one line.”
Her brows knitted. “What’s the message?”
Alex sat up and stared at the screen. “It’s a code.”
She hopped off the table to take a look. The cursor blinked at the end of the line. “29 Alpha Alpha 30 Romeo Delta? That’s the whole message?” Two opposing emotions hit her at once. First, disappointment. What had she expected? That her father would send her a personal goodbye note telling her how much he loved her? They hadn’t talked in years. Then, confusion. Why go to all this trouble for such a worthless bit of information? “This is stupid. This can’t possibly mean anything important to anyone.”
Everett came up behind her. His expression went from curious to somber. He turned his back and walked away.
“Everett?”
He paused and sighed. “It’s a code, Samantha. Probably a failsafe. Your father likely programmed it into everything he designed.” His shoulders slumped. “Even me.”
She watched him walk out the door and didn’t know what to say. Suddenly she felt guilty for being human. She turned to Alex for answers. “What exactly does he mean?”
Alex shoved his hands in his pockets. “If the code is what he thinks it is, it can shut down every mechanoid on the planet with one simple command.”
“Oh.” Well that didn’t seem fair. But then one turned off a toaster by unplugging it, so what was the big deal? Mechanoids didn’t have emotions. What a silly notion. She shook her head and sighed. “Are we done here?” Alex nodded. “I’m going to go look for Everett.”
“I suggest you try the roof. He likes to go there to think sometimes.”
She turned to leave.
“And Miss Gold. I wouldn’t leave the compound if I were you. The person who’s after this information is very dangerous. He doesn’t know we have extracted it. He’ll still be after you.”
A shudder rippled across her shoulders. As much as she wanted to go home, he was right. The place was no longer safe. In fact, no place would be safe for long now. “Thanks, Dad,” she muttered under her breath. “Thanks for ruining my life.”
Everett sat on the hard triple-layer concrete roof under the protective bubble of the security shield and wondered for the first time what it would be like to die. To jump off the roof and not land on his feet but instead let himself crumple into a heap and scatter into a million different parts. Sure, he’d lost consciousness before—some of the upgrades demanded he experience temporary mental acuity downtime—but he always knew he’d wake up on the table. He simply had no concept of what ceasing to exist actually meant. He tried turning down his screens and active processes and sitting there unmoving for a few seconds. But it didn’t really give him the whole picture. It didn’t feel permanent or life changing. He slumped a little lower.
The door to the roof opened and Samantha came through. He could tell it was her by her smell but also her footsteps. Her breathing. The heat signature of her heart. Samantha was warm and fleshy and human. All those things he’d never be. Sadness never tasted so bitter. It felt like a spike through his heart.
“Everett?” Samantha sat down beside him on the edge of the roof. “Are you okay?”
He snorted. “For a dead man you mean? I’m fine.” Again he imagined himself floating downward and then crashing to pieces, ceasing to exist.
Samantha’s voice raised an octave. “A dead man? Everett, what are you talking about?”
He gave a rueful laugh and shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not even technically alive.”
She brushed the hair out of her face and he found himself staring at her lips, remembering how soft and plush they’d felt under his. He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms to ease this ache. Bad idea. She hates tech, remember? He stood and walked toward the opposite end of the building. His heart raced when she followed.
“Look, Everett. I don’t understand why this has you
Margaret Weis;David Baldwin