In the weeks that followed, Jin called regularly with updates on the status of the investigation. More attacks had occurred since the first, and he had news for her every few days. "I'll be sending you a full report soon," he said one evening, "but in the meantime, there's something I thought I should tell you about personally."

"Could you wait just a minute?" She got up from her desk and shut the bedroom door. When she still lived alone, Juli had used the guest room down the hall as a private study; now MOMO slept there, and Juli had moved her office furniture into her own bedroom. "Sorry about that," she said, sitting down again. "Go ahead."

"Well ... I was looking into witnesses' accounts of a 'little girl' who appeared in connection with some of the attacks. I thought it was just a coincidence, but"--he hesitated, taking a deep breath--"I think I may have found her."

"You found ... a little girl?" Juli wondered if she had misunderstood. "And you believe she was involved with the terrorist attacks in some way?"

"Apparently. She was wandering around by herself after the Gnosis withdrew from the area. At first I thought she might have been in shock; she didn't seem to understand when I asked where she lived or who her parents were, and when I tried to help her, she just kept calling out for someone named 'Grimoire.' I don't suppose you're familiar with that name?"

"I'm afraid not."

"I see. I didn't recognize it either, but for some reason I thought you might."

"Really? And why is that?"

He took another deep breath. "She's a Realian. A variation of the 100 Series designed by your husband. Except ... it seems as though she may have a few non-standard components, and I'm pretty sure her memory's been tampered with. I'm just guessing from observing her behavior, but that's what it looks like to me. You'll probably want to do a more thorough analysis."

Juli suddenly felt cold and hollow, as if all the blood had drained from her body. Another of your secrets, Joachim? What else have you been keeping from me all these years? Aloud, she said, "Where is she now?"

"She's here with me in Second Miltia. Since the records in her database tracking her previous ownership have all been erased, I was able to secure temporary custody of her as evidence for the investigation. I can bring her to you in person, if you'd like to have a look at her yourself."

"Please do that," said Juli, hoping her voice didn't waver. "At your earliest convenience."

He inclined his head again, a gesture somewhere between a nod and a bow. "Of course. I'll call you when I leave for Fifth Jerusalem."

"Thank you." She closed the connection and turned from her desk, her head reeling as she stood. The door to her room was ajar, and from the corner of her eye she caught sight of movement there. "Is something wrong?"

No answer came, but a few moments later she heard a door close softly in the hallway.

∞

"Was that Jin who called last night?" said MOMO during breakfast the next morning.

"You were listening?" Juli glanced up from the report she had been reviewing for today's meeting. Now she understood why MOMO had seemed quiet all morning; she must have been waiting to ask since last night.

MOMO hunched down in her seat. "Um ... I didn't mean to overhear, I just ...."

"It's all right. You might as well know about it anyway."

MOMO brightened and sat up again, setting aside caution as easily as she pushed away her plate, the last half-slice of toast untouched. "So did he really find another 100-Series Realian that Daddy made different, like me?"

Hearing the anticipation in MOMO's voice, Juli felt something in her throat contract like a fist. MOMO didn't seem upset at all to learn that she had a sister she hadn't known about; to her it was good news, and Juli felt an irrational stab of resentment at the realization. Of course MOMO had no reason for concern. MOMO hadn't spent half the night staring at her bedroom ceiling while her mind worked out every possible implication and worst-case scenario and ran the results before her eyes like some kind of nightmare Subcommittee briefing involving her personal life.

"I don't know." Dropping her gaze to the screen in front of her, Juli scrolled back through the file, a progress report on the investigation findings. She had been updating it last night before Jin called. "He seems to think that he did. I guess we'll find out soon enough." At least she wouldn't have to include his latest report until next week, and by then maybe she'd have figured out how to present the news in a way that didn't have "conflict of interest" written all over it.

"That's wonderful! Will I get to meet her too?"

"We'll see." Juli deliberately made no effort to conceal the increasing tone of irritation in her voice; she hoped MOMO would notice it and drop the subject. "I'd like to examine her first. I have a feeling she may not be what we think she is." She tried to focus on her report, but found it difficult to concentrate with MOMO sitting in front of her. It wasn't so much her presence itself that distracted her, but the impression that MOMO expected her to say more, that she was waiting for Juli to continue, or at least to dismiss her from the table. Somehow, in spite of her enhanced observational powers, MOMO did not understand that the conversation was over. Frowning, Juli looked up from the screen. "Do you need something?"

"Um, well ...." MOMO began, but she hesitated when she noticed Juli's expression and shrank back in her chair. "I was just wondering if you were going to talk to Ziggy any time soon. Because, um, if you are, I'd like to talk to him too, if you don't mind."

Juli sighed. "I wasn't planning on it." They hadn't spoken since that day in the lab, and she suspected he was waiting for her to call first, but Juli was still too angry and too proud to bend. She closed the report with a fierce jab at the keypad and stood abruptly. "I guess it's up to him if he wants to call. Unless you'd rather contact him yourself, of course, but ...."

