"Then they do. Gavin. Tulpagenics." She dropped the bag into Joe-Eddy’s clutter, the lone bare bundle of hundreds on top of it, and pulled off the glove. "They’re documenting all of this. They must be, if you’re what Gavin says you are. Proprietary software. This conversation is taking place via more of that software, running on their hardware. They already know whatever it is you think you’re up to."