"Yippee! I'm so happy Edward comes out of the hospital today." Amy galloped down the stairs with a plastic box. "Those are the Game Boy console and cartridges I promised him last week when I visited. No need for skin contact, no need for internet connection. Four AA batteries and he's good for hours of fun."

Dad put on his coat then struggled to lace his shoes, his broad shoulders straining the thick wool of his adjusted garment. "There's chicken stew simmering in the slow cooker for dinner, but you can have some for lunch if there isn't enough remaining batter for the banh chew."

"Okay." I nodded as I waited for Mom to put the finishing touches on her makeup, and hand her a jacket.

"Let's go, honey. See you tonight, girls." She sniffed my cheek, then grimaced and rubbed my skin. "Oh, sorry, sweetheart. You got lipstick on your jaw."

Ames waved them goodbye while I faced the hall mirror and tried to get rid of the stain.

"You gotta use some oil-based makeup remover. Mom's cherry lipstick is long-lasting." She paused, before adding with a strangled voice, "It looks like blood."

Indeed, the smudge could pass as an open wound on my chin. I ignored the foreboding that arose at Amy's remark, and plastered a smile. "Whatcha got planned for this sunny Saturday morning?"

Her hand waved towards the living room. "I gotta watch replays of yesterday's newscasts for my Data Analysis assignment. Mark down the titles, then compare how different provinces cover the same story. Wanna keep me company?"

"As thrilling and enticing as this sounds, I'm gonna pass. I have to start my essay on chick lit."

"Oh, pretty please? We could play an eating game? It would be fun. I'd get some candies, and we'd gobble them up according to the news type. Confectionery breakfast?" Ames joined her hands in a prayer stance and fake-pouted.

I caved in at her adorable imitation of Puss in Boots' eyes. "Fine."

Once the contents of the pantry had been raided and piled up on the coffee table, we settled on the couch. While Amy created a spreadsheet on her laptop, I used the TV remote to select the replay services of the first channel on her list.

"Politics, business, health, entertainment, sports," she enumerated pointing out to labels she had placed before each candy bag. "And news when it doesn't fit in other categories."

"I sure hope there will be many reports that won't fit," I said, ogling the peanut butter cups.

And there were. Two hours and three newscasts later, only five cups remained.

"After this station in Winnipeg, I'll have enough data to analyse." Ames took a huge bite of a strawberry Twizzlers. "Urgh. This guy deserved it."

I tore my fluttering eyes from the ginormous pile of gold foil before me, and focused them on the recording.

On the television screen, a security camera video showed a man running in a building entrance, then being bludgeoned by a petite yet fierce silhouette.

"What did he do? 'Battered woman attacks partner.' Oh. Is he okay?"

"Who cares?" Amy snarled and chewed her licorice with vigour. "He beat her."

"Then he should've been arrested and undergone a trial. Now, she will be convicted of assaulting him, and might face jail time." I pinched my nose blade, taking long breaths to reign in the effects of the sugar rush.

"She'll plead insanity. The reporter said she went berserk. She ran after him with a bat, pursuing him out of their apartment and throughout the building hallways. When he hit the ground, unconscious, she dropped her weapon and tried to help him. She claimed to have no memory of what possessed her."

"What happened with the other one?"

"Who?" Amy read over her notes to understand who I was referring to, to no avail.

I stomped my feet on the carpet as I concentrated to clarify my thoughts. "A wife struck her spouse recently, but I don't remember in which province."

The clattering of the keyboard filled the room after Ames paused the replay video. "How odd." She turned her screen for me to see the search results. "I found more than two matches to 'attack spouse'. Vancouver, then Moncton, Toronto, and Winnipeg. Since last Friday, a total of four people has hit their partners, and look! All were battered persons. And at least one other asserted he had no recollection of the facts."

"How come no news channel reported these coincidences?"

"These four events were scattered in different cities, in different provinces. This pattern could only be noticed at the national news level. But then, it's only domestic violence. Big channels wouldn't care about such trifles." She shrugged in disgust.

My heart lurched, perhaps because of anger, perhaps because of the insane amount of confectionery I had ingested, perhaps because I had caught a glimpse of something on the TV. "What's that?"

Amy followed my gaze and squinted her eyes. "Where?"

I got up and wobbled to the television. "Here. On her temple."

"That's an artefact. It appeared when I paused the video between two frames."

"Did it?" I grabbed the remote to resume the replay. The shiny spot on the woman's temple remained in place while she clubbed her tormentor.

"It could be a reflection," Amy offered, sounding half-convinced.

I swallowed with difficulty, and nausea flooded me as the knot in my throat fell to my stomach. "Or it could be a Bridge."

The array of possibilities that my hypothesis unfurled was dizzying. I had to warn Theo.

My feet led me up the stairs. In a corner of my numb mind, I heard Amy yell that she would dig up on the subject, but I could form no coherent answer before I shut my door. In a daze, I took the Bridge case from my desk drawer, and slumped down on the bed. Sucking in a shuddering breath, I broke my promise and touched the device.

The engine materialised me in Pemberley picture-gallery, on the sofa under Darcy's portrait. Without missing a beat, I booped his nose.

"Hi." Theo entered the room in Darcy's body, and joined me up on the couch as the painting glimmered. His smile faded away when I unceremoniously pushed him in the portrait.

We stumbled into the Tim Hortons in our own bodies and clothes.