"No, that's all right. Um ... I noticed you and Ziggy don't talk very much anymore. And he didn't come to visit after his appointment last time. Are you angry with each other?"

Juli stopped in the middle of pushing in her chair and stood staring down at her hands on the chair back as if they belonged to someone else. She felt her grip tightening, but it didn't seem to have anything to do with her fingers going suddenly white. "I don't know." Dizziness swept over her, and she felt as though the tension in her throat had snapped like a band of elastic. She heard herself speaking, but she seemed to have no connection to the words. "I really have no idea, MOMO. Why don't you ask him? Maybe he'll actually talk to you; he certainly hasn't told me anything." She laughed, a humorless rasp that hurt her throat. "As far as I'm concerned, he's on his own. I can't help people who don't want to be helped. I can't go on pretending I care when my feelings are hurt. I'm not like you; I'm not programmed to be perfect. I'm only human."

MOMO was silent, and when she finally spoke again her voice came out somewhere between a whisper and a gasp. "Mommy ...."

Ignoring her, Juli turned away and walked out of the kitchen. She didn't trust herself to look back. If she did, she would probably lose her calm again, and she didn't have time for that now. She retrieved her overcoat from the closet by the front door, realized she had left her connection gear on the table, and went back to the kitchen to get it. This time she made the mistake of looking. MOMO still hadn't moved from her seat at the table; she sat there with her fists bunched in her lap, her head bowed, her feet barely touching the floor.

"Mommy, I want to go home."

Juli pretended she hadn't heard. Without saying another word to MOMO, she left the apartment and drove to work with her hands tight on the controls. Her throat had already started winding itself into a knot again. Losing her temper hadn't brought any lasting relief, and instead she felt worse than before, sick with a kind of emotional nausea that left a bitter taste in her mouth. She couldn't think clearly enough to sort out how she felt, and still didn't know if she had meant half the things she said, or if she was sorry for saying them. For a moment she caught herself sympathizing with Ziggy--if his own emotions were as confusing as hers right now, no wonder he pretended not to have any--but as soon as she became aware of it, her sympathy flipped over into resentment again.

She steeled her grip on the controls and drove furiously, letting the car's automated safety system correct for speed and following distance as if absorbing the shock of her anger. At least some machines knew how to respond to human emotions. Driving calmed her, and by the time she arrived at her office she knew what she would have to do. That evening, she placed a call to the Foundation.

∞

Gradually the sounds of his mechanically-assisted pulse and respiration synched with those of the machines around him until he could no longer hear them separately. This was the only time he felt at peace anymore, in the narrow parenthesis of time between sleep and waking, and he tried to prolong it as much as possible, to rest without losing consciousness, to maintain his awareness without coming fully awake. Thoughts, emotions, the input from his human and extra-human senses, the endless strings of data from his internal and external monitoring systems--the noise he usually perceived as defining what he was--drifted at the edges of his mind and he observed them as if from a great distance: remote, centered, unaffected, apart from himself.

Lately he had felt like one of the old gods of Lost Jerusalem, the one who stood in doorways looking in two directions at once. While he slept, he had his nightmares to contend with, and they had only grown more insistent now that he knew he was dying, now that he realized these next few years would be his last. It was as if all the broken pieces of the past inside him had risen to the surface again, and he didn't know if he'd have time to sort them all out. And when he was awake, he worried about the present, and about a future he might never see. He had resigned himself to living longer when he thought he still had ten or twenty more years left to live, but the test results from a few weeks ago had slammed his thoughts into reverse. He didn't know what to do anymore, and he still didn't know what he wanted for himself, if the question was even relevant--and every time he asked himself, he thought of Juli, imagined her waiting for his answer. If it mattered to him at all, it was because it mattered to her, so it was impossible to answer correctly, in a way they could both accept.

He was almost asleep when Jr. called him from the bridge.

"Hey, old man! You got a minute?"

He sat up, staring at the screen across the room until it shifted into focus. "What do you need?"

"Oh, uh ... sorry if I caught you napping. Listen, the Foundation's been doing some independent research into the Gnosis phenomenon lately, so we've been comparing notes with the Contact Subcommittee--sort of helping each other out, you know? Well, I was just on the line with Dr. Mizrahi, and she asked me to give you a message from her. Dunno why she didn't just call you up herself, but maybe she was busy or something."

"What was the message?" He felt suddenly alert, although lately the weariness of age had crept up on him again, another reminder that he had less time than he thought. Had it ever really gone away? After the first operation he thought it had, but maybe he had just convinced himself to ignore it.

"Oh, I think she just wanted you to call her whenever you got a chance. Sounds like she misses you." Jr.'s tone suggested the actual situation was slightly more complicated than that, but if he knew more, he didn't care to elaborate.

"I see." Ziggy lowered his gaze, and an awkward silence settled above the drone of the maintenance equipment and the faint hum of the ship's engines. For weeks he had debated calling her to apologize for what had happened in the lab, but he had put it off for one reason or another--because he didn't know what to say or how to say it or whether he should say anything at all. At the very least, he felt he owed her something. But he still didn't know what he'd say if she confronted him now.

