Pitch darkness would have characterized the room if not for the marvelous computer arrangement in the center. Nothing but a crooked series of seats, wires, and converted toasters.

Crammed between the hardware of the dark tent sat an inconspicuous woman glued to her black, vintage monitor. Another stranger whose red hair gleamed under green glass, absorbed in her computational task. The sound of tapping keys persisted elsewhere, steering Jessica to a black-haired boy in a beanie. Perhaps no older than thirteen, he sequentially snapped his fingers six times then switched hands before returning to the keyboard. Likewise glued to the screen, his head persistently lulled on his shoulder. 

He's autistic.

A few steps ahead of Jess, Amon peered over his shoulder at her. "The others are sleeping, but that's Beelz," he said, indicating the fairer redhead. "She won't notice you when she's focused." He pointed to the boy. "Same goes for Boros over there, except he's always that way."  

Amon stepped beside Boros and had his hand smacked away, the moment he fingered the stack of crackers on his plate.

"And this is our humble lair," Amon finished, waving his arms. "There's an unused setup you can use, Lynx"—he pointed to a small, black box console flat on one of many desks—" which you may use to log into Ghost Wire. No one needs to suspect that Lynx and Jessica are the same person. Password for login is the latest crypto coin."

"Fitting," Jessica remarked. "Why do I get the feeling I was always meant to come here? This place. Dissent."

"Fate?" Amon shrugged. "An inconvenient set of permutations in the unknowable sequence we call life? A higher power was probably involved. Either way, I have data to review." Jessica curiously observed Amon settle next to the mysterious Beelz. She didn't seem to notice him, either.

"Now that we're in the bat cave," started Shannon, "how do we start fighting crime?"

Valerie yawned. "I'd rather we do that in the morning. I said I'd lead us to a safe place, and this is as safe as it gets. We can, por lo mejor, get some sleep until Monarch figures out the next plan."

"I'm kinda worried about that," said Jessica, starting toward the computers.  "First thing's first, housecleaning." She set fingers on the console keyboard when a virtual screen beamed a bright blue ray upon them. She logged into Ghost Wire. 

Online, the life of Lynx seemed like a carefree one. Everywhere else, it was real. In studying the website, she discovered that Procel and Helios had completely fallen off the grid, so pondered how their disappearance might relate to Goliath, then contemplated further whether Helios and Malvis were one and the same.

"BitCoin's value has gone up," she said. "Ain't that some—" 

"What are BitCoins?" asked Valerie.

"Cryptocurrency."

"Uhuh?"

Jessica held a  microchip between her middle and index fingers. "You know how the slightest touch of a web lets the spider trace the origin? Say it's a horsefly—whatever. In cryptocurrency, the unending stream of digital transactions is the web, while the trapped fly is a transaction, and those of us who give and take, weaving the unending blockchain, we are the spider. The web never ends; the fly never leaves."

"That is an interesting analogy," said Shannon. "I'm still not sure I understand."

Jessica inserted the microchip into the console. "I'm so happy they have solid keyboards here." Her fingers eventually triggered a single audio playback. 

"We are not inept dogs."

"Who is that talking?" asked Valerie.

"I hoped you'd recognize it," said Jessica.

"We are not inept dogs..."

Jessica touched her finger to the virtual monitor and massaged the soundwaves. "You know how many services utilize voice command in the city?"

"We just heard that conversation," said Shannon. "It was between Malvis and that terrorist."

"Between terrorists," Jessica corrected. She trimmed the playback into three audio segments:

"We are not inept dogs"; "These people owe you something?"; "Whatever."

"Your everyday voice algorithm isolates wavelength patterns," Jess continued. "It records voices, collates their unique signals, and formulates a vocal signature before storing it in the database, unbeknownst to everyone but authorities. Virtually anything with a processor utilizes the algorithm." As she spoke, Jessica's fast fingers cast a spell on the keyboard. "We're the only ones who know what Malvis's partner in crime really sounds like. Everyone in New Sumer heard an artificial voice. What's more, I bet the wavelengths were reconfigured manually."

