Even on the smooth terrain of the streets, Artemis found it difficult to follow Quorra and Sam. Their white light lines blended into crowds, and the sleek buildings looked identical from street level. “Wait up,” he called. “I’m not really used to this.” Sam and Quorra stopped. “What are you used to? Being chauffeured? Riding Bentleys?” Sam asked sarcastically. Yes, actually, Artemis thought. You’d think that was a punishment, the way he said it. He caught up to the others and started walking with them at a slower pace. “I wasn’t used to the Grid either, last time,” Sam admitted. “All I wanted was my dad back, and I rushed into everything.” Artemis understood the feeling. The three years while his father was missing had been the loneliest years of his life. “Over here,” Quorra said. She stood at the entrance to a large building that was mostly open. “Nice place,” Sam said. He looked at the many lightcycles, helicopters, jets, and light runners in various degrees of repair. “How do we