CHAPTER THREE
“I’m going to…” Susan hesitated and took the moment to survey her precarious position once more. She sat at a small table across from Isaac within the Betelgeuse’s spacious Deck One Observation Dome. The dome was sparsely populated in the hours between breakfast and lunch with most of the other passengers seated in recliners, gazing up at a magnified view of the ship’s next destination. Graviton thrusters accelerated the Betelgeuse at a pleasant one gravity, and its supplemental artificial gravity remained off.
“Yes?” Isaac asked after her delay dragged on.
“Hold on. I’m thinking.” She looked down at the MechMaster board state between them. Abstract models of giant bipedal machines squared off on either side of the table with stats and special rules floating next to each game piece. Isaac’s last turn had damaged the defenses around her base, but she was close—so close—to beating him this time, and she took a moment to carefully consider her next moves.
She reviewed the abstract cards in her “hand,” then glanced over Isaac’s own cards, the graphics on his obscured by a privacy filter. He had fewer cards in hand than she did and fewer cards left in his defense stack, which formed a player’s “hit points” in this game.
If I can only weather his next attack, she thought, I should be able to deploy enough mechs next turn for a fatal counterattack. I just need to survive that long, so…
“Okay, here goes.” She selected a card and placed it on the board. It transformed into a game piece. “I’ll deploy one TemplarMech, paying three Power to do so, and then I’ll deploy an IroncladMech for four Power.”
“I see, I see,” Isaac said, nodding. “Any attacks to declare?”
“Nope. I’m setting all my mechs to Overwatch, and that’ll end my turn.”
“Okay then.” He sat up in his chair and cracked his knuckles, which made her nervous. “I’m going to start by upgrading my RifleerMech with a Heavy Cannon for one Power, transforming it into a Dual-RifleerMech.” He placed the upgrade card next to the game piece, and a second cannon materialized on it.
She waited to see what he did next. This was just the start of whatever combo he was about to pull.
“Next, I’ll spend two Power and use Guns, Guns, and More Guns”—he added the card to his battle area—“which allows any two mechs with Rifleer in their names to perform a free Combine Action. I’ll apply the action to both Dual-Rifleers, and they’ll form a TetraCannonMech.”
The two game pieces leapt at each other, transforming and combining into a single, far larger bipedal machine with massive cannons on its shoulders.
There’s the bastard, Susan thought. But you’re not beating me with it this time. I’ve got too many defenses up.
“I will defend with—” she began.
“Hold on.” He held up a hand. “I’m not attacking yet.”
“You’re not?” she asked, confused and concerned. This was normally the point where their games ended. Had she done something wrong?
“No.” He selected a game piece in his base. “Next, I’ll deploy one of my Death Bringer bombers and move it over to the TetraCannonMech. Then, I’ll activate Excrucion, the Dark Master and use his Mastery Ability to perform a free Combine Action.”
“What for?”
“So that the bomber and mech can combine—”
The bomber landed on top of the mech, and overly-complicated mechanisms interlocked between the two of them so that the delta wing of the bomber draped over the mech like a dramatic cape loaded with ordnance.
“—into Ultimate Form TetraArsenalMech Death.”
“What?!” Susan blurted.
“And now I’ll attack your base.”
“I’ll defend with the IronClad.”
“That won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“TetraArsenal is attacking with missiles.”
“When the hell did it get missiles?”
“After it combined into its ultimate form. Do any of your mechs have anti-air?”
“Uhh.” Susan looked over her board pieces. “Shit.”
“TetraArsenal will attack your base four times.”
Susan let out a frustrated exhale and flipped over the last four of her defense cards.
“Do any of these stop it?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.” She discarded the defense cards and surveyed the board state. “Well, at least I survived your turn.”
“Next, I’ll play—”
“There’s more?” Susan exclaimed.
“Yes. I’ll play There’s No Such Thing as Too Many Missiles for zero Power, which will dismantle my second Death Bringer to allow any missile-equipped mech to attack again. I pick the TetraArsenal.”
“Oh no,” Susan uttered mournfully.
“And now TetraArsenal will attack your base directly.”
“And that’s game.” Susan tossed her hand into the discard pile. “Damn. I thought I had you.”
“I got lucky there at the end. If I hadn’t drawn the last piece of my combo, you probably would have won.”
