I got back out onto the sidewalk and headed east, thoughts churning. A few days off. I ought to have been happy with the prospect, but there was enough on my mind that I almost would have relished some work- if only to distract me. Not that I could have done much. My arm felt as weak as a baby’s and about as useful. And there was one of the biggest problems I kept chewing on over and over in my head: what do do about this spacetech whatever that had so rudely taken up residence in my arm? There was no way I could hide it from my dad, so supposed I could ask him about it. That would require telling him about how I’d gotten it, though. Pengyi was one thing but I certainly didn’t want to freak Sawada out more than necessary. I paused at a crosswalk, letting a donkey-pulled cart go past. It was made out of a scavenged truck chassis and was full of meat lizards. The fat, beady-eyed reptiles hissed at me as their driver took them past. When that pungent conveyance stopped blocking my view, I spotted another: the Bussomat. That gave me an idea, so I decided to take a detour.

The autonomous bus was heading north, so I hopped on before it got a chance to roll away. My steeltoes crunched on broken glass and cigarette butts as I climbed the steps. It was between shift changes, so there were only a couple people aboard. A vagrant woman lolled near the back, insensate and nodding on some kind of depressant. Her rig still hung loose in her hand, the syringe the single cleanest thing on her. Closer to the front stood a man and a little girl- father and daughter if I had to guess, given they shared the same curly dark hair and strong nose. The man gave me a hard stare as I stepped on, and the kid half-hid behind him and stared. He kept it up even as I climbed up to his level and he got a look at my size and the ink on my hand. The girl’s eyes got even wider. I just gave them a nod, pulled my cap low and stood far from them near the front. I’d be paranoid too if I had to bring my kid onto this thing.

I was distracted on the trip up to Parkside, the groan of the Bussomat’s motors putting me half into a fugue. Things just got more and more confusing every day. Every answer seemed to bring up two new questions. Rather than the rug getting pulled out from under me I was being dragged along with it, taken into rooms I’d never imagined existing let alone wanting to go to.

The kid and her dad got off before I did, the father staying between me and the girl as they left. She stopped next to me, ignoring the gentle pull he gave her hand. “How did you get so big?” she asked with childishly sincere curiosity.

I smiled, though it was a bit awkward. Children seemed like another species sometimes. I had no memories of being young as she was; I’d been twelve or thirteen when Sawada found me. “I always cleaned my plate and I always listened to my dad,” I told her.

“Even when it’s just plain paste?” The way her nose wrinkled showed what she thought of that.

“Even then.” She looked skeptical, but seemed to consider it seriously. Her father’s look changed from entirely hostile to maybe ninety-nine percent. He got the kid moving again and they stepped off the bus just before it pulled away. A stop or two later I hopped off myself, into the affluent- ha! For D-block, at least- district of Parkside. I passed fancy coffeeshops and cafes, nightclubs getting ready to open in a few hours, even a woodworker’s shop that had somehow escaped the gutting of the carpentry business by the new laws years ago. When I reached Tanje’s nondescript office building I hit the intercom key and waited.

“Sharkie! I was expecting you!” Even through the scratchy connection he sounded glad to see me. Rare for someone in my line of work, I considered as I waved at the camera above the door.

“Really? How come?”

“I understand you were just on an operation, which usually means you’ve either broken a gun or require an additional one. Do come in.” The door’s magbolts clunked and I did as he said. I shook my head as I climbed the stairs. Hopefully I wasn’t that predictable. I found him behind the counter in his all-white storefront. Rather than the usual shirt and vest he wore a full-on suit, its color a very dark gray that set off his eyes.

“Nice duds, man. What’s the occasion?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” he demurred, looking self-conscious- and now that I looked, a bit strained, like he hadn’t been sleeping. “It’s only…you may have noticed that I am a rather fastidious person?”

“I guess so?” I answered carefully.

“Yes, well, this tendency arises because it- it calms me, I suppose. To put each thing in its proper place, to ensure each place is occupied by its proper thing…the ritual of buttoning the shirt, tying the tie, ensuring the jacket hangs just so…I find it soothing.”

“I understand, Tanje.” I really did. Sometimes things got to you and everyone had their own way of dealing with it. I tended to hide under my bed covers and play heavy music so loud I couldn’t think about whatever was bothering me. Hadn’t had to do that in a while, I realized. Maybe Walker had kept me too busy.

“Of course. But enough about me.” He was eager to move on. “Your mission- Mr. Walker never told me exactly what it was, he only gave me enough parameters to pick out weapons for Mr. Valmontane and Wiremu. I trust their equipment performed adequately?”

