Mari lets out an exasperated sigh. “Kenn, we’re not here to rush out a subpar product.” Her Japanese translates rapidly into English in my view. “We need to check if this is caused by the algorithm.”

I suck in my breath sharply. So Hideo hadn’t kept it all to himself; Mari and Kenn are aware of the algorithm. Not only that—they sound like they were actively involved in putting it into effect.

But what is Mari talking about? What does she think the algorithm is doing?

“Suicides can be caused by anything,” Kenn says with a wave of his hand. “Have you become just like those stuck-up legislators? They think they can prevent progress by banning new technology in their cities—”

“They’re not always wrong to do it,” Mari replies. “This is serious. If this is our mistake, we need to fix it immediately.”

Suicides? I think of the police tape fencing off that block in Kabukichō. They must be talking about the criminals who have been killing themselves around the world. The ones Hideo mentioned in our last argument. Convicted sex traffickers committing suicide, he’d said. But that had sounded like something the algorithm was always supposed to allow.

“Just wait a few months,” Kenn says. “Everything will smooth out.”

My gaze goes to Hideo, who hasn’t said a word yet. He looks composed as he leans back in his seat and regards each of his colleagues. A closer look at his face, though, tells me he’s in a dark mood.

“The entire purpose of the algorithm is to protect people, make them safer,” Mari insists. “It’s not supposed to be responsible for users taking their lives.”

“This is crazy!” Kenn puts his hands up with a laugh. “There’s no evidence. You’re really trying to suggest that the algorithm is making regular people—people who are innocent—kill themselves?”

My blood chills at his words. I steady myself against my chair. The algorithm may be causing the deaths of innocent people now.

“Look at these numbers!” Mari waves a hand, bringing up a graph to hover before the three of them. I stare at it in horror. The graph’s curve looks exponential, sweeping ominously up. “The number of suicides worldwide started trending up the day after the algorithm’s deployment. These aren’t all people with criminal backgrounds.”

“You’re reaching,” Kenn says with a dismissive shrug. “Why in the world would innocent suicides be connected to us? I’m sure if any of those are related to the algorithm, it’s because those folks were guilty of something.” Kenn says this with a careless shrug.

It’s the same easy gesture he’d once used when I was first introduced to him and the team—except this time he’s not reassuring me about Hideo’s distant politeness. Now he’s shrugging off dire consequences of the algorithm.

I stare at Kenn’s face, remembering the way his eyes would twinkle with good cheer every time I spoke to him. Is this the same man who used to text me, worrying about Hideo’s well-being or harping on his stubbornness? Who had once asked me to keep an eye on Hideo?

I hold that warm smile in my memory while I take in the man before me. He’s lit by top-down light from the ceiling, casting that same face in ominous shadows. I can’t make out his expression.

Mari brings up another chart. “Past studies have shown a connection between purpose being removed from people’s lives and a higher risk of death. If people have nothing to strive for, if their motivations are tampered with, suicides rise.” She leans forward to meet Kenn’s gaze. “It’s possible. We have to investigate.”

“Oh, come on. The algorithm isn’t taking away people’s drive for life,” Kenn complains. “Just the drive to commit crimes.”

“We might have a bug on our hands that triggers the same reaction,” Mari snaps. She looks to her side. “Hideo, please.”

Hideo’s expression is a tired one, the dark shadows under his eyes only accentuated by the room’s lighting. After a pause, he finally speaks up. “We’ll investigate,” he says. “Immediately.”

Mari smiles in satisfaction at his words, while Kenn starts to argue. Hideo holds up a hand, cutting him off. “I can’t tolerate a potential flaw in the algorithm,” he says, shooting Kenn a disapproving look. His gaze swivels to Mari. “But the algorithm will stay running. We’re not going to pause it.”

“Hideo—” Mari starts.

“The algorithm stays running,” Hideo snaps. His steely reply stills both Mari and Kenn. “Until we have evidence proving Mari’s theory. That’s final.”

I want to scream at him. What are you doing, Hideo?

Kenn’s the first to break the silence. “Norway was on the phone asking what you’d like in exchange for loosening certain restrictions on the algorithm. And the Emirates wants a different set of guidelines for what’s considered illegal there. So, what—now are you going to tell them we’re investigating this rumor?”

“I’m not doing this for favors,” Hideo replies.