The board state reset. Game figures morphed back into their original cards and returned to each player’s respective deck.
“That deck of yours is fierce,” Susan said.
“Well, I’ve been collecting MechMaster since I was twelve, so yeah.” He smiled guiltily. “My main deck should be tough to beat by now.”
“You ever participate in official tournaments?”
“Not often. That crowd can get really competitive.”
“Says the guy who just comboed me into oblivion with his optimized TetraCannon deck.”
“Sorry.” Isaac tapped the top of his deck and it auto-shuffled. “I can use a different deck if you’re sick of facing this one. You’ve only been collecting for a few months, after all.”
“No, it’s all right.” Susan shuffled her own deck and leaned back. “I don’t want you to go easy on me. Adversity is a great teacher.”
“That it is.”
“Though,” she began hesitantly, “I was thinking about buying a key card or three to help out my deck, but then it occurred to me how bad that would look on my expense report and thought otherwise.”
“Any cards you have your eye on?”
“Anazaya, the Wandering Master.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea. She’ll synergize well with your HeavyTemplarMechs. Her Reinforced Aegis will make them very hard to kill.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Would you like some?” Isaac opened his collection’s main menu. “I think I have more copies of her than I’ll ever need.”
“Really?” Susan’s eyes lit up.
“Sure. Why not? I’m not using them.” Isaac pulled out four copies of Anazaya’s card and transferred their ownership to Susan’s collection. “There you go. A full play set, free of charge.”
“Thanks!” Susan expanded her deck into sets of identical cards. “Now I just need to figure out which cards to swap out.” She zoomed in on her new Anazaya card art and smiled at it. The armored woman struck a heroic pose, helmet slung under one arm, hand on her hip as she gazed into the distance. Her armor was light blue shot with a white lightning bolt down the front. “I think one of the reasons I was drawn to this card is the art.” She held it up for him to see. “Don’t you think her armor looks like my combat frame?”
“Somewhat.” Isaac sighed and shook his head. “I still can’t believe you brought it along.”
“It’s a part of my official kit. I’m supposed to take it wherever I go.”
“I know.”
“But?” she added for him.
“We’re not even working a case.”
“What if we need it and it’s halfway across the solar system? Better safe than sorry.”
“True, but what are the odds we’re going to need an Admin death machine at a gaming tournament?”
“It’s come in handy before.”
“I…” Isaac sighed again. “Yes, it has,” he admitted begrudgingly.
“More than once, too.”
“I’m not saying it hasn’t.”
“Besides, if we don’t need it, it stays in the cargo container.”
“Yes, you’ve made your point.” He tapped his deck, and it shuffled again. “Another round?”
“Give me a few minutes. I’m still debating which cards to pull out.”
“Sure thing. No rush.” He glanced up at the magnified view of Earth and Luna. They were still a week away. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
“You think we’ll have enough time to hit the beach when we get there?”
“We should. There’s nothing on our schedule until late the first day. And even if something were to come up, we can fit in a beach trip before we leave for Saturn.”
Susan smiled as she sorted through her cards.
“Though I’m still not sure what the big deal is,” he confessed. “Tankville really is a lovely little town.”
“It’s just not the same, Isaac.”
“If you say so.”
“I hardly believe it!” said a vaguely familiar voice. “Detectives Cho and Cantrell?”
The two detectives turned to see a couple approaching their table. The man’s bald synthoid possessed powder white skin and completely black eyes, while the young woman on his arm was either still organic or in a very lifelike synthoid with a sweet, round face and pulsing blue streaks through her dark hair. Both wore black formal attire with scarves depicting gentle snowfall.
“Who are they again, Doug?” the young woman asked.
“Why, these are the detectives who helped pull me out from underneath the Trinh Syndicate’s boot.”
“Hello, Mister Chowder,” Isaac said. “Or should I say Neon Caravaggio?”
“Ah, you remember me!” Doug Chowder grinned at them. “For you, either identity will do. The secret’s loose, I’m afraid. Everyone who might care now knows the aloof Lunarian artiste Neon Caravaggio is actually some nobody named”—he grimaced as he spoke his real name—“Doug Chowder.”
“How’s that working out for you?” Susan asked. “I know you were worried about your alias becoming public.”
