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pauses, searching for her words, “when you came back six weeks ago, we used that opportunity to continue your analyses to see how your optimizations had held up under duress. Using neurodisruptive technology, we temporarily disabled your ability to form new memories.”
    So you could run your experiments in peace.
    â€œSo we could make sure you were as healthy and high-functioning as ever.”
    I am a piece of equipment to be fixed, a tool to be utilized, a machine designed to operate according to your plan. I am your feather.
    Six weeks have passed since I last saw Remy. Six weeks since the Resistance was destroyed. Where have Remy, Soren, Miah, Chan-Yu, and Linnea been all that time? Are they in custody? Were they able to escape? Are they even alive?
    What do I do now?
    My mother leans in close and again presses her hand into my shoulder. I meet her eyes, wondering if I’ll see any spark of the humanity that once kept her alive, or just gears clicking behind her pupils, keeping time to a drumbeat of deceit.
    â€œI’m sorry we couldn’t tell you,” she whispers. She sounds so genuine, even vulnerable. But beyond this veneer of the caring, doting mother is the cold face of a woman who felt she couldn’t involve her son in the first place. The two-faced monster emerges in my fuzzy vision: a mother proud and protective of her perfected creation; a mother refusing to grant her creation freedom from her twisted vise of lies. “But we wanted it for you. We’ve only ever wanted the best for you, Vale.”
    I don’t understand , I think. I can never forgive you .
    â€œI understand,” I say. “I forgive you.”

3 - REMY
    Spring 62, Sector Annum 106, 14h05
    Gregorian Calendar: May 20

    â€œPlease don’t ever do that to me!” A high voice cuts into my solitude from across the park.
    â€œI would never.” The second voice is lower, with a tremor of laughter. “How could anyone do that? Kidnap their best friend?”
    I’m passing the time sitting on a bench in Reunion Park. This park is the heart of the city. To my right, about four kilometers down the Rue Nationale, is the campus of the Academy and the Sector Research Institute, the SRI. To my left, down the same street in the opposite direction, is OAC headquarters. And dead ahead down Rue Jubilation, through a grove of beautiful, century-old elm trees, is the capitol building, its glass structure arcing gracefully against the sky. The city’s most famous monument, a maze of trellises and hanging gardens arranged in the shape of a sunflower, the symbol of the Okarian Sector, is at the end of Rue Jubilation. This park is one of the best places to eavesdrop on the wealthy and privileged citizens of Okaria—and those who serve them. Nearly everyone who works at one of those buildings will pass through this park at some point during the day.
    It’s an unseasonably chilly day for so late in spring. This works in my favor, giving me an excuse to wear a thick scarf and pull my hood up over my hair. Even so, I can’t risk walking outside without my disguising makeup on, especially if I want to loiter here. Reunion Park is the closest I dare come to the places I used to know as well as the back of my hand, and even here, I feel like I’m walking on the edge of a knife.
    It’s worth the risk. Under the guise of sketching on my plasma, I’ve been listening in to the conversations of the rich and powerful all day. I’ve only caught snippets, but it’s been enough to get a feel for the mood of the city. From what I can tell, most people still think of Vale as a celebrity. They’re curious about what happened to him, and how he’s recovering from his time as a hostage of the Resistance. Many believe that the Orleáns are holding back pieces of the story, but everyone seems confident that all will be revealed in time. The prevailing attitude is that since Vale has been