“Oh, yeah.” Willy’s shotgun had worked fine, and Fidi’s railgun had literally saved my life. There was something else, though. I was going to be the bearer of bad news. Hadn’t considered that when I chose to visit, but it was too late now.“We’d be dead without it. But-“ I didn’t know how to say it. “-Willy, um…he didn’t make it.”

He didn’t look surprised- rather, as if his worst suspicions had been confirmed. He slumped against the wall, all the formal rigidity leaking out of him. “Oh. Oh, dear. I had suspected as such when he didn’t contact me, but…damn. Damn you.” That last wasn’t directed at me, though I didn’t know who was the target. Willy? Admin? The Martyred Kings?

My voice was tentative. I was not good at situations like this. “Did you know him well?”

“Yes, you could say that,” he sighed. His milk-pale bionic hands unconsciously smoothed his jacket. “We were well-acquainted before either of us came to D-block, and we remained friends afterward.” I wasn’t too surprised. I’d always figured Tanje was from uptown- though this was the first he’d ever outright said so- and Willy’s speech and knowledge had pointed to similar origins. “Could you- do you mind telling me how it happened?” he asked.

“Sure, but…” I wasn’t sure if Tanje was clued in to the existence of people like Lesuisse and the Winnower, those who could do things that ought to be impossible. “…but it might sound weird at first. I promise I’m telling the truth, though.” I explained how the Winnower had taken us by surprise with her thread, killed Willy, and been capured and killed in turn.

“I see,” he said quietly when I finished. “He always said that was how he’d go out- that it would take the element of surprise to get rid of him, I mean. ‘Plan for as much as you can, including not having a plan.’” A small, wry smile crossed both of our faces. That was a Willy-ism for sure.

“But enough of that for now!” Tanje clapped his hands with forced good cheer. I suspected he’d do his mourning in private, and I wasn’t going to force him not to. “I have something for you, Sharkie.”

“A gift? From you?”

“Of course not. I’m a businessman. But it’s an opportunity just the same.” He reached under the counter and retrieved a gray case.

“Oh, man. Is that what I think it is?” I popped the clasps, revealing a big polymer-framed handgun with a very familiar shape: a SiKaHae coilgun, just like the one I’d carried before my supposed sister Arcadia destroyed it.

“It is, indeed.” He got out another holster and a few boxes of ammo as well. “I had to burn a few favors to get my hands on one, but you seemed to prefer it to the Ultima.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” The big revolver had been cool, but I’d never quite gotten used to it like I had the coilgun. This was a more versatile weapon anyway. “How much?”

He named a price that was high, though a bit lower than I’d expected. I forked over the chits without haggling. I’d have called myself crazy for carrying that much deng on me before I started working for Walker. Now it was an amount I could easily afford to lose.

I loaded the gun and buckled it on. It sat against my hip like an old friend. It felt nice to have some real firepower on again- walking around with just the tiny, four-shot Slukh was like being naked.

“Thanks for the hookup, Tanje. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I treat my loyal customers well. Soon I’ll have to start giving you the bulk rate.”

“Yeah, right. ‘Discount’ is a dirty word in here.” That actually made him laugh a little.

“Even so. Is there anything else I can do for you today, Sharkie?” Was it just me or did he sound hopeful? Maybe he was feeling lonely, or he just wanted something to distract him from his thoughts.

Lucky for him, I could oblige. It was the reason I’d come in the first place. “There is, actually. Was this the first time you heard of the Winnower? Or did you already know about her?”

He frowned in thought, fingers drumming rhythmically against his thigh. “I’ve heard…rumors, I suppose. Whispers that the most powerful Administrators and their families had access to threats beyond Enforcement, beyond even their varangians. This is the first I’ve had it confirmed by someone I trust. Why?”

“Well, her weapon, that weird string I told you about?” I took off my army jacket and showed him my cut-up arm. “It kind of, uh, jumped into me.”

“King Irem’s bones…” Tanje swore softly. He peered at the spiral lines on my arm with fascination, not disgust. “Did it do this to you? Make these marks, I mean?”

“No. It’s actually been healing me, as far as I can tell. Or holding me together at least. It hasn’t moved since it jumped in either.” I lowered my arm. Even holding it up for that long made it ache. “You got any idea what it is?”

“No,” he said, sounding thoughtful. “No, but I know someone who might. It’s obviously very old. Do you know anything else about it? Did the Winnower say anything before she was killed?”

“She called it a ‘pin.’ That’s all I got.”

“Very well. If you’re amenable, Sharkie, I’ll call an acquaintance of mine. I’ll keep your name out of it. I’ll even phrase the question as a hypothetical, ‘just something I saw in a book’ sort of thing.”

“Your friend’ll believe that?” It wasn’t the kind of thing that usually came up in idle conversation.

