<p>London in winter was not a snowy affair. No traces of white lacing the ground, no flakes in the air. Just sporadic sleet and steel-gray skies, breath clouding her vision while fingertips went numb around her mug of water.</p>
<p>She dumped the rest of the water in the already soggy grass and looped her pinkie through the handle, fingers curling into her palm to hunt for warmth. Another few steps and she gave up, setting the mug on a window-ledge so that she could walk with her hands in her pockets.</p>
<p>It wouldn’t be missed. Mugs were less important than being out of there.</p>
<p>The pain of being drawn back so forcefully had disappeared immediately upon coming too outside the sim, but the memory lingered. Her mind would not let it go. If she thought about other things, she knew, it would disappear. Just a memory. A bad dream.</p>
<p>She did not think about other things. Could not think about other things. All she could think about was her implants and the system. All she could think about was the vain hope that the data on the card had made it into the core dump she knew had been left in her exocortex’s storage immediately upon the crash. She had no idea how she’d get it out — the tech side of the implants was hardly her specialty — but she knew it was possible.</p>
<p>So she paced along the sidewalk, head down, remembering pain. She knew she was walking a street, but did not know which. She just needed away from the room, away from the neat row of rigs. Rigs she no longer trusted. Away from people she no longer trusted. She needed away, and hoped that the bracingly cold air would help in some way.</p>
<p>Her phone pinged. On silent, the ping came in the form of a brief tingle along her implants through the wireless. A gentle impinging on the senses. It pinged again. Then pinged several more times in short order.</p>
<p>Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. She hardly needed Prakash’s orders to stop. She was frozen to the sidewalk. She could hardly take another step if she wanted to.</p>
<p><em>What?</em> Carter’s mind seemed to be floating down a river, bumping across rocks and swirling in eddies. She could not focus for the water in her eyes. Literal, as well as figurative. She could not tell if she was crying, or if the air was simply stinging. <em>Security? Police? Prakash coming here?</em></p>
<p>Sure enough, there, jogging around the corner was his lithe form, unjacketed with puffs of breath showing in the still air.</p>
<p>“Ramirez,” he said. His breathing was calm despite the jog. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, the police and security are at the lab, looking for you.”</p>
<p>“Ramirez? Doctor Ramirez. Hey!” He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Things are going to happen very quickly now. I need you to stay away from UCL and stay away from home. I’ve got some, ah…friends who will be in contact with you soon. Not Western Fed, if you take my meaning.”</p>
<p>“If you run, you’ll only look guilty. Culpable. You need to stay away from UCL, but–” He pointed down the street. “If you were to head to the medical center, then it’s only an ethics violation, not running from the police, okay? Brewster is there.”</p>
<p>“What–” Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow a few times to get it to work properly. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“You found something they didn’t like. You saw something you weren’t supposed to, and I think I know what. Sanders tipped them off, then told the police you might be a danger to yourself or something. I don’t know. He’s a plant, they think on their feet. I didn’t stick around. Hold still.” The last was delivered as Carter started to shrink away from his hand reaching toward her. He held it up in a disarming gesture, a bulky-looking phone held within. “Avery texted me why you had them pull you back. This is just a back up drive, promise.”</p>
<p>She stood still. There didn’t seem to be any alternative.</p>
<p>Prakash pressed the box against the top of her exo, just at the base of her neck, masking the motion as a hug. There was no sensation from her implants, but when he leaned away, he nodded to her. “We’re good. Thank you, Ramirez.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“This will be good for both of us.” His smile was wry. “We get some intel to use against the WF, and you will doubtless get your lost back.”</p>
<p>Carter gaped. “What the hell does that mean?”</p>
<p>“Just–” Prakash frowned at something over her shoulder. “Fuck. Get going. Walk, don’t run. Don’t look back. Take the tube. You’ll be followed, but being around more people will only help.”</p>
<p>She was lucky with the tube, and managed to step immediately onto a car without having to wait. She supposed that if she were being followed, the platform would be the perfect place for someone to catch up with her. The short ride was spent wondering what they might do to her. Cuff her then and there? Pretend to be a friendly acquaintance and draw her to the side? Just talk?</p>
