“Tell me some good news.” The robot clapped its silver hands. “What have we learned from the outside?”
“Atlas tried to blackmail me into crying by hurting Filiz.”
The robot squinted. “How exactly was that supposed to work?”
“It wasn’t,” she said. “He thought I cared for her. He doesn’t know what love and devotion are.”
“Typical male?”
Solon was testing her.
“You asked me once what would happen if I allowed myself to feel joy,” Eureka said. “Now I know. Delphine’s feelings possess the same power as mine. I saw her weep with happiness”—she lowered her voice—“and her tear brought Brooks back to life.”
“Where’s Brooks?” Claire asked.
“It can’t be,” Ander said.
Ovid closed its eyes. Solon’s voice said, “I never knew if the rumor was true. Tearline joy is so rare. Out of curiosity, what was it that brightened that dark heart?”
Eureka’s cheeks flushed. “I called her ‘Mother.’ ”
“So simple.” Ovid rubbed its jaw. “Love never ceases to amaze me. Well, all you have to do is …”
“I know, cry a joyful tear to resurrect each of the billions of people I’ve killed,” she said glumly. “And I have until sunrise.”
“Sounds like a busy night, even for a party animal like you.” The robot squinted at her. “You know, before now I had never considered how insignificant your eyes are.”
“Thanks.”
“For a girl whose tears do what yours do, your eyes are really very ho-hum. One begins to wonder—does it even need to be your eyes that shed the tears?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m about to say something important, something I can recognize only now that I’m liberated from my wretched mortal form. This body”—it rapped softly on Eureka’s wounded chest—“doesn’t matter. If I were you, I’d give it up.”
“And where do you propose she finds another?” Ander asked.
The robot leaned back on the lounge and cradled its head in its hands. It crossed its feet and put them on Eureka’s lap. “Where Atlas would feel it most.”
“I told you, I don’t think Atlas can feel.” Eureka paused to consider what she’d just said. She touched her neck, which used to connect her to Diana and the most primal love Eureka had ever felt. It was bare now. “That’s it.”
“What?” Ander said.
“Delphine told me Atlas’s heart wasn’t tuned for love,” Eureka said.
“That sounds like something you say when the person you love doesn’t love you back,” Ander said. His tone pleaded for her to meet his eyes, to deny that she didn’t love him. But she wouldn’t.
“She was speaking literally,” Eureka said. “Atlas’s heart is out of tune.”
“Is Atlas a robot like Ovid?” William asked.
“I don’t think so,” Eureka said, “but his heart was another one of Delphine’s experiments. She did something to remove love from his range. If I can possess Atlas the way he possessed Brooks, the way he tried to possess you”—she looked at Ander—“if I can make him feel joy, make him cry with love, it would destroy him.”
Ander studied her closely. “You used to want to redeem yourself, to fix the world. Now all you care about is killing Atlas? Do you know what it would mean to go inside him?”
“Her redemption and his death are tantamount,” Solon said. “If Eureka succeeds in making Atlas weep with joy—she is right—the tears would be formidable.”
“Powerful enough to reverse the Filling,” Esme said in a quiet voice that suggested even the intimidating gossipwitch was sickened by Atlas and Delphine’s plan.
“But what about her?” Eureka murmured. If Delphine was the darkness inside Atlas’s shadow, she was the true enemy. She always had been.
“That is the question I’ve been waiting for,” Solon said.