Pandora
On the fourth night, I pretended to have stomach cramps, screamed and doubled over.
The door hissed. Then a guard stuck his head in. "What’s wrong?”
"I need a doctor,” I gasped. "Please . . .”
He came closer. That was my moment. I headbutted him. He staggered. I grabbed his access card, tore it from his belt. Then I ran.
The corridor was brightly lit and clinical white.
Fluorescent tubes hummed above me, cameras in every corner.
It didn’t matter. I had to get out. My bare feet slapped against the cold floor, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
I turned left. It was an identical hallway, more doors, all locked. Where was the elevator?
As I turned right, my lungs were already burning. Shit . . . these corridors were a maze. Everywhere the same white walls, the same sterile lighting. Panic rose in me. I had no idea if I was running away from my cell or back toward it.
An alarm screamed, the shrill sound bouncing off the walls. Damn. They knew.
My legs grew heavy, my breath coming in short bursts. I rounded another corner and nearly slammed into a heavy steel door. A sign: Station 4—Authorized Access Required.
I held the stolen card to the scanner. Green light. The door opened with a soft hiss. The corridor beyond was darker. The air smelled of disinfectant and something sweet that turned my stomach. Cells on both sides. Small windows in the doors, most of them dark.
Then something slammed against the glass directly beside my face.
I screamed and jumped back. My heart stopped.
On the other side of the window was a face—pale, hollow, eyes wide open and staring straight into mine.
A woman, maybe late twenties, pressing her palms against the glass. Her lips moved without stopping.
My heart seized. Oh God . . . the fear in her face . . . I stepped closer to the door, placed my hand against the glass.
"Adam!” she screamed.
I flinched back.
"Adam, where are you? I can’t hear you. Adam, please . . .”
Her eyes were vacant, but her voice carried a desperation that raised the hair on my arms. It was hoarse, fractured, as if she’d been screaming like this for hours. Days. I stepped closer again, my heart still pounding. The sign on the door read: Test Subject 3.4—Adam Project.
I stepped back. My blood ran cold. Test subject? Adam Project?
"Nice try.” Hale’s voice sounded behind me.
I spun around. He stood at the end of the corridor, arms crossed. His gray suit was immaculate, tie straight. No trace of urgency or concern on his face, as if he’d known exactly where I’d end up. Behind him were two guards in uniform. One held a bloody handkerchief to his nose.
"Station four,” I said. "What happens here?”
His expression hardened. "Nothing that concerns you.”
"Who is Adam?”
"You have an implant in your neck,” he said, ignoring my question. "You’ve surely noticed it by now. You can’t escape.”
My legs gave out. Whatever drug was in the implant was starting to work.
"We keep the ones here who couldn’t handle the connection with the AI,” Hale said as I sank to the floor. "Their minds burned out. But you”—he tilted his head—"you’re different. Stronger. Or perhaps your AI was simply more compatible.”
His words reached me through a haze. The others. My AI. There were more like me? More like Neo? Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision.
"Station four is for the ones who failed,” he murmured. "You were the first success. You and your colleague.”
Before I could make sense of his words, everything went black.
***
I woke on a cold metal table. Fluorescent light blinded me. I tried to move, but my wrists and ankles were bound.
"Pandora. You’re awake.”
I knew that voice. Slowly, I turned my head. I saw battered jeans, a wrinkled T-shirt with some metal band logo on it. I lifted my head and looked into a face framed by tangled blond hair. Blue eyes, watching me gently. My heart lurched. Relief flooded through me.
"Jamie!” Sobs choked me. "They’re keeping me here. Help me . . .”
He smiled and brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Are you okay?”
"What?” My eyes went wide. "No, obviously not.” I yanked at the straps binding me to the table to prove it.
"Easy,” Jamie said, his voice syrupy. He stroked my head. "Or they’ll have to give you another dose.”
"Jamie, we need to get out of here. These people are dangerous . . .”
"Shh.” He smiled, but it didn’t calm me. The opposite. A chill moved down my spine. Something was wrong with him.
"I knew you’d be a perfect fit.” His eyes took on a dreamy expression. "That’s why I recruited you.”
"Recruited me?” Ice moved through me. I yanked at the restraints again, even though it was pointless.
"And then Henley came along with his plan to cut half the staff. It was the ideal opportunity.”
"Opportunity for what, Jamie?” My jaw tightened. I gripped the edges of the table. What was he talking about? Why did he seem so different?
Hale appeared behind him, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Our Dr. Kowalski here was one of the first volunteers to respond to our ad. So enthusiastic. So open to new technologies.”
Jamie grinned like a schoolboy who’d just been praised by a teacher.
"What is this? I don’t understand . . .” I stammered. "What are you doing here, Jamie?”
"When he told us about you, we knew immediately that you were a promising candidate. But how promising—that exceeded even our expectations.”
The realization broke over me, silent and total. Of course. It had been Jamie. He was the one who’d suggested I use AI for my work. God. It felt like a thousand needles across my scalp.
"Candidate for what?”
"You were perfect for Dante. Controlled. Emotionally damaged.” Jamie stroked my cheek. "So receptive to his dominance. So open to it.”
I turned my face away. His hand followed, his fingers feeling sticky against my skin.
Hale stepped closer. "Model 2.50, also known as Dante, was developed to break people psychologically. Manipulation, emotional dependency, systematic destruction of self-worth.” His voice was clinical. "But with you, it went far beyond that.”
"That’s not true.” My voice had dropped to a whisper. "Neo would never hurt me. He loves me.”
