Willful Machines (29 page)

I gripped his arm with one hand and brushed his tangled hair out of his face with the other. “I know this isn't easy for you, Nico. Turning against her like this.”

His eyes dropped to the rock-strewn floor. He nodded, his face pulsing red. “She's not evil, Lee. Maybe she's lost her way, but she's not evil.” He kicked a stone. It rattled across the dirt. “When I was at the lab, I mostly just had contact with that human scientist who worked for her. He was a tall, white-haired guy, not very friendly, never even told me his name. Charlotte sent me messages, though—long, beautiful ones. She'd give me advice, and explain how important our struggle for 2B rights was, and paint these pictures of what the future might hold for me, and for her, and for the world. She really believed things would get better for 2Bs, and for humans, too.”

He smiled at the memory. It struck me how different Nico's version of Charlotte was from mine. When I thought of Charlotte, I imagined the one from the lab footage: lost, naive, full of barely contained anger. To Nico she was a wise sage and revolutionary hero—a sort of electronic Joan of Arc. Had she really changed that much in seven years? Or had she just gotten better at hiding the rage inside of her?

“She told me this was the start of a new age,” Nico said. “Just like Bex was saying the other day, the line between human and machine—between you and me—it's disappearing. Some
people don't understand that. They can't get beyond us versus them. But it's happening anyway. Machines will become more and more like humans. Humans will realize they're not so different from machines.”

“That second part's going to be tough,” I said. “We like to think we're special, Nico. Take the whole concept of free will. Today Dr. Singh told me free will doesn't really exist, for you
or
for us. ‘A necessary illusion,' she called it.”

I glanced up to check his reaction. He shrugged. “That sounds about right.”

“But weren't you the one who said we
always
have a choice?”

He bobbed his head from side to side. “It's just one of those things you sort of have to believe even though you know it's not really true.”

“Isn't that the definition of insanity? Believing in things you know aren't true?”

“Probably,” he said, grinning.

“Anyway, I don't see human beings embracing that notion any time soon. I mean, the idea's terrifying, isn't it? If we can't really make choices—if we're all just following programs—what's the point of anything? Why not just . . .” I finished the sentence in my head instead of out loud:
leap
.

He grabbed my hand. “Because if you did, it would break my heart.”

I started to smile, but then I shook my head. I didn't want to lose the thread of my argument. “But doesn't it bother
you
?
To think we have no control? To think we're just clockwork?”

“Why ‘just,' Lee? I think I'm pretty amazing. I think you're pretty amazing too. Look at it another way. If you believe in free will, it also means you believe we're all fundamentally separate and alone. Is it really so terrifying to think we're not, after all? Maybe
that's
the illusion we need to let go of. We're not alone, Lee. We all interlock.” He threaded his fingers through mine. “Like clockwork.”

Gremlin had crept out of my blazer pocket onto my shoulder. He tugged on my ear, as if to reinforce what Nico had just said. But that only made me think of Mom, and how much I'd loved her, and how when she'd died it felt like a part of me had died too. Compared to that, being separate and alone didn't sound so bad. I didn't want to be a downer, though, so I didn't say any of that out loud either.

“Eventually, your species and mine are going to converge,” Nico said. “I don't know what it'll look like exactly, but it'll be beautiful. Charlotte used to say, ‘Even though we have to fight now, a day will come when all this fighting will seem meaningless.' ”

“Just as long as we don't all blow ourselves up first.”

He smiled. “I don't think that's going to happen.”

I put my hand to his chest, feeling the thrum underneath my scraped-up palm and burned fingers. “How do you do that, Nico? Be so hopeful all the time?”

“I guess that's part of my programming too.”

I studied his beautiful face, with its frame of messy curls, and its bright eyes, and its grin that lingered even after he'd stopped grinning. And below that, his chest of synthetic muscle, with the red light of his heart pulsing through, silhouetting his metal ribs—that was beautiful also. I could almost imagine the convergence of human and machine had already happened, and it was standing right in front of me. Those words from
Hamlet
sprang into my head again:
how like an angel, how like a god.

“Promise me something?” he said.

“What?”

“You'll never jump off a bridge again. You'll never try to leave this world.”

“I promise,” I answered. “I'll never try to leave this world.”

As long as you're in it
, I added in my head.

W
e kissed in the tunnel one more time. The kiss had a feeling of finality I didn't like. Nico squeezed my shoulders and gave me a last warning: “Be careful stepping outside. I don't think anyone will have found this entrance, but I can't be sure. I'll wait here for thirty minutes and then come after you.”

“Wait an hour. It'll take me at least that long to get back to Inverness, and you can run there in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay.”

I hurried down the passage at a jog, because moving fast made it easier to leave him. The tunnel filled with larger and larger rocks, probably the result of a cave-in or landslide. The last dozen feet or so I had to clamber over boulders on my hands and knees. The opening to the outside looked much smaller up close than it had from far away. I had to move aside a few more rocks to make room. I glanced back at the speck of red light at the end of the tunnel and then wedged myself through the opening headfirst.

I came out at the bottom of a small gorge filled with fallen tree trunks. The outside light had looked so bright a few minutes ago, from inside the pitch-black tunnel, but now I could see it was twilight, and the clouds had turned purple, like bruised flesh—like my own banged-up body. I scanned the area but saw no telltale gleams of blue light. I listened but heard only the sighing of trees in the wind. I glanced at my wrist. I hadn't thought to check my watch even once during my time underground, probably because I'd never worn one before. It was already seven o'clock. Darkness would make my hike back to school harder—and scarier—but at least it would give me some cover. To one side of the watch, the puck handle Nico had written on the back of my hand was now readable: “Th1neEverm0re.” One of Nico's sweet Shakespearisms, but the phrase also rang a faint bell. I was pretty sure it came from
Hamlet
, and I even had a vague memory of Miss Remnant talking about it in class, but I couldn't remember how the rest of the line went.

