Index: n2020.txt
==================================================================
--- n2020.txt
+++ n2020.txt
@@ -347,11 +347,11 @@
 */
 
 
 ## back to Alley's narrative
 
-The eastern outskirts of Riverside slid past the hybrid's windows, getting more and more run down as Alley drove toward San Bernardino.
+The mission district of Riverside slid past the hybrid's windows, getting more and more run down as Alley drove toward Moreno Valley.
 
 "So, how did your interview go?" her mother asked, via Alley's handsfree earpiece.
 
 "Not good.  Their first question was about Dalton."
 
@@ -387,13 +387,15 @@
 
 "'Bye, Mom."  She hung up before her mother could say something else.
 
 In that moment, a flash of motion alongside her car set her heartbeat racing.  A silent black motorcycle bearing a rider all in black, from helmet to boots, blasted past her.  No license plate displayed itself on the back of the bike, and it split lanes, weaving between vehicles, doing at least sixty in a forty mile per hour zone.  Seconds later, just after it clipped the side mirror on a two-seat economy electric car, shooting through the gap between that and a larger car in the next lane, the motorcycle rounded a corner onto a smaller side street.  It never even slowed down much, as far as she could tell.
 
-When she drove through the intersection where the motorcycle turned, she looked, and saw no sign of it.  She shook her head and moved on.  A few more seconds later, and she heard sirens somewhere behind her.  She assumed the police pursued the motorcycle rider.
+When she drove through the intersection where the motorcycle turned, she looked, and saw no sign of it.  She shook her head and moved on, wondering about the red symbol on the rider's back.  It looked like a ring with teeth like a gear, but open at the top, with a hammer rising from the middle of it.  The hammer seemed to form the vertical bar part of a standard power button symbol.
 
-The next forty minutes of driving to get home in [Lake] Perris were much more dull, typical, and frustrating.  Her mother wasn't wrong about the traffic.  The yellowish grey of the air was no treat, either, and told her what she could have learned from the air quality report: breathing was bad for her lungs.  Luckily, it was a cool enough day to keep her car windows closed.  Most of that coolness probably came from the crap in the sky, blocking the heat of the sun, though.
+A few more seconds later, she heard sirens somewhere behind her.  She looked into her rearview mirror and saw police vehicles with their lights flashing turning down the same streat as the motorcycle rider.  She kept going, heading for Allessandro Boulevard.
+
+The next fifty minutes of driving to get home in Perris were much more dull, typical, and frustrating.  Her mother wasn't wrong about the traffic.  The yellowish grey of the air was no treat, either, and told her what she could have learned from the air quality report: breathing was bad for her lungs.  Luckily, it was a cool enough day to keep her car windows closed.  Most of that coolness probably came from the crap in the sky, blocking the heat of the sun, though.
 
 When she pulled up to the curb, the garage stood open at the north end of the four-plex where she leased the south unit.  The landlord had the only unit with a garage.  Like usual, he was in his garage with no mask, working on an old gas guzzler, one of his "classic car" projects.  This one looked old enough that it probably contained no electronics more complicated than for fuel injection.
 
 Alley groaned, tugged her mask tighter again, and opened the car door.  She got around the front of her car, to the sidewalk, before her landlord stepped out of the garage.  He wiped his hands on the obligatory red shop rag, and called out to her.