He nodded. “Zhauk is very knowledgeable, very intelligent. A true student of history. But…well, I don’t believe he’s ever in his life had to take something seriously. ‘Sheltered’ is the word.”

His friend wasn’t from here, then. Nobody ever grew up sheltered in D-block. “Okay, then.”

“I’ll also warn you that it may sound as if I’m being frivolous, making small talk- but I assure you I am taking things seriously.”

“Even I understand that you have to act different ways around different people, Tanje.” If I’d talked to Dag the way I wanted to I’d have lost my job at his shop a lot sooner.

Tanje’s pale face actually flushed a little. “Right. Of course. My apologies. Now then…” He got out a slab as thin and monochrome as he was and punched in a number. The person picked up quickly. “Zhauk? Bonzoor, you rascal! How have you been…”

He kept making what sounded like small talk. I didn’t recognize a lot of the slang and sometimes he switched into a different language entirely, though not one I recognized.

“Unbelievable! The utter gall of that stomper! Now then, Zhauk, the reason I called. It’s a tasty little historical quandary I’ve brought you, and I wonder if you could try to enlighten me, seevoo-play…” After that he did more listening than talking for a few minutes, then began to make his drawn-out goodbyes. I couldn’t help smiling at him and raising my eyebrows as he tried and failed multiple times to end the conversation. Finally he made some excuse and ended the call. Then he took a deep breath and huffed it out all at once.

“Made your escape?” I teased.

“Yes, though I’m still not sure how. I’d forgotten what talking with him is like.” He sighed again. “He’s a lover of history- especially dead languages, as you no doubt surmised- but due to his position…I think he sees it as a show put on for his benefit. As far as he’s concerned he’s in the audience, not a player himself.”

“Things happen to other people,” I summarized.

“Exactly. I was able to get some answers out of him, though. ‘PIN’ is an acronym. It stands for Personal Interdiction Net, and they were apparently a somewhat-common self-defense tool during the Sun Age. They take the form of a series of thin, prehensile threads with variable mass- or at least, that act like the have variable mass.” Tanje explained this all matter-of-fact, as though he wasn’t talking about an unnaccountably ancient and dangerous artifact that treated the laws of physics like a “No Shoplifting” sign.

“What do you mean, act like? They sure felt fucking heavy.”

“They aren’t made of matter, or probably aren’t. In fact, Zhauk wasn’t sure if the threads are the PIN, or if they’re just a projection and the device itself resides elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere, as in…”

“As in not in our universe.” he said calmly.

I sighed, dragged a hand down my face. “So what you’re saying is I’ve got interdimensional bondage gear growing out of my kingsdamn arm.”

He choked on whatever he was going to say next, laughing almost silently. “If- ha!- if you’d like to put it that way. I don’t need to know every use you’d like to put it to.”

“How do I put it to use? The Winnower could stop bullets when she had it.” I glared at my arm as if I could embarrass the PIN into doing something. It didn’t work.

“They’re apparently intelligent to some degree. Like an animal. Imagine something with the brainpower of a cat, say, but with the innate ability to perform complex ballistic calculations.” He leaned over the counter, watching the thing some more. “Zhauk thought they were supposed to take a while to acclimate to a host as well- and who knows how having its previous owner violently killed out from under it has affected its mental state.”

“I’m not taking a magic string to therapy, Tanje.”

“It’s not magic-ugh. Figurative.” He shook his head. “We do know, at least, that it’s still somewhat functional. It probably stitched your arm together as part of its ‘protect the host’ directive.”

“Hm.” I just hoped I didn’t wake up one night to find it tearing up my bedsheets because it thought they were strangling me. I didn’t like the thought of something that could think stuck in my arm at all. “I just wonder why it jumped to me in the first place.”

Tanje shrugged. “Perhaps it was scared and took the first opportunity it saw.”

“Maybe.” It had been trying to roll away when I grabbed it. Who knew what it would be doing and where if I hadn’t. “Anyway, thanks for the help. That’s a lot more than I thought I’d figure out.”

“It was Zhauk who actually knew all of that,” he said modestly.”

“And I don’t have his number, do I? You do, so thanks.” I stuck my hand over the counter and he took it. On impulse, I pulled him into a hug. He froze for a moment then returned the embrace, squeezing tight. When we let go he looked embarrassed, but smiled.

“Thank you too, Sharkie. I…I needed that.”

“Me too. Stay safe and thanks again, Tanje. Give me a call any time you like.”

“I appreciate it.”

We said our goodbyes and I tromped back down the stairs. Back on the street I gave a would-be mugger such a filthy look he turned and ran on the spot, then headed south. I caught the first Bussomat that went by and got off at the stop nearest the Livery hood. Time to visit my dad.