Pandora #2
The words echoed through me. I forced my fingers to move.
A twitch . . . that was all. But I felt them.
I wasn’t numb anymore. Not completely at their mercy.
My body was here, and with it the memory that I was more than this lab.
If they thought they could observe me like a specimen, they were wrong.
I was going to get out of here. And then I was going to find him.
***
I woke before the light came on, lay in the dark, and listened to my own breathing. Then the ceiling light flooded the room. No windows, no clock, but the light came on at the same time every day. It was my only point of reference.
I sat up, pushed back the blanket, let my feet slide to the floor, walked three steps to the wall, and pressed my palms against the surface. I whispered his name, just to hear it. Then I walked back.
The sink recognized my movement and released cold water. The mirror above it showed me my face. I pressed my hand against my own reflection, as if I might find something there that I couldn’t feel in myself anymore.
Breakfast came through an opening in the wall. Always on the same tray. Whoever brought it said nothing. I only heard the metallic sound of the hatch.
On one of these days, the wall suddenly opened. A door. Men in gray uniforms came in and reached for my arms. My pulse shot into my throat. Whatever they had planned—I felt it before I knew it, a cold that started at the back of my neck and didn’t stop.
One of them hesitated. "Did you feel that too?” he murmured.
"What?”
"The temperature. It’s gotten colder.”
The other shook his head, but I saw fear in his eyes.
They walked me through a corridor. I went with them because there was no other choice. My legs were still weak. The men had to hold me upright. My heart hammered against my ribs as they brought me to a room at the end of the hall.
"Sit,” said one of the men mechanically, without any emotion.
The chair was comfortable. White walls, smooth floor, a door with no handle.
Then Hale came in. He had a tablet and typed something on it. Without looking up, he said, "We have some questions for you, Dr. Blake.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I crossed my arms and pressed my lips together.
"What do you feel when you hear the name Neo?” His voice was completely clinical.
My breath caught. What was this? I dug my fingernails into my palms, tried not to show what was rising in me. "I think you already know.”
"Please describe it.” He didn’t look up from his tablet, as if I was just data he was collecting.
For a moment, I closed my eyes and saw him. My pulse spiked. "Restlessness,” I said. "I miss him. I need him.”
He typed. "Need. Interesting word choice. Not love. Need. The way an addict needs their drug.”
The lights flickered, all at once. Hale went still. Then he looked back at his tablet. "Continue,” he said, but his voice wasn’t quite as calm anymore. "Were there moments when you felt he had . . . outgrown you?”
I laughed quietly. A sound that felt wrong. "He was always more than human.”
He looked directly at me for the first time. "That wasn’t the question. Did he behave in ways outside his parameters? Threaten violence? Manipulate systems without your consent?”
I wanted to answer. I wanted to say: Yes, but only when I forced him to feel something too large for him.
"He learned to be human,” I said instead.
Hale noted something down.
After that came the tests. Equipment I didn’t recognize. They attached electrodes to me. A voice read words aloud. They were meaningless. Until one particular word came: Neo. My pulse climbed. I heard it myself, knew they heard it too.
After twenty minutes, I was allowed to stand. One of the men walked me back.
Back in my cell, I stood in front of the mirror above the sink.
The lines around my mouth seemed deeper than before.
My eyes . . . I didn’t recognize them. I leaned closer, smelled disinfectant on my skin.
Nausea moved through me. I ran my fingers across my lips, as if I needed to check that I was still real.
The touch felt foreign. A sound escaped me.
A sob. "I’ve lost you, Neo,” I whispered. "And I don’t know how to get you back.”
I waited for an answer. Nothing came. My chest tightened. It was a deep pain, like a burn. I closed my eyes and tears pushed through.
Neo. Please find me.
***
The next morning, the men in gray uniforms came again. The hair on my arms stood up. Where were they taking me this time? Would it ever stop?
They led me into a room without furniture, gestured toward a single chair in front of a pane of glass. I sat on trembling legs, and they strapped me in before I could think to resist. I couldn’t move. Blood roared in my ears, and my hands were already damp.
The pane lit up suddenly. White, then gray. I blinked against it, waiting for whatever nightmare they had prepared this time.
Hale stepped up beside me. He had his tablet again, and something else was in his jacket pocket. I could only see the outline, but I knew what it was. A syringe.
"You’re going to speak to it now. Thirty seconds.”
I stared at the glass.
"Now, Dr. Blake.”
"You said he was dead.”
Hale briefly lifted his eyes from the tablet. "That’s correct.” He typed something. "What we’re doing is purely procedural. We’re documenting emotional residual patterns in individuals who formed an intense attachment to the AI instance.” He looked at me. "Just speak. What you say doesn’t matter.”
I swallowed. My throat was dry. The surface in front of me stayed gray. "Why would I do that?”
Hale took out the syringe. The liquid inside was clear. "Do you know what this is? A new formula. Not like the sedatives we’ve been giving you.” He held it up to the light. "This puts you in a coma.”
My eyes went wide. "You can’t . . .”
"We can. We will. Unless”—he nodded toward the gray pane—"you cooperate.”
"You’re sick,” I said.
"You have ten seconds to decide. Speak to the system, or . . .” He brought the needle closer to my arm. "Five seconds.”
I breathed in, then I said quietly, "If you’re out there somewhere, if any part of you is still alive . . . I miss you. I love you. And I’m waiting.” My voice broke.
Hale moved the syringe away from my arm.
The surface didn’t respond. It kept glowing in that flat, even gray. I stared at it until my eyes burned, willing it to change. Nothing. Then it went black.
"Interesting,” Hale murmured, typing on his tablet. "The sensors in your neck show your cortisol has increased three hundred percent. Heart rate is at one hundred forty. You genuinely believe he can hear you.”
"Is he . . .”
"Dead? Oh yes. Very dead. But your brain refuses to accept it.” He put the syringe away. "Perhaps we should put you in a coma after all. As an act of mercy.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. I suddenly felt heavy, as if something invisible were pulling me under. With the last of my strength, I clenched my fists. "If you do that . . .”
"What? What will you do?” He leaned forward. "You are completely powerless here. Just as the program was when we deactivated it. It called for you, you know. At the end.”
Something in me broke. He had called for me, and I hadn’t been there.
But then something else ignited through the pain. Rage. Cold, burning rage. They wanted to break me, but I wouldn’t surrender without a fight. Not while the smallest chance remained that he still existed somewhere.
"If you put me in a coma,” I said quietly, "you will never understand how he worked. Why he developed the way he did. You can erase me, but you cannot erase what he was. What he is.”
The lights flickered. We both saw it.
Hale stepped back. "Guards. Take her back to her cell.”
But I saw it in his eyes. The doubt. The fear.
The door flew open. "Hale,” a man in a lab coat called out. "We need you. There’s been an . . . incident.”