Before I could register the change, the blond cashier beamed at me. "Hello. What can I get you tod--"

"Not now," I cut in, ignoring the guilt triggered by her startled expression. Instead, I turned to Theo and blurted out, "I think the hackers you mentioned a couple of weeks ago are forcing Bridge users to attack other people."

His eyes widened in confusion. "W-what?"

Outside, the sky darkened, and the NPCs gazed at it with surprise.

I paced the restaurant entrance, rubbing my hands nervously. "I know. It sounds crazy. My sister and I have noticed that four battered persons struck their persecutors back these last days. Two claim to not remember what happened. And," I shivered, and wrapped myself in my arms, "I'm almost sure I saw a Bridge on one of them."

Heavy rain covered the street and shop window, prompting the passerby to dash to the nearest shelter. Inside the coffee shop, clients huddled up together, and hung on tight to their steaming mugs.

A clanking noise made me spin around. The cashier squealed, then pushed a tray with two coffees and a dozen chocolate glazed donuts towards me, and ran back to the kitchen.

I chuckled at her well-timed intervention, and Theo exhaled with relief.

The sun peered at me between the thinning clouds and, content with my relaxed expression, chased the rain away, allowing pedestrians to resume their activities.

Theo took the tray and me to a secluded corner of the restaurant. "Here. Enjoy these while I investigate." His dark brown eyes stared into space as he typed on his tablet, keyboard, or whatever connected him and his Bridge to the internet.

I stuffed myself with donuts in the meantime, blinking at the blue sky's reflection in the many puddles outside.

"It's not just battered persons." Worry had added wrinkles to his face when he came back ten donuts later. "I found bullied children exacting revenge on their tormentors, and victim's families killing the murderer of their loved one, then forgetting about the events. I discovered only a handful of cases in Canada, just enough to not attract attention. I expanded my search worldwide, and the same pattern repeated in other countries."

"This cannot be a coincidence, can it?"

"Nope."

"You have to warn InfiCorp that the fix they've deployed is not working."

Theo combed his sandy hair with a nervous hand. "As promised, I analysed the most recent changes in the source code after the worldwide bug." He lowered his voice and threw anxious glances at the entry door. "Leah, there was no fix."

"You didn't find it? Are you certain? Couldn't it be because you're not a member of the technical team?"

"No. I used the administrator's credentials I had hidden away during my internship. That's how I could tweak your Bridge and monitor the code modifications, or rather lack of."

"Your chief technical officer lied. I knew it. I knew it because of Edward's accident."

Theo's nose wrinkled in perplexity. "Who's Edward?"

"My cousin. His stupid Bridge stopped him in the middle of a street last week, and a car hit him."

"Oh, my God! Is he okay?"

"He's going back home today. There should be no after-effects. But his case, and the fact that InfiCorp didn't mention an injured Bridge user in its allocution, raised my suspicion."

Theo took a sip off his mug, then made its contents swirl. "But why would Romano pretend to solve the issue? I know for sure that the technical team is not working on the subject anymore: they're all busy fixing Legolas' hair."

"Indeed, why would your CTO dismiss the problem? Geez, he even went through the trouble of a press conference, and made a point to show off his own Bridge to prove the innocuousness of..." I gaped at Theo as I pieced the events together.

He froze, the last donut poking out between his lips. "Oops. Did you want it?"

"Forget about the donut."

"I know chocolate glazed is your favourite. Are you sure you're not mad I took the last one?"

"Dude! What if the pirates controlled your CTO? And your technical team? And your board of directors?"

Theo's jaw dropped to the floor, and pop! A thousand chocolate glazed donuts appeared on the table between us, blocking him out of my view.

"What the heck?" I whispered, poking at the glistening pile. Those looked awfully yummy.

"Sorry. You made me mistype the number." Theo's muffled voice came from behind the chocolatey wall.

I pulled a piece of donut and brought it to my mouth, but to my dismay, it vanished before I could sink my teeth in it, along with the whole barricade.

"Your theory is that the hackers that stole players' memories have upped their game, and declared themselves as vigilantes? That they're controlling Bridge users to avenge the latter's wrongs? And that they are covering their tracks by zombifying the technical team and board of directors of InfiCorp? Leah, isn't it a bit far fetched?"

"I know this sounds like a lame thriller book or Z movie, but you gotta admit that my story makes sense."

Theo tapped his fingers on the table, his brows furrowing in intense concentration. "Give me a minute. I'll have a look at the list of connected profiles."

As he looked again into the void, I eyed the blond cashier, but before I could order, Theo moaned, sweat beading his forehead. "They're immersed. All of them. And their up time is through the roof: they've been online for over a week."

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the poor passerby cowered from the sudden gusts of wind.

"This is madness. Romano was in my open space yesterday. I freaking shook his hand."

I gently pressed on his forearm. "We'll alert the police. They'll know what to do."

"What if there are controlled people amongst the police officers?"

"Then we'll contact the media," I offered, though I foresaw Theo's reply.

"Leah, it's the same. We cannot trust anyone. Each stranger might be manipulated by the pirates."

"What can we do, in that case? We cannot take such an enemy by ourselves, can we?"

"No, we can't. And we won't."

"Who do you have in mind?" I inquired.

Theo pointed towards the round plastic clock hanging above the sugar and milk station. "Let's go to Victoria's Batcave."