“Can you download the original, unedited footage from three weeks ago?” I asked.

“Yes,” Koko said. “And I’m copying the server log that proves the timestamp was altered yesterday afternoon.”

“Do it quickly,” I said. “And get out of there.”

“The progress bar is at eighty percent,” Koko said. “Come on, hurry up…”

I looked up at the sky, which was turning a bruised shade of purple as evening approached.

I needed to get back to my apartment and look at these files on a secure screen.

“Ninety percent,” Koko whispered. “Done. I’ve got it. I’m pulling the cable now.”

“Lock the door behind you,” I said. “And act like nothing happened.”

“I’m on my way out,” Koko said. “I’ll upload everything to our private cloud drive.”

“Thank you, Koko,” I said. “You have no idea how much this means.”

“We’re in this together, Elila,” she said. “Now go home. You look exhausted, and you need to take care of yourself.”

I hung up the phone and walked out from under the concrete awning.

The city streets were crowded with commuters, their faces blurred in the dimming light.