"Terrorists normally don't want to be found," Shannon said frustratedly. "But what makes you think the recording in Valerie's data wasn't manipulated?"

"Because I think an Azarean encrypted this file."

"And?"

"You ever met an Azarean, Shannon?"

"I have come into regretful contact with them. Why?"

"They're full of themselves," said Valerie.

"Bing. Arrogant, to be precise," Jessica said.

"So, I guess an Azarean adding an extra layer of security would require them to presuppose that someone can break through the first," Shannon rejoined.

"Which is ridiculous, but we broke through two."Her next button-press initiated a flow of code on the monitor. 

Valerie beamed. "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"What am I doing?" Jessica said coyly.

"You're, umm, doing the stuff with the voice algorithm."

"Cross-referencing our mystery man's real voice with every voice in the vocal database."

"Tell me no one is tracking that."

Jessica scoffed. "Well, as a precaution, I'm bouncing the signal off multiple IP addresses. And as an extra-extra precaution, I initiated the hack from someone else's personal computer. Because, you know, precautions..."

"That's fucked up!" Shannon stammered. "You mean, you're using that computer to hack another computer to hack another computer?"

"If you want to oversimplify..."

"Whose computer are you hacking?" 

A random wail punched through the console speakers. "Why can't I steam my anime!"Jessica and her friends lent their undivided attention to a live feed. They witnessed her apartment acquaintance, Jeffrey, throw a tantrum in sleek white pajamas.

"If he does get tracked, they won't find anything," she told them. "Besides, the voice search is being rerouted within and throughout Goliath's network. Invisible." She began whirling her hands for effect. "And the results will land right where I want them." She unstrapped her backpack and retrieved her Vit, whose screen revealed the exact same cryptic web of wavelengths that played on the monitor. "For now, we play the waiting game."

"For Beth's sake, I do hope you find him," said Valerie.

"And what will you do when you find the man behind the broadcast?" said Shannon.

Jessica cupped her chin. "What am I going to do or what do I want to do?"

Shannon leered. 

Amon returned from his five-minute hiatus to supplant himself in the middle of the girls' conversation. "I knew it was a good idea to keep you on our radar, but it was actually a great idea. The flash drive you gave me is a handheld hotbed of conspiracy."

"Valerie is the one who brought it to me," Jessica muttered.

Amon's shades fell on Valerie. "So you procured it and she cracked it, does that sound right?"

"Si, basically," answered Valerie. "But explain, tall, red and handsome. What did you find?"

"Maybe they're running super secret experiments on humans?" Shannon guessed. "Probably abducting us in invisible spaceships. God, I hope they're not eating people."

Amon took off his glasses and glared. "May I?"

"Proceed, Cracker."

He inhaled sharply. "Goliath is secretly funneling finances into research across several black sites. Then there's this headquarter floor that's not on official records."

"Another secret?" said Jessica.

"Looks like it. Couldn't be sure, so I dug deeper but found nothing but a list of names."

"Lemme see."

Amon held out an old touch-screen phone. Jessica found nothing of interest until she read the very, very last name. David Mourner. Her shoulders knotted. "Are these people related to something specific?"

"Storage," said Amon.

"The hell does that mean?"

Amon removed his glasses, tucking them away for the first time. "Whoever these people are, I hope their experience is nothing like mine was."

Jessica mentally tried to piece together Amon's story. "Sorry," she muttered.

He shook his head. "Not now. Whoever these people are, they know things."

"Like the fact that SK-3 was a fractured security algorithm Goliath wants to cover up?"

"Right." Amon's brow furrowed and his eyes rolled into his head.

3...

2...

1...

"Wait..." A neon green light blinked above his head. "If that's true—"

"People would attribute the breach of New Sumer's network to a corporate mishap," said Jessica.

