"I'm just not sure."

"Go on," Michael said encouragingly. Our boots made a sucking sound as we walked.

"Daniel said when he ... killed the Pope, he felt disconnected, like a place on the LINK, but not. That sounds a lot like Mouse's hub."

"You were there. That's when you found Phanuel?"

In front of us, a small section of the tunnel's ceiling had collapsed. Tentacles of rebar coiled from the wall, and shafts of sunlight cut through the darkness like knives. I leaned into Michael for support as I clambered over the slippery debris.

"Yeah," I said, once we'd picked our way through the mess. "Phanuel was acting as Mouse's guardian. Even though I was in read-only mode, he blocked me. I was almost caught."

"I don't know very much about the LINK, but ... is that possible?"

I shook my head. "It shouldn't be. Unless Mouse found a way to trap consciousness remotely." A shiver ran up my spine at the thought, and I blew a snort out my nose to hide my discomfort. "Again, though, that should be impossible. Despite advances in biotechnology, we still know so little about the soul, consciousness, or how the brain works. No one even knows if the soul is something separate from the body ..." I looked at Michael apologetically. "Well, I suppose someone knows. Is it, Michael? Is our soul eternal?"

He stared at me with that same uncomfortable look that he gave me when I asked him if Daniel was in heaven. He shrugged almost imperceptibly, and said, "I have been here since the beginning. My soul is certainly long-lived if not eternal."

"You're an archangel, Michael. What about the human soul?"

"Millions of people of a thousand different religions think it is," Michael said, quietly.

"Is that your answer?"

The tunnel narrowed and split in two. From my guess, we'd reached Central Park. We headed down the left passageway. Here the tracks were in better condition. The ties were set at a distance uncomfortable for walking, and my stride alternately hit the gully between the boards or on top of them. When I shortened my step I hopped along at a slow, awkward pace. I lurched forward like that for a while, then gave up in favor of doing a balance-beam act on the rails near the wall. Even though it was long dead, I carefully avoided the third rail.

"If . . ." Michael said, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. "If it is possible to separate the soul from the body, does Mouse have the tech to do it?"

"Are you telling me it is?"

"I'm asking a hypothetical question."

I smiled. "Ah-ha." I slid off the rail, but recovered my step smoothly. "Well, even if he did find a way, Mouse would need a computer the size of ..." I trailed off.

"What?" Michael prompted.

"Mouse has a computer the size of the world; he's in every hard drive in existence. Plus," I told Michael what Dancer had said about the black boxes, pointing up at one. Thoughts formed as I spoke. "If Dancer is right, and those boxes do belong to Mouse, well, I think he might be siphoning off power from the main city grid. That, combined with the LINK'S power, could be the energy LINK-angels needed to perform their miracle."

"What do you mean? How is he part of the LINK?"

As we continued deeper into the channel, I explained the mouse.nest virus to Michael. "I'd always wondered," I added, "why Mouse's name was in English when he's from Cairo. Mouse, the computer mouse, is one of those words imported whole, to distinguish it from the native language's furry version."

"He's a clever adversary," Michael muttered, almost disappointed.

"You were hoping things would point to Morningstar?"

He shrugged. "I know how to fight Morningstar."

"True enough." I nodded. "I still don't want to believe it's Mouse behind the LINK-angels, but I can no longer deny the possibility. Still ... Why? Why would he do it? What does he get out of it?"

We'd reached another section of tunnel illuminated by flickering Christmas lights. In the weak light, I could see Michael's tired smile. "Besides power?" He shook his head. "We should also ask ourselves why would a Muslim work to prop up a Christian belief in the Second Coming?"

"Yeah," I said, extending my arms for balance as I walked along the rail. "Letourneau has a reputation as a right-wing fanatic. I just can't see Mouse and Letourneau conspiring together."

"You've met this Letourneau guy?" Michael asked. Moving smoothly, Michael didn't seem to have the same trouble walking along the tracks as I had.

"No. Well, not in the flesh. He conducts most of his business via the LINK. Rumor has it he's holed up in Colorado on a fresh-air farm."

"He does everything via the LINK?"

"Yes, you Luddite," I said. "Most people do. Politics is especially easy to conduct virtually."

"So, Letourneau could be anybody," Michael said, as we passed a poster announcing the upcoming debate between Rabbi-Senator Grey and Letourneau. Some Gorgon or, more likely, a politically minded Malach must have posted it for the benefit of others that might pass this way. The poster showed the usual picture of Letourneau's avatar, with a red "no" symbol slashed over his face. The words said, "No more virtual vitriol. Real-time debate: 7:00 EST, August 30, 2076!"

I stopped in front of the poster. "Today," I said. "I guess people will find out what Letourneau really looks like today."

"Do you think he's been a pretender this whole time?" Michael said, as we started walking again. "Some teenage girl in her mother's basement playing pretend senator?"

"There are rules against that, but if you're a good enough hacker you can run under an assumed name ... for a while. LINK-vice usually catches up with people who do that." I shrugged.

"If they commit crimes under the assumed name," Michael said. "Right?"

"I suppose. But, if that's the case, Letourneau has been running a tight scam for a long time. He's a public figure."

"But, it's possible."

"After meeting you," I said, "I'm beginning to believe anything is possible."

Flecks of light shimmered on the planes of his face, but Michael's eyes were swallowed by darkness. Only the tips of his eyelashes shone in the dark hollows. Michael's mind seemed far away.

The Christmas lights twinkled against the ceiling like stars. I wondered what people would do to celebrate my baby's birthday. "Michael, Raphael was surprised."

"Ha?" Michael blinked away his thoughts, as if having to consciously focus on me. "By what?"

"That I was pregnant."

"Deidre!" Michael stopped walking and put his hands on his hips. "Why did you tell him that?"

I let him fall behind and kept trudging forward. "I didn't know it was supposed to be a secret. I guess I figured he would already know."

"How many times do I have to tell you it doesn't work that way?"

I stopped walking and hopped off the rail. Straddling the ties, I faced him. "Are you telling me Jesus wasn't planned?"

Michael stood motionless, like a stone. The lights danced around him, twisting his shadow against the wall. "I'm not always privy to the divine design, but this I know for certain: messiahs are an earthly concept."

"I don't believe you."

Michael nodded, a small smile playing at the comers of his mouth. "So you have some blind faith after all."

"I guess I do."

"Deidre, you've met three archangels. A Christian." He laid his hand on his chest, to indicate himself. "A Muslim, and a Jew. If one messiah was the only true messiah, how could that be?"

I remembered the funeral, and the ease with which my Christian angel had donned a yarmulke and spoken Hebrew. "Michael, you're a Jew, too."

When I looked back to Michael, my breath caught. The same gray eyes stared back at me, but Michael had transformed. Bearded, turbaned, and darker-skinned, I barely recognized him. He held a curved sword in his hands, which gleamed wickedly in the bright light.