“Surprisingly well, I must say.” Chowder tapped his chest. “Turns out no one believes the truth! The art community is rife with speculation, but most people think Caravaggio is making a deep, allegorical statement about the fragility of the human condition.” He swirled a hand through the air aimlessly. “Or some other bull-[BLEEP] like that.”
Isaac frowned at the odd sound of Chowder’s synthoid censoring his own speech.
“Doug,” the young woman said.
“Sorry, dear.” Chowder patted her forearm, then turned to the detectives. “Also, please let me introduce my fiancée, Ito Tomoe.”
“Fiancée?” Isaac noted. “Congratulations. Last time we crossed paths, you two were just dating, if I’m not mistaken.”
“No, you’re quite right,” Chowder said. “After the Trinh Syndicate landed in hot water over that time machine they were trying to construct, just about every government ministry you can name descended upon them, and their internal ranks got shaken up. I was able to use all that drama and confusion to my advantage. Even managed to negotiate an early end to my contract.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m now a completely independent artiste. No corporate ties to speak of!”
“That’s great to hear,” Susan said. “You seem happier now.”
“Because I am.” He smiled at Tomoe and rubbed the top of her hand. “For more than one reason.”
“What’s bringing you to the inner system?” Isaac asked.
“The same business as you, I imagine, over at the Crimson Flower. I saw your names on the guest list, but I didn’t realize until now we were on the same flight.”
“You’re involved in the tournament?” Susan asked.
“Indeed I am.” Chowder flashed a toothy grin. “Or rather, Neon Caravaggio is. ActionStream commissioned me to design the uniforms for the SysGov finalists, and I’m quite pleased with how they turned out.”
“I’ll have to check them out during the finals,” Isaac said.
“Also, have you two heard the news about this flight’s entertainment?”
Susan and Isaac shook their heads.
“Then brace yourselves, because Markie Flavor-Sparkle is on this flight!” Chowder said excitedly. “I can hardly believe our luck! Ito and I missed his concerts during his Saturn tour, but it turns out we’re in for a treat, because he’s performing live tonight in the Deck Seven Theater!”
“That’s…nice,” Isaac said, noncommittally.
“Who’s he again?” Susan asked, the name sounding vaguely familiar to her.
“A Lunarian actor and singer,” Isaac replied, then mouthed the word, “Overrated.”
“He’s also scheduled to perform during the tournament preshow,” Chowder added, “but why wait when we’re on the same flight as him?”
“You think I can get him to sign my scarf?” Tomoe asked.
“We’ll certainly try,” Chowder assured her with a wink. “I’ll see if I can schmooze our way in for a chat. You know, one artist to another.”
“You’re the best, Doug!” Tomoe rested her head on his shoulder and gave him a hug.
“What do you think, Isaac?” Susan asked. “Shall we go?”
“Uhh…” Isaac had the look of a cornered animal. “Why?”
“Well, for one, I’ve never been to a live concert before,” Susan said. “Even back in the Admin. And it’s not like we have anything else to do while we wait. Besides, this sounds like a good opportunity to experience some live SysGov entertainment. You know, as part of the whole ongoing cultural exchange thing.”
Isaac’s face twisted up as if he’d swallowed something intensely sour. She wasn’t sure why. She thought he’d throw out an objection, but when he opened his mouth he spoke in a soft voice that was almost a whisper and said:
“Okay.”
* * *
“Hey, you two,” Nina said as she dragged a chair over to their table.
“Hey, sis,” Isaac replied.
“Hello,” Susan said, cards in hand, still debating which play to make next. Isaac was kicking her butt again, but she was determined to find a way out of this latest mess.
“You check your mail recently?” Nina asked.
“No,” Isaac said. “Why?”
“Probably should check it.” Nina swung her legs back and forth under her chair like a pendulum. “Might be something good in there.”
“Doubt it,” Isaac breathed, releasing his cards. They fell to the table and arranged themselves in a neat pile. “With my luck it’ll be Raviv asking us to turn back to Saturn first chance we get.”
“Nope!” Nina corrected. “Try again.”
Isaac opened a window over his palm, navigated to his inbox, and began to read the headers.
“What is it?” Susan asked, lowering her cards.
