Within four seconds, three grey dots pulsed on the screen.

Isaac’s reply appeared: AWAITING YOUR COMMAND, ELEANOR.

My thumbs flew across the keyboard with practiced, lethal speed: EXECUTE EVERYTHING. ALL FRONTS. NOW.

A brief pause. Then: WITH PLEASURE. SCORCHING THE EARTH.

The technician, oblivious to the digital assassination I’d just authorized, squeezed a generous mound of clear, freezing gel onto Chloe’s taut abdomen.

The massive high-definition monitor on the wall flickered to life. Through the swirling black-and-white static, a tiny, perfectly formed spine materialized.