But that was a problem for another day.

The rest of her zone would be fine with nothing but a ghost anchor for a short period. But no matter how much energy she fed into the matrix, she couldn’t correct the warp. It hadn’t, she belatedly realized, been caused only by the newest attack—this was a mutation in the Substrate, part of the rot in the Net.

When she rose up out of the Substrate, it was to see a huge mind working on the breach—a mind that wasn’t Kaleb’s obsidian, but darker, more cloaked in shadow. Aden Kai, leader of the Arrow Squad. Only recognizable because he wasn’t in stealth mode.

She could see what he was trying to do, knew it wouldn’t work, not given the extent of the damage in the Substrate.

Payal didn’t like touching unknown minds, but this was an extenuating circumstance; she made the effort to send a message to the man working with such merciless concentration in front of her: You need Krychek, too. The Substrate is badly damaged, and I require a bigger window of time to fix it.

In truth, she wasn’t certain she had the raw psychic energy to do such a massive repair on her own—but she couldn’t pull in her sub-anchors. With her focused on the repair, her subs were bearing the bulk of the zone’s load.

The mental voice that replied to hers was black ice. Who are you, and how did you telepath me through blackout shields?

I’m the hub-anchor for this region, and I sent the message through your biofeedback link. It was a clunky way to talk even for anchors, so this second message she sent through the telepathic pathway he’d opened. I have to fix the Substrate or your repair will collapse. Get Krychek.

She returned to the foundations of the Net without waiting for an answer. As she did so, she thought of Canto … and was reaching for him before she’d processed the need that was a bruise inside her. Once again, he was too far away for her to touch. But she did hit another familiar mind.

She could’ve stopped then, returned to rationality, but she spoke to that familiar mind: Suriana, can you bounce a message to Canto?

Suriana’s telepathic voice was sweet and clear. I just tried, but I’m too far. I can message him on the number he gave us.

Do it. Tell Canto I need him.

A crystalline mind brushed against Payal’s mere seconds later. I’m here. Absolute attention. Is this about the attack on the Net in your area? I can see the turbulence in the Substrate.

Aware that he was listening for her now, his telepathic “ear” far stronger than her voice, she said, I can’t do it alone. Not enough energy. It was a mathematical truth, yet she kept on working. Anchors did not give up. Anchors went down with the Net if necessary, but until then, they fought.

I can give you ten minutes, he said. My anchor point will hold for that duration even without me.

Never did she ask for help for anything, but this was Canto. Her 7J. Come.

ADEN was an Arrow, privy to secrets dark and dangerous, but he had no experience with a communication such as the one that had just taken place. The initial contact hadn’t been telepathic, had come from inside him. Ostensibly through his biofeedback link. Which was an impossibility, unless he was losing his mind. As he knew he was sane, he decided to do as the eerie and clipped voice had commanded, and contacted Kaleb.

The dual cardinal arrived within a short period, and they began to work with a rhythm they’d long since perfected. It felt akin to gluing the holes in a leaking bucket that was so eggshell-thin and brittle it kept cracking and breaking.

I was contacted by the hub-anchor for this region through my biofeedback link.

Anchors don’t talk to anyone. Not directly.

This one ordered me to get you because what she termed the Substrate is damaged, and I wouldn’t be able to do the repair on my own. She also stated that the repair would fail unless she fixed the Substrate.

She?

Yes. Her telepathic voice had fallen into a register rarely found in males. Who’s the hub for this region?

I don’t have the information at hand. But whoever she is, she was right. Krychek indicated a patch that was already unraveling even with both of them using every ounce of their abilities to keep it in place. As if the Net was crumbing so fast that their stitches couldn’t hold. Let’s hope she can fix this mysterious Substrate.

The Architect

While most patients with Scarab Syndrome show signs of confusion and memory loss, a small segment remain fully cognizant—and deeply damaged as a result. They are aware of their decline and unable to stop it.

The most dangerous group, however, are those with delusions of omnipotence—this pool is limited, but the delusion, when it takes hold, is all-consuming. Such patients want no assistance, refuse to believe that their brain is degrading, and consider health professionals enemies envious of their power.

—Report to the Psy Ruling Coalition from Dr. Maia Ndiaye, PsyMed SF Echo

THE ARCHITECT “WOKE” to the realization that her memory was an ominous blank.

Unalarmed, she accessed her telepathic recorder and played back the time.

Nothing of note. It appeared she’d simply been sitting at her desk, staring into nothingness. A dangerous sign, but not one that she couldn’t find a way to mitigate. Her deeper concern was what her children had done during her time of “sleep.”

She glanced at the chains that bound her children to her.

Three had snapped their leashes and gone rogue, and from the waves rolling through the PsyNet, they’d done what might be irreparable damage. Her children might be the next evolution of Psy, brilliant and too big for the current world, but nonetheless, she couldn’t permit such rebellion.

It would only foment more at a time when that could collapse all her plans for the future. Regrettable as it was, she had to do what she so rarely did and end their existence. The three believed they’d attained freedom by snapping the leash, but the Architect had been a power for many years. She understood never to rely only on a single factor.

Which was why she’d put ticking time bombs in their minds.

It took a single telepathic command to detonate those bombs: Sleep, my child. Your work is done.

Three huge minds fell under the weight of devastating aneurysms.

The Architect sighed and ran her hands down the front of her pristine black dress. An undesirable choice, but a necessary one. She’d made it clear to her children that they were to do no more damage to the PsyNet. Not until things had stabilized to the point that the threat of further damage could be used as a bargaining chip.