“A message from ActionStream. There are some details here about the tournament schedule and what’s expected of us. Nothing we didn’t already know, but there’s also an attachment. A big one, too. Hmm. Weltall dot U-A-M.”
“UAM?” Susan asked, glancing up from her cards.
“Universal Abstraction Matrix,” Nina explained. “That’s your trial copy of Weltall. All three of us received the UAM along with an activation keycode.”
“All four of us, actually,” Cephalie said, materializing among the MechMaster game pieces. “I got a key, too.”
“Oh, good.” Isaac closed the message. “We can try it out later.”
“O-o-or,” Nina began, “we could all check it out right now.”
“We’re sort of in the middle of a game here,” Isaac protested.
“Yeah, I see that.” Nina turned to Susan. “You beat him yet?”
“Not. Yet,” Susan said, still deliberating on her next move.
“Yeah, me neither. I gave up years ago.”
“You barely dipped your toe in the game,” Isaac protested.
“I had over five thousand cards!”
“Which were almost all commons and uncommons.”
“Cephalie, back me up here,” Nina said. “You want to play Weltall, too, right?”
“It would be a nice way to pass the time.” Cephalie tapped her cane on a RifleerMech’s chassis.
“I suppose so.” Isaac placed his cards on the table. “What do you say, Susan?”
“Sure. I was going to lose, anyway. Let’s all try something new.”
“Fantastic!” Nina cleared the game state with a swipe of her hand and scooched her chair up to the table.
“What sort of game is it?” Isaac asked.
“You two don’t even know that?”
“We were busy with work,” Susan said.
“Me too,” Nina said, “but I still found time to watch a few of the qualifiers.”
“It’s a real-time strategy game on a stellar scale,” Cephalie explained. “It’s based on plausible science, so you can build just about any sort of megastructure modern physics will allow, but the passage of time is greatly accelerated.”
“Otherwise, the games would take millennia to finish,” Nina said. “Each player starts in a random star system, and you set out from there, harvesting resources and building up your industrial and military might. Each player has an avatar core, which is both your point of view and where you issue orders from.”
“The light-speed limit still applies,” Cephalie added. “No magical FTL communication with your fleets or anything like that, and the restrictions affect both your perception of nearby events and your ability to send out orders. So if you spread out your forces, your orders will take effect with a significant delay. The game supports team matches, but the tournament will follow a six-way free-for-all format. There are also partial and full abstraction modes of play.”
“Sounds fun,” Susan said. “How about we dive into a partial-mode free-for-all to help acquaint us with the basics?”
“Works for me!” Nina opened her game file, and the loading abstraction unfolded around them.
Susan found herself floating within a starry void. The table, floor, and the rest of the ship’s observation dome remained as a ghostly imprint upon an otherwise unblemished view of space.
“Weltall doesn’t sound too unusual,” Isaac said. “I’ve played similar strategy games before. I wonder why this one’s garnered so much attention.”
“Distribution,” Nina said. “It’s going to be the first SysGov game released in the Admin.”
“Ah. Yes, that would do it.”
“I see an option here to unlock the whole tech tree from the beginning for a tutorial match. That should help us all get up to speed. Creating the lobby now.”
A menu opened near Susan, and she searched for and selected the local game lobby Nina had just created. She bypassed the various tutorial popups vying for her attention and dove into the game proper.
She found herself above a planet whose entire surface was encased in industry. Its molten core had been tapped, and not a blade of grass or puddle of water remained exposed on the surface. Even the atmosphere had been harvested into a massive bank of compressed resources.
“We start with a fully industrialized home planet?” Susan asked.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Nina said. “That’s nothing. Things get way bigger than that.”
Susan nodded and began to add ships and megastructures to her construction queue. She’d played similar games before, at least on a conceptual level. At one point, she’d almost considered a career as a professional gamer. Her varsity performance had been so high, she’d received scholarship offers from multiple colleges, but she’d turned them all down. Her heart had never been in it.
She liked games. Hell, she loved games, but as a diversion. As a source of stress relief, and as a way to connect with other people with similar interests. Not as a job. Not in a way that blurred the line between work and recreation, perverting something she loved and twisting it into an obligation.
This is much better, she thought as she sent her fastest ships to scout nearby star systems. She had no idea where Nina, Isaac, or Cephalie might have started, and if one of them was nearby, she needed to know as soon as possible.
