She can see more clearly, now.
The world was always different for her. She always cared more. But now, the chip in her ear whispers to her. It tells her this bardo was once a utopia. One of the tiny little dreams of tiny little people. All of them in ruins, now: nice places don't capture enough Mania to stay competitive. Bardos are predatory, for all that they can be wondrous.
But this one - her chip whispers to her - this one is a plant. Something buried deep in the muck here is generating mania. Lots of it. More than she does.
Geniuses have killed for less, but that doesn't trouble her. What troubles her is -
What if they break it? What if they haul it out of the sucking swamp and disassemble it on shore and reduce a wonder to so many nuts and bolts? What if their curiosity gets the better of them? What if they promise this time they will get it right? This time they'll learn how mania really works?
She can't have that.
So she unslings the shield unit from her back, drops it into the mud, and raises the screens with a flick of her hand and a stray thought.
No more mania signal. No more wanderers she won't know about.
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