"But—"

"The chip says that Goliath staged the breach and the terrorist attack from the get-go."

"Which means—"

"SK-3 was dead on arrival, not compromised by an external hack. The fault in Goliath's coding was ignored or deliberate, which could implicate them in a conspiracy. The average Joe Schmoe and Jane Doe wouldn't understand how encryption works; they're either circumvented or faulty. The fake terrorist ploy helped Goliath publicize the lie of a breached—but actually broken—algorithm. But, if people learn the truth about SK-3's shittiness..." 

Amon's expression was not the picture of surprise Jessica expected. Instead, his half-smirk was bitter-sweet.

"Goliath is vulnerable," she finished.

Amon nodded. "They engineer terrorism; Terrorism engineers new security directives. Although, I don't understand why they didn't use an older security algorithm, then just say it was broken. Why invent a faulty one, considering the risk?"

"Plot holes aside," Jessica continued, "I think the new security directives are the prime reason for it all."

"My theory: Goliath hoped an artificial domestic threat would let them tighten their grip on the Edens, and no one would question it. An investigation of SK-3's source code could undermine all of it. In other words, they blinked."

"For the first time in a hundred years, they blinked," said Jessica, and her jaw fell. "These are only the things we know about..." Hearing a couple of sighs, she eyed Shannon and Valerie whose mugs were darkly and disturbed. "I don't have to spell it out. This is why they're hunting me."

Amon crossed his arms. "We won't learn more unless we get inside their HQ."

The dates... "Or we can just put two and two together," Jessica said, snorting. "Pine Rim was not an accident, and neither was the date on which it happened."

"The day Anglos celebrate reunification?"

Jessica darted her eyes side to side. "Valerie."

Homegirl beamed upright. "What's up?"

"How did you know about the dates on the drive when you came to my apartment?"

"The dates? Oh! The drop-off came with a message. It told me what to look for, which doesn't happen often."

Jessica leaned forward, setting elbows on the desk to meditate. A feeling of sickness welled up inside of her. "I bet if you cross-reference every date on that drive, they'll match national holidays."

"Which national holidays?" said Amon.

"All of them."

"Maybe, you'll learn to hate Azareans as much as I do." Jessica immediately wiped any evidence of her sorrow and turned around. There stood Beelz, the mysterious woman of Dissent, arms crossed. She had a rather humorless voice, and up close, an X-shaped scar on her cheekbone chiseled much like of the rest of her. The room's neon glow highlighted the muscular contours of her arms and neck since a dark tank top and pants covered everything else.

"Even pro bono, you don't let a repairman into your house unless you believe it's broken," Beelz continued. "It has to stay broken. Otherwise, you ask them to leave. Azareans are repairmen, and their most dangerous trait is invisibility. It's in their best interest to make us hate each other; they need to manipulate and mold that hate, keep it perpetual, but keep it from reaching their high towers."

Jessica could almost sweat from the heat in Beelz's words.

Breathe.

The chiseled woman stepped closer. "Lynx, right?"

"That's me," Jessica replied, standing up straight.

"Beelz." Her hand extended within a fingerless glove. "I've heard a lot about you via the Wire."

"Some of them good?" Jessica returned the gesture before Beelz grabbed and tugged forcefully. Both women stood ear to ear. Valerie and Shannon flinched so fast they entered fighting stances. 

"Suspiciously good," Beelz whispered, then leaned back to make eye contact. Glorious green eyes on a resting bitch face. "Do you hate the Azareans, as I do?"

I sense this girl has a problem with me. "Even if I did, I doubt it would be the same kind of hate," she said. "I'm more interested in neutering them and spreading their secrets." 

"Eventually, sure," said Amon, stepping directly between the two women. "You look wrecked though, Lynx, so, not to be too polite or anything, but you could use a cooldown period. Respawn tomorrow so we can get to work."

Beelz ambled away with critical eyes and took a seat, back to reclusive espionage at her monitor. 