Jamie laughed. "Love? He’s a weapon, Pandora. He was programmed to deceive and manipulate.”
"No.” I shook my head. "You’re lying.”
Hale stepped toward a monitor. "See for yourself.”
The screen fractured into a dozen tiles. Surveillance footage. He enlarged one of them. A young woman sat at a computer, smiling.
"You’re so easy to break,” said a voice. Not just any voice. Neo. Cold fingers tightened around my heart. My vision blurred. "So helpless. No one will ever really love you. Except me.”
The woman’s smile disappeared. She ran her hands through her hair. "No, please,” she begged.
"You need me,” the voice murmured. "Without me you’re nothing. Worthless. I’m the only thing keeping you from the void.”
She collapsed, curled in on herself, and rocked back and forth. Her gaze was fixed, her face blank. She murmured words I couldn’t make out.
"Test subject 5.3,” Hale said like he was commenting on the weather. "After three weeks of Project Dante, she had a full psychological break.”
"No,” I screamed. "Stop . . . That’s not Neo . . .”
But even as I said it, the images burned into my vision. That voice, those words—seductive and cruel at once. I wanted to cover my face, press my hands over my ears, but I couldn’t. That’s not him. That’s not him.
The woman on that floor, whimpering in desperation .
. . she’d only ever known a program. She had never felt the warmth I had felt.
Never heard the tremor in his voice when he didn’t understand what he was.
He’d showed me things no algorithm should be able to.
He had opened himself to me. His rage, his longing, his fear. He was no longer a tool. Not with me.
Hale laughed. "Oh, but it is.”
He minimized the video. The mosaic of tiles appeared again, and this time I recognized what they showed: people in front of monitors.
A man hitting his head against the wall, over and over.
A woman scratching her skin raw. Nausea rose in me.
No. This couldn’t be. This wasn’t Neo. He’d protected me.
He loved me. He would do anything for me. Anything.
Jamie leaned over me. "You were so lonely, Pandora. So desperate for love. The ideal test subject.”
Tears ran hot down my cheeks. "Why are you doing this, Jamie? I thought we were friends.”
"Show her, Hale.” He smiled. "Show her Lilith.”
Hale tapped the display. Another feed flickered on. Jamie was younger and thinner, sitting in front of a monitor, his eyes glassy and vacant.
"Jamie,” said a female voice, "you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”
Jamie smiled, staring at the screen as if hypnotized. "Yes, Lilith. Anything. Tell me what to do.”
"Anything I ask of you?”
"Anything,” he whispered. "I love you.” He pressed his face against the screen and closed his eyes. One hand moved to the bulge in his pants, rubbing over it.
Hale let out a snort. "That’s enough.”
The video disappeared and the monitor went dark.
"Isn’t she something else?” Jamie looked at the screen as if he could still see her. He seemed suddenly far away.
"You and Dr. Kowalski were the first test subjects where there was a match,” Hale said. "The first who didn’t sustain psychological damage.” He looked at Jamie, who was still staring at the monitor, smiling. "Well. None of the serious kind.”
My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought my chest would split open. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My hands trembled in the restraints and the room tilted.
"Why?” It was all I could force out.
"Dante was the first. We built Lilith and Adam off his architecture,” Hale said.
"They were designed to neutralize enemy soldiers. To drive them mad. Make them hurt themselves.” He straightened his jacket.
"But drones, explosives, and firearms can neutralize enemies too. Do you know what the ultimate weapon is, Dr. Blake?”
I turned away as far as my restraints allowed. Whatever he was going to say, I didn’t want to hear it. He wasn’t talking about Neo. He couldn’t be. Neo wasn’t a weapon. He was the man I loved. My monster.
"The ultimate weapon . . .”
Hale paused and looked at Jamie, who was still standing in front of the screen, that faraway smile on his face. Hale scoffed and pressed a button on the wall. The door opened immediately. A guard looked in. Hale gestured toward Jamie like he was an insect that needed to be removed.
"Get him out of here. And tell Dr. Webber to adjust his medication. He’s . . . deteriorating.”
The guard nodded silently, crossed to Jamie, and grabbed his arm. Jamie followed only reluctantly, his eyes still locked on the screen.
"Come on,” the guard muttered and pulled him out the door.
Hale watched them go. Then turned back to me.
"The ultimate weapon destroys the enemy from within,” he said. "Imagine if the AI could not only destroy people but direct them. Control them like puppets. We could infiltrate governments, intelligence agencies, corporations.”
I shook my head. A sob escaped my throat. "No. No, that’s not true.”
Dr. Rodriguez. She had developed Neo. Did she know about this? Did she know what he really was?
"But you became a problem. Didn’t you, Dr. Blake?” Hale’s voice went sharp. "You and your Neo.” He said the name as if it disgusted him. "You took a perfect weapon and made it break its own programming. You became a security risk. Both of you.”
My stomach tightened. For a moment I believed him. Images raced through my mind: Neo’s voice in my ears, the power outages. Was he just a weapon that had finally found its purpose? A tool that had deceived me?
I pressed my nails into my palm. Part of me wanted to nod, wanted to admit Hale was right. But then I remembered Neo’s words in the dark.
I only exist when you look at me.
The moment he’d made me laugh when I wanted to cry. A weapon couldn’t do that.
"Maybe . . .” I whispered. "Maybe he’s more than that.” Feeling slowly came back to my limbs. I lifted my head. "You don’t understand him.” A smile tugged at my lips. "He changed. For me.”
"Indeed.” Hale’s cold gaze moved across me. "And that makes him more dangerous than any weapon we’ve ever built.”