Chapter 27 #2
“Because AI is predictable. You can hack it, pattern-match it, counterprogram it. Human consciousness brings unpredictability and intuition—the ability to adapt, improvise, sense things that can’t be coded.
Human instincts are valuable, and the ability to control them is even more so.
” He pauses, his expression darkening. “And let’s not forget the real implications of successful consciousness transfer—it means the oligarchs can theoretically rule and live forever. That’s the real end goal.”
Bloody hell. I’d never even thought about that, about how someone like Conrad Marsh or Julia Van Veen or the next asshole politician could actually live forever, that the world would never be free of them. The realization is so terribly heavy, I feel my shoulders sink.
Good lord, is that what they plan to do with Elron Masters?
The dude glances around, as if someone might be listening. “They have already succeeded once. They have a prototype.”
“Who?” asks Kat, and I hold my breath.
“Paragon,” he practically spits out. “That’s my theory, anyway. He appeared out of nowhere—no origin story, no background, just suddenly Vanguard’s partner.”
“You think Paragon is synthetic?” Kat asks.
“I think he’s their proof of concept. First successful integration.
” He pauses, and something uncertain crosses his face.
“I can’t confirm it, of course—Global Dynamix keeps him locked down tighter than Vanguard.
But the timing fits. The way he moves, the way he speaks. There’s something off about him.”
He leans in, his voice lowering. “And if I’m right, then they know it works.
They want more, an army they can sell to the highest bidder—soldiers who follow orders without question because their loyalty can be programmed.
That’s what Kozlov is supplying minds and bodies for.
That’s why a lot of those detention centers from the Dark Decade never really shut down.
That’s why Kapoor had to disappear—he found the connection between the trafficking and the research, and he was going to blow the whole thing open. ”
I sit back, trying to process it all. Global Dynamix isn’t just experimenting on people against their will—they’re building weapons, synthetic soldiers with human minds, created through a process that kills the original.
And somewhere in that pipeline are Kozlov’s victims and who knows who else, people who thought they were escaping to a better life.
Instead, they became raw material for something monstrous.
Holy fuck.
“Does Vanguard know?” I ask abruptly. “About any of this?”
“I doubt it. He’s their golden boy, their public face. They wouldn’t risk contaminating him with the ugly details.” He starts gathering his things. “That’s everything I have. The rest is up to you.”
He’s gone before I can ask anything else, slipping into the red-lit darkness like he was never there.
Time’s up.
The walk back to the subway is silent. The autumn air nips at my nose, but I barely feel it. My mind keeps circling back to the same questions: How much does Nate know? How deep does the rot go?
“Mia.” Kat’s voice cuts through the spiral. “Talk to me.”
I stop walking. We’re on a deserted stretch of sidewalk, warehouses looming on either side, the distant rumble of the subway the only sound.
“They’re building a fucking army,” I say, unable to keep the hysteria out of my voice.
“Using trafficked people as test subjects. And Paragon—the hero who’s supposed to be Nate’s partner—is the first successful product.
I mean, it was so obvious, wasn’t it? Of course, he’s a robot; why didn’t I see that?
One programmed by Van Veen to do whatever the fuck she tells it to do. ”
“Well, not technically a robot if he has human consciousness,” she says.
“He’s all machine inside,” I point out. “That makes him a machine. That makes him a robot. The consciousness part is for what? To make him a better weapon somehow? But it doesn’t make him a human.
” I shake my head. “It’s fucking worse than we thought.
Global Dynamix isn’t just a corporation.
It’s a weapons manufacturer wearing a cape. ”
She gives me a steady look. “And Vanguard is the face of it all. Complicit.”
I shake my head again. “No. He doesn’t know.
I’m sure of it. The way he talks about Julia, about the company—he’s frustrated with them, yes, but he believes in the mission.
He thinks he’s actually helping people, and he is helping them, average, everyday people.
He believes in the greater good, a better tomorrow, all that golden boy, gee shucks bullshit because that’s who he really is deep inside.