Had she really meant what she said? He had suspected she felt that way, but he had never thought she would admit it. Actually hearing her say it had come as a shock, and as he sat there searching for an appropriate response, she had turned and walked out of the room, so that he never even had a chance to figure out what he would have said.

After Jr. closed the connection, Ziggy stood and walked over to the UMN terminal and called Juli. It was evening on Fifth Jerusalem, and she was still in her office; he recognized the sterile, neutral furnishings in the room behind her, and the large window framing a piece of the sky.

"Oh, it's you." For a moment she had looked surprised to see him, but no emotion reached her voice.

"I was told you were expecting me to call. Is everything okay?"

She stared at him as if in disbelief. "Yes. Fine. Everything's fine." Her voice cracked, and suddenly she sounded on the verge of laughter, but then she took a deep breath and steadied herself. "Listen, would you mind if MOMO came to stay with you for a while? It would be just until the investigation's over and things have had a chance to settle down. I wouldn't normally ask, but you know how I had to leave her at home alone for a few days after the attacks began, and, well ... with things the way they are now, Fifth Jerusalem could easily be a target. I just think she'd be safer with you."

"I understand."

"I've already cleared it with Gaignun Jr. and the Foundation, and they have no problem with her staying there, so if you're in agreement I'll send her over."

"It's all right with me," he said, "although, technically, you didn't have to ask for my permission."

"Will you knock it off?" She slammed the heel of her hand into her desktop, and the sound made him flinch. "I'm not giving you orders, Jan Sauer. I'm requesting a favor. That's all."

"Sorry." He looked down, reluctant to say what he knew she was waiting for him to say next, because he knew it would upset her, and he had managed to upset her enough already. But it seemed wrong to go on acting as though nothing had happened. "By the way ... about what we discussed in the lab ...."

Juli leaned forward with guarded interest. "Oh, have you changed your mind?"

"No, but--"

"Then I don't want to hear about it." She sat up, straightening herself in her chair and composing her expression so that nothing showed through the mask. "Well then. Here are your instructions. MOMO will be arriving on board the Durandal in two days. You are to supervise her as necessary until further notice. Any questions?"

"No."

"Good. That will be all." She smiled pleasantly and cut the transmission.

∞

Two days later, he watched as MOMO stepped out of the shuttle in the dock area, her head bowed and her face hidden by the overhang of her cap, a suitcase clutched in front of her like a shield. Juli hadn't accompanied her on the trip from Fifth Jerusalem, but one of the Foundation's employees got off the shuttle after MOMO and bent down to say something to her, patting her arm reassuringly. MOMO nodded and looked up. When she noticed Ziggy waiting near the escalators, she pulled away from the Foundation escort and half-stumbled, half-ran to where he stood.

He reached out with his left hand to take her suitcase for her and offered her his right hand to hold. They boarded the Durandal's inner rail in silence, and MOMO didn't speak until they had stopped in the residential area and were making their way down the corridor to the room that had been prepared for her yesterday.

"I missed you," she said, without looking in his direction. Her grasp tightened on his hand. Even in her distress, she seemed to want to reassure him, to let him know she'd be all right, even though he should have been the one offering reassurance. He wanted to say something, but the appropriate words for the situation failed him, so they proceeded in silence until they arrived at her room, which faced his own across the hallway, and he showed her the access code to unlock the door. Handing her the suitcase, he waited in the hall while she went inside to unpack.

"Do you want to stay for a while and get settled in?" he said when she reappeared in the doorway.

MOMO shook her head. "Maybe later. It's all right for now." She reached for his hand again, and he observed with relief that her mood had lightened since she had arrived. "Can we go to the park?"

Following her back down the hallway, he remembered something Jr. had told him that morning. "MOMO, Jr. said he'd like to take you to the Foundation while you're here. I think he mentioned something about going shopping."

"Really?" This seemed to cheer her up even more. "I would love to. You should come too!"

Ziggy wasn't so sure about that, but he kept quiet; he didn't want to upset her again. When they arrived in the Durandal's enclosed park, she let go of his hand and ran ahead of him down the stairs to the central fountain. The soft, pulsing lights of the park's environmental bugs scattered around her in the air. She turned as he approached, and he saw that she had one of them cupped in her hands; it lit up the cage of her fingers like a firefly in a lantern.

"I couldn't wait to see this place again," she said, holding her glowing hands out to him. "Look--" She parted her fingers, and the tiny bead of light escaped and drifted up to rejoin the others, following a programmed algorithm in a pantomime of instinct. He watched it fly around and interact with the other bugs in a seemingly random yet intricately choreographed pattern, and when he lost sight of it and looked back at MOMO he saw that she had dropped to her knees at the base of the fountain and buried her face in her hands.

He knelt in front of her. "MOMO, what's wrong?"

"Ziggy, I--I've done something terrible. Mommy is sad, and I can't make her happy again. I tried, but I just couldn't. She sent me back because she doesn't want me anymore. I'm so sorry!"