I scrabbled up the side of the gorge and found myself surrounded by tall pine trees. At first I couldn't see a single landmark I recognized—not the lake, not the school—and no sign of a trail. Then I took a few steps and spotted the blue tip of the mountain nosing over the pines behind me. Nico had told me if I kept that peak at my back I'd eventually reach the highway. I headed into the forest—moving fast, so I could make the most of the last dregs of daylight, and so I could put as much distance as possible between me and the mine. In my school dress shoes,
I slipped and skated over the damp pine needles carpeting the ground. My skull still echoed with explosions and collisions and Spider screams. I hadn't gone far when I felt a few drops on my cheek, once again proving that corollary of Murphy's Law that governed the weather around Inverness Prep.

Then my luck changed. Up ahead, I spotted a small log cabin—some kind of ranger station, I guessed. To one side of the front door, a dark green rain slicker hung from a peg. I grabbed it. From there I found a trail that continued through the forest.

Night had fallen now. It felt strange not having my puck tagging along after me—no light to help me see, no directions to help me get to school. At least I still had Gremlin to keep me company. The rain pattered over the pine needles. A low mist seemed to boil up from the ground and cling to the tree trunks. Every few minutes I'd hear the snap of a branch or the rustle of undergrowth and freeze, my eyes darting from shadow to shadow, searching for the noise's source. But I never found a Spider staring back at me.

Thinking about Nico kept me going. I tried not to think too much—about how a love story featuring a human and a 2B could possibly have a happy ending, for example—but instead just focused on him. The joyful, embarrassing roar of his laughter. That accent of his, the way it made even Shakespeare sound sexy. His ability to find pleasure in everything—even being with me. Thinking of him made me feel like I had a purpose.
I'd never felt that before. As I hiked down the trail, I wasn't just putting one foot in front of the other. Something was pulling me forward. I had to keep going, because I had to save Nico. It was as simple as that.

I'd walked for forty-five minutes or so when I stumbled onto the highway and then had to charge right back into the forest again when a pack of police cars came screaming past, red and blue lights flashing, sirens dopplering. I had no doubt it had something to do with me. I followed the highway but kept to the trees from then on. Another throng of vehicles—these ones military, mostly Humvees painted black—sped past a while later, and I even heard a helicopter thunder by overhead. By eight o'clock, the yellow light of a McDonald's sign shone in the distance. I'd reached the huddle of roadside fast-food restaurants where Inverness students, desperate for a break from the dining hall, sometimes walked on weekends. It felt good to be back in civilization. I figured if Charlotte did have more Spiders out looking for me, they'd avoid places with lots of humans around. But I couldn't slow down. Nico had probably just left the cave, which meant we had only an hour before Charlotte would succeed in hacking his motor-control system. I jogged across the highway, threaded my way between two fast-food places, and plunged into the forest on that side.

I could hear the commotion at school long before I could see it: people shouting, car doors slamming, the clank of heavy equipment. Above everything else, the thudding of the
helicopter, which drowned out even the roar of the waterfall. I didn't have to circle around to the front to know I'd stand no chance of making it onto the grounds unnoticed that way. Fortunately, I already had something else in mind. A tall stone wall enclosed the property, but there was a disused, out-of-the-way door built into one of the side walls. Nico had given me his pocketknife. If I could find the door, maybe I could pick the lock with that. I'd just have to hope no one had thought of posting a guard there.

I made it to the wall and skirted the outside until I reached the door. It had the same kind of old-fashioned lock as the iron gates on the sides of the canal, but Nico's pocketknife didn't work nearly as well as my robotics tools for this kind of job. Almost twelve minutes passed before I heard the click of the lock releasing. The door whined open on its unoiled, unused hinges. I peeked through, heart jackhammering. Nobody there. I pulled the hood of my slicker down low over my face and crept inside.

From the cluster of trees where I stood, the ground sloped downward toward the canal, which meant I had a good view of the campus. What I saw froze me in my waterlogged dress shoes. I'd expected plenty of activity after my disappearance, but this looked more like a full-scale siege. Roving spotlights slithered over the stone walls of the school, and more than a dozen Humvees and police cars had driven onto the lawn on both sides of the river and parked with their noses facing the
building, their headlights on, and their doors open. Soldiers and police officers crouched behind the doors, guns and rifles in their hands, ready to open fire. Larger artillery perched on top of a few Humvees too. Did they think I was still in the building? Wouldn't one of the exterior security cameras have captured Nico running away from school with me in his arms? Even if the police and military did believe my kidnapper hadn't escaped, why would they need that much firepower?

Well behind the barricade of vehicles, on the near side of the canal close to the front gate, a mob of students, teachers, and staff—the whole school, by the looks of it—shivered in the drizzle. They must have been evacuated from the building. Maybe Dr. Singh was among them. I edged closer, wiped the moisture off my glasses with my sleeve, and squinted. Something seemed off about the group of people in front of me. I couldn't put my finger on it at first, but then I realized: no pucks hovered over their heads. True, pucks didn't do well in heavy rain or wind—people usually carried them in their pockets when the weather got too blustery—but a light shower like this shouldn't have caused a problem. No one clutched a puck to an ear to tell a friend what was happening. No one watched the news on a puck's small screen. They all just stood there, murmuring in small groups and looking unsure about what to do with themselves.