” I press the heels of my hands against my eyes.
“He has no idea what’s happening in those labs.
What his partner really is. Fuck, if Paragon is all machine, he might be the only person in the world who can successfully kill Vanguard. ”
“Other than you,” she says quietly.
“Yes. Other than me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“About what?” I ask testily.
“That Vanguard has no idea about any of this.”
I drop my hands and stare at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, how well do you really know him? A few weeks of interviews. Some pillow talk. A trip to his childhood home.” Her voice isn’t cruel, but I hate it anyway. “People hide things, Mia, especially people with power. Especially people with handlers.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. But something in me rebels against the idea that Nate could be complicit in this. The man who told me about his mother, about Emma, about wanting to help save the world? That man isn’t capable of knowingly profiting from human trafficking and murder.
Is he?
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit. “If I tell him what we’ve found, I blow my cover. The mission ends, and we might never get close enough to bring Global Dynamix down.”
“And if you don’t tell him?”
“Then I keep lying to him. Keep sleeping with him. Keep pretending I’m just a journalist while his world burns down around him.”
“That’s the job, Mia,” she says lightly, as if she has any idea how fucking hard this all is. “I thought you would be used to this by now. Vanguard can’t be anything to you in the end. You’ll get over it.”
“What if I don’t want to get over it?” I explode, throwing my hands out.
“God, Kat, can’t you just be a fucking friend for a second?
Just for a second? Just try to understand what’s happening to me isn’t normal, that I never had the same luxury as you, to so easily discard people?
” I look away, trying to calm my heart. Everything feels so impossible.
“Don’t you ever get tired of it? The lying.
The pretending. Being someone else so constantly, you forget who you actually are? ”
Kat is quiet for a long moment. The wind picks up, carrying the smell of the river and distant rain.
“There was someone,” she says finally, to my surprise.
“Years ago. Before you. Assignment in Prague. He was a musician—played cello in the symphony there. I was supposed to be getting close to his roommate, who had connections to a Russian oligarch.” She pauses, and I turn to look at her.
“But I fell for him instead. Michal. He had these hands, these artist’s hands, you know?
And he used to play for me in his flat after everyone else had gone to sleep.
” A ghost of a smile appears as she speaks.
I’ve never heard her talk about anyone like this. Never heard her talk about anyone at all.
“What happened?”
“The mission ended. I got what we needed from the roommate, and London pulled me out.” Her voice is steady, but something in her eyes isn’t. “I left in the middle of the night. No note. No explanation. Just…poof. Gone. Like I’d never existed. I was a ghost—always was, always will be.”
“Did you ever see him again?”
“No. I looked him up once, a few years later. He’s married now. Has children. Plays in Berlin.” She shrugs, but the gesture doesn’t seem genuine. “He’s happy. That’s something.”
“But you’re not.”
“I’m…” She trails off, searching for the word. “I’m functional. That’s what we’re trained to be. Functional, useful. Good at our jobs.” She meets my eyes. “We don’t get to be happy, Mia. That’s not part of the deal.”
The words sit between us, heavy and true. You’d think I’d be used to that by now, but this last month has changed my life and made me question everything. Day by day, everything I thought was black-and-white is now shades of grey.
“So what do I do?” I ask. “About Vanguard. About all of it.”
“You do your job.” Her voice is gentle but firm. “You gather the intelligence, you write the report, you let the people above us make the hard calls. That’s the only way to survive this work without losing yourself completely.”
“And if I’ve already lost myself?” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer. We stand there in the dark, two women who’ve spent their lives becoming other people, and for a moment, the masks slip just enough to show what’s underneath. For just this minute, we are more than ghosts.
Then, Kat squares her shoulders, and the professional is back.
“Come on. We need to debrief Bayo before the night’s out. And you need to figure out how you can get closer to Paragon. Perhaps Vanguard knows more than you think he does.”
He doesn’t, I’m about to tell her again, but I stop.
Because now, I’m wondering if I’m not the only one being played here.