Michael stood still, trembling with anger. And he stared harder into her eyes. Oh man, how he missed his friends. He could do this, he could handle this moment—right there and then—if only Bryson were sitting on the cot, making jokes. If Sarah were by his side, holding his hand.
“One more thing before I go,” Weber said. “And this is very important.” She paused, looking left and right, then back at Michael. “You can never destroy a human intelligence. Nor a programmed intelligence. Do you understand me? They’re stored. All of them. Both human and Tangent. The Decay may scramble them a bit, but they still exist. They can be put back together. This is going to …” She seemed to search her mind for the right way to say something. “I think it will make all the difference in the struggle ahead. If things are ever going to be made right.”
That made the other stuff go away for a second. Although he couldn’t imagine why she was telling him this, it made him think something that he was scared to ask. But he did anyway.
“Not that I can believe a word you’ve said,” he said, “but are you trying to tell me that my parents—my real parents, my Tangent parents—are still alive? And that Jackson Porter is still alive? That somebody figured out how to download a human’s mind?”
Weber took a step back and once again looked to the left, then the right, then back at Michael.
“Things will get worse before they get better,” she said. “But I do believe that they can and will get better. Goodbye, Michael.”
He didn’t bother yelling for her to wait this time. It would do no good.
Her high heels tapped their staccato rhythm as she disappeared down the hall.
They’d taken away most of his access but allowed him an EarCuff, with very limited ability to use the Net. Some entertainment. Simple games. Even criminals got that in a world where reality just wasn’t enough.
He lay on the cot and stared at the NetScreen absently, the glowing green plane mostly blank. His thoughts swam with all the things he’d heard from his two visitors. So much information. So much strange information. The VNS had created Kaine? His family and Helga might still be out there? Just as he’d dared hope.
His mind could barely handle it all. He missed the world outside his cell. Wondered what was going to happen. Worried. About everything.
But mostly, right that second, he missed his friends.
A little blip of light caught his attention on the NetScreen.
He looked, but it had disappeared.
A few seconds later, it flashed again, white against green. Then gone.
He watched and waited.
Another blip—this time it lasted longer.
And then two words appeared, as crisp and bright as if they’d been there forever.
I’m here. S.
Michael’s chest swelled. His mind relaxed. His heart softened.
Sarah.
Only she had the guts and compassion to do what she’d just done. Seemingly simple, but he knew how much effort it had taken, and doubted he could do it back. They were being watched like hawks. But he’d sure try.
Sarah. She was there, and for now, that would have to do.
He started working on a response. It took him an hour to break through the heavy fortifications of the prison systems without being detected. But he wouldn’t let himself sleep until he’d done the deed. Finally he sent the message, then lay back to get some desperately needed sleep. What he’d sent seemed appropriate—they were, after all, gamers when it all came down to it. The message floated in his thoughts and dreams like a beacon for the rest of the night.
We will win.
Two days later, Michael received his third visitor. Except this time, no cop came to announce him. A series of buzzes and a rattling of metallic clicks echoed through the halls of the jail. Michael had been lying on his bunk, but at the strange noises he sat up and strained to listen. Heavy footsteps, getting closer. A door in the bars of the cell creaked open several inches. Then a man walked in and stood there like he owned the place.
“Come on, Michael,” the newcomer said. “Your prison days are over.”
It was Sarah’s dad. Gerard.
Michael swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to speak, but no words came out. Surely he was dreaming.
“Or … you can take a nap before we go.” It took a second for Michael to even get the sarcasm, confused at why he’d go back to sleep when his cell door stood wide open.
“Michael,” Gerard said forcefully. “Get up. We’re leaving.”
“Okay,” he managed to squeak out, standing, hurrying over to Sarah’s dad. “Okay. But …”
“Yeah. I know. Things aren’t a whole lot less confusing for me, either. Let’s just go.”
Michael nodded, then followed Gerard out of the cell, down the hallway, noticing that all the doors stood open. The prison was almost empty.
“Sarah,” Michael said. “Bryson. Where are they?”