I freeze. Hideo’s scheduling meetings with various leaders around the world. The public doesn’t seem to know about the algorithm—or perhaps they are willed not to know—but these presidents and diplomats sure seem to. Morality shifts over country lines. Everyone’s going to want something different from Hideo.

“And you realize the Americans landed on the tarmac this morning, don’t you?” Kenn finishes, glowering at Hideo.

“The Americans can wait.”

“You tell that to their president.”

“He’s a fool,” Hideo replies coolly, cutting him short. “He will do exactly what I tell him to do.”

There’s a breath of hesitation from both Mari and Kenn. Hideo hadn’t even raised his voice with those words—but the power in them is clear. If he wanted to, he could control the US president with a single command from the algorithm. He could give orders to every head of state of every developed nation, of every country in the world. Anyone who has used the NeuroLink.

Anyone—including Kenn. Including Mari. Are they also using beta lenses? They must be; Kenn would probably be more worried about the suicides if he were at risk of being affected. But if Hideo had chosen to give them the privilege of wearing only the beta lenses, then he’s already picking favorites.

Down in the stadium, an enormous cheer explodes from the audience. Shahira, the Andromedan Captain, has just sent Hammie spinning out of control below the clouds, forcing her to spill a rare, precious power-up she’d nabbed. The analysts are talking rapidly, their voices echoing around the stadium.

I look away from the game.

The algorithm is supposed to be neutral. Free from human imperfection, more efficient and thorough than current law enforcement. But that’s always been Hideo’s ridiculous pipe dream. It’s barely been a couple of weeks since he triggered the algorithm, and already, the inefficiencies and tangled webs of human behavior are complicating and corrupting it. What if he does agree to certain favors for certain countries? Special guidelines? Exclusive permissions for wealthy people or political figures? Would he ever go down that path?

Is it even possible for him not to?

“I’ll talk to the Americans,” Mari says. “I’ll take them on a tour of the headquarters and show them some of our new work. They’re distracted easily enough, especially if only for a few days.”

“A few days.” Kenn snorts. “Enough of a delay to set off all kinds of chain reactions.”

Hideo gives his friend a penetrating look. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I’m not in a hurry,” Kenn says defensively. “I’m trying to help you run a business on time. By all means—knock yourself out investigating these unfounded rumors.”

“We’re not here to run a system that’s dysfunctional. If Mari finds something substantial, we’re going to halt the algorithm.”

Kenn shakes his head and sighs in exasperation at Hideo. “This is about Emika, isn’t it?”

I blink. Me? What do I have to do with this?

Hideo seems to have the same reaction, because he lifts an eyebrow at his friend and frowns. “How so?”

“Do I need to lay it out for you? Let’s see.” Kenn holds up a finger. “You walked out in the middle of an interview because a reporter asked you about Emika.” He holds up another. “Your knuckles have been a bloody mess—literally—since you talked to her.” He holds up a third. “Has there been a single day when you haven’t brought her up?”

My face is hot now. Hideo has brought me up every day?

“I’m not in the mood, Kenn,” Hideo mutters.

Kenn shoves his hands in his pockets and leans toward Hideo. “You were going to agree with me on this, remember? That this whole suicide thing was a rumor. Then you have one conversation with Emika, you tell me you’re not interested in seeing her again—and now you’re having Mari start a whole investigation.”

Hideo’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t deny it. “This isn’t about her.”

“Isn’t it?” Kenn replies. “For a girl that you claim you don’t care about, that little wild card sure has a grip on you.”

“That’s enough.” Hideo’s words cut the tension between them like a pair of shears, and Kenn halts immediately, his unspoken words practically dangling in midair.

Hideo glares at him. “I expect us to do this right. Up until now, I thought you had the same standards.” He nods once at the door.

At that, Kenn turns slightly pale. “You’re dismissing me?”

“Well, I’m certainly not asking you to dance, am I?”

Kenn scoffs and pushes up from his chair. “You used to get these insufferable airs in uni, too,” he mutters. “Guess nothing’s changed.” He waves a flippant hand. “Do whatever you want. I just never took you for an idiot.”

They watch as Kenn steps out of the room. Down below, another burst of excitement comes from the crowd. Jackie Nguyen, the Phoenix Riders’ new Fighter, has managed to seal the Andromedan Fighter in a crevice on a mountainside. Asher targets Shahira with a purple-gold Toxin power-up and slows her movements to a lurch.

With Kenn gone, Hideo lets his shoulders relax for a moment. He stares down at the arena with a grave expression.