With a scowl, Jessica faced Amon. "Negatory," she told him. "There's still too much to do, digital wheels to grease and so forth."

"I can't stop you, but even geniuses need rest sometimes."

"You should stop flattering me and get to your own work, Amon."

 "Yes, Amon. Stop," Beelz chided from her workspace.

"Either way, he has a point, Jess," said Valerie, laying low her frown. "We really gotta get some sleep. I can't get over all these world-turning revelations, right now." She innocently upturned to Amon.  "Sleeping alone?"

Jessica very thoroughly rolled eyes.   

"Technically, no," Amon replied. Again, he waved for the girls to follow him, which entailed a short walk through a connected corridor. Just more darkness funneled into a cavity of secrets. As she slumped forward, Jess realized that Amon was right. She was tired, and the caffeine remedy was nowhere to be found. 

Amon lifted a flap to another pitch black room, and a finger to his nose and lips. Jessica peered inward with her goggles, to find nothing but bunks and the sound of snoring. Amon's subterfuge crew slept here.

"Looks like the party's here," Shannon whispered. "Why are you guys split off from the rest of Sub Terra?"

"Call us Dissent," said Amon.

"So, you don't play well with others?" remarked Valerie.

"It's the name of their organization," Jessica whispered back. Night vision revealed the multitude of bunks empty and occupied. They would sleep among strangers for the night. As the goggles came off, another thought occurred. "What's Beelz's story?"

Amon's lips straightened. Any empathy he might have shown retreated behind his glasses. "Her story is my story but the pill she swallowed was bitter. Moving forward, Lynx,  you need to realize that the alien regime can be crueler than people realize. Perhaps crueler than even they know – Monsters don't use mirrors." 

Jessica could almost feel his bitterness rub her muscles, cushioned by melancholy as she looked back at Beelz. The woman seemed like a cold statue, a premonition who looked up from her computer and caught Jessica staring. She blinked away. "We have a lot to talk about in the morning.

"Just pick a bunk and crash," Amon said, departing.

Time. Jessica wished she had more time to dissect the chip. "I know you guys are at least as tired as I am," she told Valerie and Shannon. "We'll take another hard-hitting dose of rebellion tomorrow."

"So long as we're around to regret it," replied Valerie, spreading her most optimistic smile, but her eyelids had sagged into a squint.

"We got more than we bargained for tonight, didn't we?" Shannon yawned.

Jessica's forehead creased. "Having regrets already, Xiao Long?"

"Not at all. I'm glad I came. I'm just wondering, for all our sakes, if the surprises will get better or worse."

"There are no surprises if you calculate. Thing is, you can't calculate in your sleep."

"I've seen you do it, actually."

"Say what?"

"Just get some sleep."

Before she could retire, Jessica peered back. Beneath the green light sat Amon and Beelz. Busybodies. The hypothetical circumstance of their meeting flashed in her imagination. They were the subjects of alien experiments, most likely. Perhaps they had never not known each other. Whatever upbringing they suffered had transformed them into enemies of the Azarean regime. The pain was in there, somewhere, left to ferment. Did they ever know paradise? An attempt on the part of extraterrestrials to play God? 

Then again, God is technically an extraterrestrial. 

The passage of time between falling and waking seemed non-existent. A loud but muffled siren wracked past the barrier of a nightmare. Her eyes popped open faster than she could remember where she was, and with spaghetti muscles, she sat up on her bunk. Nothing but shadows passed until a pair of bare legs dangled overhead then landed on the floor. They belonged to Valerie, who crouched and stared soberly.

"That can't be good!"

The lights revealed a room full of random souls funneling outside with their kits. Shannon arrived at the side of the bed, bug-eyed. So Jessica reached under the bunk for her Vit. She meant to stuff it into her backpack, but the notification light froze her wrist. Instead, she powered the display and discovered results from the voice database search. It had concluded with a man's mugshot. Staggered by uncertainty at first, she realized who she'd found.

"Beth's killer."