<p>She had calmed enough by the time she reached the UMC that she was no longer shaking and could walk quickly and, hopefully, unsuspiciously up from the tube to street level. The steps disgorged her across the road from the UMC itself, and she was able to duck quickly into the building, using the light traffic as an excuse to jog.</p>
<p>With the connection between the University College and the Medical Center, she was able to swipe her way in without fuss, and once in, to quick-walk over to the wing where she knew they worked on implants. It was no clinic, but it did have some areas dedicated to care and maintenance.</p>
<p>She needed a rig. She didn’t <em>want</em> a rig, but she needed to delve in and at least let Sasha and her friends know what was happening, that she might be seeing RJ soon. Needed to let someone else know what she knew.</p>
<p><em>This is stupid, this is stupid,</em> she repeated to herself. A mantra. Or perhaps a prayer for someone to stop her.</p>
<p>No one did. She was doctor Carter Ramirez, after all, right? Why would a research doctor from the very university that ran the medical center need to be stopped? Of course she was welcome, the staff rigs are just down the hall, help yourself.</p>
<p>All she could hope for now was that that, if the lost were related to information they knew but had not shared, that they were being prevented from sharing, perhaps she would be safe if she were to be visible about it. Had already been visible about it, with that stunt back in the lab. If she were too visible a subject and the lost were the result of some intentional action, her — or any of her team — getting lost would be suspicious. She hoped.</p>
<p>Even so, she sat in front of a workstation facing the door and, seeing nothing suspicious — no one at all, really — set her hands in the cradles and her head against the NFC terminal.</p>
<p><em>No time to make a throwaway,</em> she thought, quickly bringing up a menu in her home sim. There was a flashing notification attached to the black sphere representing a core dump. <em>And I’m already fucked anyway, but hopefully there’s something I can do.</em></p>
<p>The mail was quick and to the point. She had the address for Sasha and, with a quick browse of her mail archive, the ones for Caitlin and this Debarre, too.</p>
<p>Things went sideways with the project, we may be fucked. Govt plant (Sanders, if you remember, Sasha) and SRB spy on the team. Police showed up today and everything, just barely got out.</p>
<p>I found some data, though. Don’t know what to do with it, but I’ve attached the core that might have it saved. It has to do with DDR activity as suspected, notably some vote that happened a while back, deleted from EVERYONE’S records. Something crazy happening high enough up that they’re trying to make everyone forget and disappear those who won’t.</p>
<p>Home sim is @cramirez:eo3.london.gb.wf#default, will stick around a few, but after that, going to see RJ. Will probably be the last you here from me, as am being followed.</p>
<p><em>I’ll give it five minutes, then I probably need to get out. Had to swipe into the room, but I doubt that’ll deter anyone for long.</em></p>
<p>She jumped when Sasha stepped from the tport pad less than thirty seconds later. “Jesus, that was fast.”</p>
<p>“Caught me before work. What the hell is happening?” The skunk’s voice was shrill with panic. “Police? Is AwDae okay?”</p>
<p>Carter held up her hands defensively, then jumped again as a…weasel? Another furry of some sort, long and brown and dressed all in black, dashed quickly from the pad.</p>
<p>“This is Debarre.” Sasha spoke quickly. “Debarre, Dr Ramirez. She’s at the hospital with RJ.”</p>
<p>Debarre looked frantic, pacing erratically. “What the fuck is happening?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know!” Carter forced herself to calm and lower her voice. “I don’t know. Something really fucked is going on. I’m at the UMC, the hospital where RJ is. I haven’t seen em yet. I only have a few minutes. Did Caitlin get the message?”</p>
<p>Sasha shrugged helplessly. Something was happening with her avatar. The resolution starting to degrade, polygons and voxels starting to show where once the fur had been smooth and well-rendered “I don’t know, I–” She shook her head. “Didn’t…h-hear…”</p>
<p>Both Carter and Debarre watched as the form that was Sasha fell to its knees, glitching wildly, voice filled with static. And then, with a damning silence, disappeared. Lost. Lost to the sim, lost to the world.</p>
<p>There was a descending chime, a diminished triad, and a message floating above the black sphere of a core where Sasha had disappeared: “User forcibly pulled back. Core dumped. Please report any further complications to your provider.”</p>
