Hannah focused on work, letting the last of the warmth in her cheeks cool down.

  Am I flustered? No. Impossible. Why would he make me flu—

  Shaking the rogue thought off, she led the way into Tar’s suburban fortress, a time capsule of a long-forgotten prosperity. They walked past the foyer, the floor filled with clear, labeled, plastic bins of electronics sorted by decade made, the unsorted ones vaguely outlining…

  A couch?

  Hannah admired the cabinets in her kitchen, ancient holdovers from a remodel in the nineties gone right, but they had a certain analog charm that fit Tar’s aesthetic just so. The chintzy granite laminate countertops glossed in the god rays gracing the bay window behind her sink, at least the spots that weren’t covered by empty pizza boxes and crushed cans of energy drinks Tar always bought in bulk from 99 Ranch.

  Then they opened the door to the garage, and phased into Tar’s portal.

  This never gets old.

  Swept, austere concrete floors and the smell of artificial fresh linen incense. Warm incandescence that mimicked natural sunlight shone down from repurposed industrial fixtures on every corner and in the ceiling. A vintage Pioneer turntable that was at least seventy years old sat spinning on a side table in one corner with a milk crate of records underneath it. Kurt Cobain’s iconic riffs played loud through stacks of wood-furnished Klipsch speakers surrounding the workspace as if the record player was the organist in a mega church on Easter Sunday. A row of black server racks stood to the side like shrine guardians, flickering all colors of the rainbow from their LED status lights. The machines ushered in the visitors, gently vibrating the garage’s floor. They guided them to Tar’s altar, a seven-monitor, three-holographic display workstation, that sat across from them. Antique posters of classic bands: Built To Spill, Counting Crows, and Sonic Youth among others, lined the wall behind her desk, providing the ofrenda some much-needed pop. A woman in a black hoodie and nerd goggles perched hunchback on her throne in front of it: a well-loved Herman Miller Embody office chair, probably snagged from some failed startup that blew their budget. Turning down the music, she swiveled around.

  Pushing up her glasses, Tar greeted Hannah with a poker face. “A little busy this morning, I see?”

  “Yeah. Last gig went sideways. Got a new…” She eyed Mac for a California stop before rolling on. “Business partner out of it, though.”

  “Business partner? You’ve always worked alone, dear. Why the change of heart?” Tar raised an eyebrow, daring Hannah to say something.

  No no no no no. Not her as well!

  Scrambling, Hannah opened her mouth to extend the play, narrowly slipping the edge rusher barreling towards her blind side. “I… uhh, was impressed at his… Improvisational skills and his uhh, willingness to learn. He’s making the best of it.”

  Tar turned to Mac. “And you. What’s your name? My my, God sure took His sweet time making you. What do you think of Hannah so far, hon?” She made short work of her offensive line made of turnstiles with a brief, low-key mug.

  Mac’s big mouth piped up immediately. “Name’s Dave, but people call me Mac. What do I think of Hannah? Hmmm…”

  As if pondering how to add two single digit numbers together, he scratched his perfectly groomed five o’clock shadow while gazing at the ceiling.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  This guy and his annoyingly effortless stubble. I—

  His eyes flashed, now knowing what to say. “Oh, she’s kinda funny and weird y’know?! At first I thought she was kind of one of those types with a stick up their ass, but there’s really more to her than meets the eye. But uhh, hey. We’re making do. I cast my lot in with her, and I’m sticking to it.”

  Holding his hips and standing like a 79 IQ Superman, he boomed from his whole body a super chuckle.

  This fucking guy. Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!

  Tar extorted a demure grin at Hannah again. Hannah crawled in her skin. In vain, she counteroffered Tar the eye. Trade rejected! Raising the ask, Tar’s smirk grew wider.

  Fleeing the intense proxy firefight brewing under the surface, Hannah pivoted to the matter at hand. “L-let’s talk business, then.”

  “Ah, and here I thought you wanted to be my friend. Let’s get down to it, then.” She steepled her fingers against each other, stretching them.

  ---

  Tar leaned back in her chair, stunned. “Let me get this straight… CG&E’s been faking the fucking ENERGY CRISIS the whole time?!”

  Looking down, she took her glasses off with a shaky hand, almost dropping them as she placed them on her desk. Tears fell from the shadows of her face.

  “My mom died because of that! She was the only family I had left over here.” She heaved the weight of the big reveal off her shoulders with a soul-wrenching sob. Hannah stood in front of her, her mouth agape.

  C’mon Tar, now’s not the time. Need you. But man, that’s kinda…

  Mac knelt down and reached out, placing a hand on Tar’s shoulder as she used her face to dig a new strip mine in her hands. “Hey…”

  “OI! Stubbly hunk! Wot ahr yew doin’!? Ahr yew makin’ ’er croiy?” An Australian woman’s voice piped in from Tar’s computer speakers.

  “No, Eureka… Just… heard some really shitty news. That’s all. Go garden, I’ll be back in a bit. You can even go at your max TDP,” Tar sighed, the joy and her cheek gone.

  “Awright! Cheeahs Tar, yer a legend!”

  Eureka? Where have I heard that name before?

  “My dad’s never been the same after that big blackout three years ago… couldn’t get power at the dialysis clinic. Permanent damage.” Mac started tearing up as well.

  Him too? This isn’t the time or place for it! There’s a job at hand! They could come for us at any moment here, people!

  Wait, Eureka… Oh. My. God.

  Hannah beckoned the mourners away from Tar’s desk. Curious, Tar and Mac followed.

  “What’s up?” Mac asked.

  She huddled them together for an especially intimate stand-up meeting, slapping her hands on their backs.

  “Guys. Eureka is an AI designed by CG&E to spread disinformation about the energy crisis,” she whispered.

  The two of them shared a revelatory glance at each other through their pepper-sprayed red eyes, and then turned to Hannah, their eyes as wide as a dog’s frisbee.

  Tar looked over her shoulder at her desk, then ducked her head into the prayer circle once more. “Shit. You’re right. What do we do?”

  “I’m thinking of something.”

  ---

  Hannah handed Tar the USB key that held the smoking gun. Sniffling and wiping her snot with her sleeve, Tar plugged it into her machine. A couple clicks later, she popped it out. “Okay. Just made backups on my file server and my offsite cloud. Are you ready?”

  The altar servers nodded as they sat in their folding chairs flanking behind Tar’s chair of the priest celebrant. Tar started the rite.

  “Hey Eureka. I’m back. Got some data I wanna give you. Can you please analyze this?”

  “Oh, Tar, yew didn’t hand me nofin’, yew silly billy,” Eureka mocked.

  The three summoners stared at Tar’s screens in bewilderment: the data was gone!

  Tar looked the most confused of the bunch. “Eureka. I just gave you like a bajillion files. Where are they?”

  “I dunno wot yer tolkin’ about. I nevah got eny data!” Eureka mirrored Tar’s expression.

  Tar spun her chair around to address her clients, slapping both knees. “Hannah. Mac. I’m gonna need you to come back. Gotta troubleshoot this.”