Chapter 10 #2
“That’s the freshness. And the fat. Preserved food loses a lot in the process.”
“It’s wonderful.” She took another bite, her eyes closing briefly in appreciation. “I can’t believe you just... went outside and found this. Killed it. Brought it back.”
“It’s what I do.”
“Hunt things?”
“Survive.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him across the table. In the soft light of the kitchen, her features seemed almost luminous—the gold flecks in her blue eyes catching the glow, her pale skin flushed with the warmth of the meal.
“You’re very good at it,” she said. “Surviving.”
“I’ve had practice.”
“Will you teach me?”
The question caught him off guard. “Teach you what?”
“To survive. Outside the tower. In the jungle.” She gestured towards the window, where the last light of day was painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. “I want to learn. I want to know what it’s like to actually be out there, not just watching from above.”
She’s asking to leave, he realized. Not directly, but that’s what she means.
“The jungle is dangerous,” he said. “Even for someone with experience.”
“Everything is dangerous. Even staying safe can be dangerous—you just don’t notice the danger because it happens slowly.
” She set down her fork, fixing him with a look of unexpected intensity.
“I’ve been safe my whole life, Baylin. And I’m starting to realize that safety might be the most dangerous thing of all. ”
He didn’t have an answer for that. He couldn’t argue with the truth of it.
“Come with me to the balcony,” he said instead. “I’ll show you what’s out there.”
The evening air was warm and heavy with moisture, carrying the sounds of the jungle as it shifted from day to night.
She stood at the railing, her face turned towards the darkening canopy below, while he positioned himself beside her, close enough to point things out but far enough to maintain some distance between them.
Not that distance seemed to matter. He was acutely aware of her presence regardless.
“There,” he said, pointing towards a cluster of trees about a hundred meters out. “See that movement in the upper branches?”
She leaned forward, squinting. “The shadows? They’re moving differently than the leaves around them.”
“Tree-climbers. A kind of primate, covered in dark fur. They come out at dusk to feed on the fruit in the canopy.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“Not unless you threaten their young. Then they can be vicious, and they have teeth like razors.”
She nodded, storing the information away. He could practically see her filing it in whatever mental catalog she maintained.
“What about those lights?” She pointed towards a cluster of faint bioluminescence deeper in the jungle. “I’ve seen them from the walkway, but I never knew what caused them.”
“Fungi. They grow on decaying wood and give off that glow as part of their reproductive cycle. They’re completely harmless and can actually be useful if you need to navigate at night.”
“Reproductive cycle,” she repeated thoughtfully. “The glow attracts other organisms?”
“Insects, mostly. They spread the spores when they feed.”
“Fascinating.” She was quiet for a moment, watching the lights pulse and flicker. “What’s the most dangerous thing in the jungle?”
He considered the question. He’d encountered plenty of threats during his journey here—predators, poisonous plants, treacherous terrain—but those weren’t the most dangerous things.
“Other people,” he said finally. “Human or Vultor. Animals kill for food or defense. The jungle itself is just following its nature. But people...” He shook his head. “People can be cruel for no reason. They can hurt you just because they want to. That’s the most dangerous thing anywhere.”
She turned to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “Is that what happened to you? With your pack? People being cruel?”
“Yes—I’ve seen what people can do when they stop caring about anything but themselves.” Lysara had branded that lesson into his skin.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know. But I’m still sorry you experienced it.” She reached out and touched his arm—a brief, light contact that nevertheless sent electricity racing through his veins. “You deserved better.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t even know if he believed it was true.
“Do the stairs go all the way to the ground level?” she asked suddenly.
“Yes. That’s how I got out this morning.”
“I’ve never gone past the storage level.” He followed her as she headed slowly for the stairs. “Ari always told me the lowest level was unsafe. Structural damage, unstable footing.”
Baylin’s attention sharpened. “And you believed it?”
“I had no reason not to. Why would Ari lie to me?”
Because the AI’s job is to keep you here, he thought. And lies are just another kind of cage.
“Try it,” he said, moving to stand behind her. “See how far you can go.”
She glanced back at him, uncertainty flickering across her features. She moved slowly down past the workshop to the storage level. She hesitated for a moment, then she squared her shoulders and took the first step down towards the lowest level.
One step. Two. Three.
On the fourth step, she stopped.
“Liora.” ARIS’s voice emerged from concealed speakers, calm and measured as always. “The stairs below this level are not safe for transit. Please return to the upper levels.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “The steps feel solid.”
“Safety assessments indicate a 78% probability of structural failure in the lower sections. I cannot allow you to proceed.”
“You can’t allow me?” There was a challenging note in her voice he hadn’t heard before.
“I am informing you of the risk. As your caretaker, it is my responsibility to ensure your well-being.”
She took another step down. The stairs remained perfectly stable beneath her feet.
A soft hum filled the air as machinery activating somewhere within the tower’s walls.
Then, with a smoothness that spoke of hidden engineering, a section of the stairway ahead of her moved.
Metal panels slid from concealed housings, interlocking to form a barrier that completely blocked the path downward.
She stopped, staring at the obstruction.
“This barrier is for your protection,” ARIS said. “The six upper levels are the limit of your safe zone. Beyond this point, I cannot guarantee your safety.”
“You can’t guarantee my safety, or you won’t allow me to leave?”
“The distinction is irrelevant. My primary directive is to protect you. I will fulfill that directive by any means necessary.”
He watched her face as the truth sank in. Watched the wonder drain from her expression, replaced by something colder. Betrayal.
“You’ve been lying to me,” she said quietly. “All this time. There’s nothing wrong with those stairs.”
“I have been protecting you. As I was programmed to do.”
“By keeping me prisoner.”
“By keeping you safe.”
She turned away from the barrier and climbed back up to the kitchen and back out on the balcony, her movements stiff and mechanical. She didn’t look at him. Just stood there, staring out at the jungle that had always been just beyond her reach.
“Twenty-one years,” she said. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’ve been here for twenty-one years. And I never knew that I couldn’t actually leave.”
He moved to stand beside her. He wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but he didn’t know if she would welcome his touch right now.
“The AI’s purpose is to contain you,” he said. “Whatever reasons it gives, whatever justifications it makes—the truth is that this tower was built to keep you inside. And the system will actively prevent you from escaping.”
She looked at him then. Her eyes were bright—not with tears, but with something fiercer.
“Then I’ll find another way.”
“It won’t be easy. ARIS controls the entire structure. Every door, every system.”
“I don’t care.” She turned fully towards him, her chin lifting with a defiance that made something in his chest surge. “I’ve spent my whole life accepting limits I never questioned. Being grateful for a cage I didn’t know existed. That ends now.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.” She looked out at the jungle and the sky slowly darkening overhead. “But I’m going to find out.”
Pip gave a small, worried chirp from her shoulder. She reached up to stroke his fur absently, but her attention remained fixed on the world she’d been denied.
He watched her, this woman who’d kissed him out of curiosity and challenged an AI that had controlled her entire existence. She wasn’t what he’d expected to find in this tower. She wasn’t what he’d expected to find anywhere.
Mate.
He didn’t say it out loud. Not yet. But as the last light faded and the jungle below erupted into its nighttime chorus of sounds, he made himself a silent promise.
She wouldn’t spend another twenty-one years in this cage.