“Hello, Marius,” I said, and my voice rolled out over the atrium, level and unhurried.

“Did you really believe a forged psychiatric evaluation could overwrite a foundational patent?” The room broke into noise.

Flashes stuttered across the stage.

“Larke,” Marius said — pleaded — every polished thing about him coming apart at once.

“Turn it back on.

Turn the servers back on, right now.” “I don’t think I will,” I said.