all these clues don’t lead to him and—”

“Well,” I say, interrupting her. “I know you’re busy being self-righteous and sarcastic, but maybe you can make time to look at it from another angle. Instead of saying, ‘This has to be Lincoln,’ or, ‘This has to be Sheila,’ just because you have some preconceived idea that it’s a nice little trail of bread crumbs, why don’t you instead find another way to fit those pieces together that also makes just as much sense?”

I pull onto D Street so I can drop Lulu off at City Hall and get stuck at a light.