The game’s physics engine cranked along at over two million times normal speed. That sounded fast on the surface, but they were dealing with interstellar distances, and the nearest star was four light-years away. It took light from that system a whole in-game minute to reach her.
She focused on expanding her industrial infrastructure while she waited for the scouts to report back, systematically colonizing every rock in the system while also draining the gas giants of their fusible material. Her resource bank reached what seemed to be ludicrous levels, and she perused the menus to see what else she could build.
She selected the megastructure submenu and opened it.
“Oh,” she uttered. “Wow.”
She could barely afford a tenth of the projects on display.
Yes, the game escalated quite a bit from the humble beginnings on a single planet.
The schematic for an interstellar mass driver drew her eye, one that could accelerate impressive kinetic payloads to near light speed. She noted how those payloads could hit planets in another solar system with enough kinetic energy to wipe out the dinosaurs all over again, and she began to hatch a plan. Once her scouts located the other players’ worlds…
She began construction of the mass driver’s megastructure frame while simultaneously expanding her resource gathering. She’d need a more substantial flow of resources if she were to finish the superweapon in a reasonable timeframe, and so she also began constructing a cluster of star-lifting satellites to harvest the matter of her sun.
“Isaac?” Nina said.
“Hmm?”
“Is that you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I can see one of the stars moving.”
“Might be me. Might be.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just trying out this thing called a ‘stellar engine.’ Pay me no mind.”
Susan noticed the far-flung star accelerating on a new heading, though later than Nina had. Isaac’s star must have been closer to Nina’s than her own. She wasn’t sure how he was moving the star, but she could also see how that would benefit him. The star was by far the largest resource in any system, both in terms of energy and matter. And, if she understood her gravitational mechanics correctly, all the planets would come along for the ride as the star was moved.
So, she thought, instead of sending ships to another star system and ordering them around at a distance, just pick up and move. Nice one, Isaac.
Except for one fatal flaw.
She now knew precisely which star Isaac had started on, and her scouts hadn’t even reached it yet.
That means building megastructures is a double-edged sword, she thought. They can provide massive boosts to my forces, but they also alert nearby players of where I am. Interesting. I wonder if a stealthier approach is viable. Maybe I’ll try that next game, but for now…
She diverted her closest scouts toward Isaac’s system and took measures to accelerate construction of her superweapon.
“Oh, crap,” Nina groaned.
“What?” Isaac asked.
“I made a whoopsie.”
“What sort of ‘whoopsie’?”
“The kind where I just destroyed myself. Can we begin a new game?”
“Nina, we’ve barely started.”
“I know, but I think this game is going to end really fast.”
“What makes you think— What in the worlds? Oh, no! What are those things?!”
“Sorry. I made them by accident!”
“Oh, my goodness! They’re eating my fleet!”
“Yeah. They did that to me too.”
“What the hell are you two yacking about?” Cephalie asked. “I swear, you meat brains and your—hmm? What is…oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no!”
“Sorry!” Nina said, cringing.
“Nina?” Isaac drummed his fingers on the table.
“Yeah?”
“What did you do?”
“I built an All-Predator.”
“And what, precisely, is an All-Predator?”
“It’s a self-replicating, hegemonizing swarm. A nasty one, too. Normally, you can only access it in the late game, given how deep in the tech tree it resides. Basically, it eats everything and makes more of itself.”
“Including the player who unleashes it?”
“Apparently so.” Nina shrunk back into her seat. “Sorry! I know better now.”
“What kind of idiot would put this in the game?” Cephalie asked.
“I know, right?” Nina agreed.
“Congratulations, Susan,” Isaac sighed. “Well played.”
“But I didn’t even finish building my mass driver,” she said mournfully.
“Shall we have another go at it?” Nina asked.
Isaac checked the time. “Maybe one more. Then how about we grab a bite to eat before the concert?”
“Sounds good to me,” Susan said.
* * *
Susan wasn’t sure what she’d expected out of the concert, but it wasn’t this. She’d imagined a SysGov celebrity prominent enough to be booked for entertainment at a cross-universal event to be a bit more…classy.
At least the performance by itself was visually stimulating. Even enjoyable, if she’d enjoyed rainbows vomiting their colors directly into her eye sockets. Markie Flavor-Sparkle danced and sang up on stage, resplendent in a white suit with long streamers undulating in his wake, quivering with each head bob and pelvic thrust. His glistening hair changed hues with the beat of the music, and those changing colors chased their way down the streamers.
A sleet of brilliant abstract shapes blew past her like debris kicked up by a wind tunnel, while his backup dancers—both abstract and physical—performed behind and around him with the same manic, sweating intensity.
The performance had started with one of his earliest songs, “Pants on the Ceiling Fan (I’m Late for Work),” then moved on to “Tired of Love (Now I Want Cake)” before shifting to a crowd favorite—if she judged by all the cheers at the opening notes—titled “Love Hurts (And I’m a Masochist).”
His latest hit, “A Song About Kitties (And I Don’t Mean Cats),” followed that number, and the concert rolled on from there.
It was energetic, colorful, raunchy.
And loud.
Definitely loud.
Not the controlled loud of abstract sound experienced through shared virtual senses, but a real, visceral, feel-the-beat-in-your-chest loud.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Susan shouted to Isaac.
“What?” Isaac shouted back.
“I said, are you enjoying yourself?”
“What?”
“Are you! Enjoying! Yourself!”
“That’s great!”
“What’s great?”
“What?”
“I said, ‘what’s great?’”
“‘What’s great?’”
“Yes!” Susan shouted, becoming exasperated with the exchange. “What’s great?”
“It’s great that you’re enjoying yourself!”
Susan put a hand to her forehead and sighed.
The music died down, and Markie Flavor-Sparkle grabbed a glass of water from a counter-grav tray and chugged it as his backup dancers took their positions for the next number.
“This next one, ladies and gentlemen and abstracts,” Markie Flavor-Sparkle began as he paced across the front of the stage, “is a very personal song.” He tossed the glass away then patted his chest. “It comes from the heart. Even thinking about it takes a lot out of me. I don’t know if I’ll manage to get through it all tonight.”
The crowd resonated with oh-no’s and please try’s and other vocalizations of worry and encouragement.
“But the show must go on. Am I right, everyone?”
The crowd chorused its approval.
“So, I’m going to need your support. I’m going to need your energy to get through this.”
The crowd cheered its readiness.
“But I’m also going to need one of you to take on an extra burden. To be the rock I lean on as I struggle through this song. Do I have any volunteers?”
Hands shot up throughout the crowd, and those nearest the stage pressed forward, but he gazed over them into the middle of the crowd. A woman in a skimpy red dress tried to climb up onto the stage, but one of the black-clad security synthoids pulled her back down.
“You!” Markie pointed into the crowd, and the spotlight shone on a young woman in a tasteful baby blue dress with a scarf that scintillated with lightning. “Miss, I can feel your energy from up here on this stage. If you’re willing, please join me.”
The security synthoids made a path for her, and Markie extended a hand, helping her up onto the stage.
“Please give this young lady a warm welcome!” Markie cried out, and the crowd cheered obediently.
“Is that your sister?” Susan asked.
“I believe it is,” Isaac replied dryly.
The song opened in a soft, subdued manner as Markie serenaded Nina with the opening lines.
“What’s this one called?” Susan asked quietly.
“‘I Hate People but I Love You (Mostly).’”
“Uh huh.”
Markie trailed off with a lingering, falling note, and then the music crescendoed. Lights exploded around them, and the backup dancers launched into gyrating pelvic motion. Markie ripped his shirt off, threw it into the crowd, and then took a turn around Nina, now singing each word with escalating intensity.
“I hate people!” Markie sang. “But I love you!”
Nina extended her hand and Markie took it, pulling her close. He dipped her forward, almost lowering her all the way down to the stage. He then snapped her upright, and their bodies pressed together, faces close, lips almost touching.
“Mostly,” he breathed in a whisper that was soft yet intense. A seductive exhale that wanted to caress its consonants and vowels across a woman’s body, undressing her one syllable at a time until its phonemes could slip into more intimate regions.
Nina made a kissy face at him, and Markie smiled at her, then swung her out until they were separated by their combined arms’ lengths.
“Wanna get out of here?” Susan asked.
“I think my brain already left ten minutes ago.”