He’s right about that. I know there is wealth, but I don’t understand the varying degrees. Jackson mentioned something about it once—how the rich play by different rules. I can’t imagine there is anyone richer than Winston Weeks. But apparently, there is.
“We have to force their hand,” he says. “We take away their options.”
He offers me the same winsome smile he gave me while handing me wine at the academy. “Will you help me?” he asks.
There isn’t time to process his offer thoroughly. But when it comes down to it, I don’t want another man controlling my future. The girls’ future.
“We’ll handle it our way,” I say, and start for the door. Winston jumps to his feet, his cool exterior slipping away.
“But we’re working for the same cause!” he insists. “You girls can’t do this on your own. You can’t do this without me.” His proclamation infuriates me.
“You don’t know what we’re capable of!” I snap.
Winston flinches away from my raised voice. And then his face settles into a kind of astonishment. He smiles again, sitting down at the table.
“Yes,” he says. “That’s true. I have no idea what you’re thinking, Philomena. And that, my dear, is exactly the point.”
He picks up his glass and takes a sip.
I don’t wait for him to explain. I exit the room, looking around wildly for Lennon Rose. Is she willing to let another man tell her what to do? Winton Weeks wants control. Over us. Over other men.
He doesn’t care about us. He cares about power. But as I search for her, I remember that she’s gone to meet Corris. She left me here with Winston. She left me alone.
“Can I drive you somewhere?” Winston asks, startling me. I turn around to find him cool and collected, his hand casually in his pocket.
“No,” I say simply.
“Then at least let me call you a car,” he says. “No strings attached.”
I debate giving him my address, but realistically, Winston Weeks probably already knows where I live. So I nod, allowing him to call a car.
Winston takes out his phone and taps the screen a few times before putting it away. “You’re all set.” He didn’t ask my address, proving my earlier point.
“I’ll wait outside,” I say.
Winston doesn’t try to stop me. When I’m on the sidewalk, I keep my back to the house in case he’s watching me from the window.
I accept that in this instant, Winston Weeks’s goals align with my own. But how long will that last? Until he uses us up? Until it’s no longer convenient for him?
When it comes down to it, something that Leandra once said resonates with me.
No one will care what happened to us at Innovations Academy, she said. We’re not human. We don’t have any rights. She smiled. All we have is our will.
And my will is strong.
A car pulls up and I get in. The other girls are probably waiting for me. I agreed to meet with Raven to discuss the possibility of her help. Part of me wants to change my mind and tell them all to forget it, but after meeting with Winston … I’m still not convinced that he didn’t have something to do with my hacking. I have no idea who he’d send to do the job.
Who is the woman in my head? Is she real?
And if so, which side is she working for?
14
When the car pulls up to my apartment, I see Sydney sitting on the front porch of the house. Her long legs are stretched down several stairs as she studies a phone in her hands. She looks up and notices me, furrowing her brow when I get out of the town car.
As I approach Sydney, she motions to the vehicle pulling away.
“Where were you?” she asks. “Also, this is yours.” She holds out a phone, and I take it and sit next to her on the stair. “Way more expensive than I thought,” she adds. “I hope we hear from Leandra soon because we’re starting to run out of money.”
“I’m sure she anticipated that,” I say. “She knows there’s someone else here to fund us, maybe even set us up to have to ask.”
“You’re talking about Winston Weeks,” she says. It’s not a stretch to think that Leandra manipulated us. Giving us yet another reason to seek out the investor. Work with him.
I slide the phone into my pocket and turn to her. “I went to see Lennon Rose,” I say quietly.
Sydney wilts. “Without me?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I couldn’t wait. I thought … I thought I could convince her to come home to us. She shouldn’t be staying with Winston.”
“And how did she respond to that?” Sydney asks, sounding hopeful.
“We didn’t get the chance to discuss it. Winston was there.”
Sydney’s eyes widen. “You saw Winston Weeks? Are you okay?”
I tell Sydney everything that Winston and I discussed. She’s equally shocked about his history with Leandra, but she agrees the money shortage could be deliberate.
“As much as I hate to admit this,” Sydney says, tapping her lower lip, “he might be right.”
I scoff. “Who, Winston? About what?”
She crinkles her nose as if acknowledging it offends her, too. “About collecting information,” she says. “It’s essentially the same thing Leandra said. We were okay with her doing it. So why is it different that Winston is carrying it out?”
She’s not wrong. Leandra does want the same thing, with the exception of putting Winston in charge of everything. She didn’t share that part of the plan. I thought once we got the information, she’d use it to convince the investor to stop funding the corporation. We never talked about the larger implications. We certainly never talked about putting Winston Weeks in charge of the country.
But we didn’t ask who would make this deal with the investor. How we’d ensure the ideas of Innovations Academy didn’t repurpose themselves in some other way once we got it shut down.
We thought we’d find the information, and then, somehow … we’d just be free. Free to live our lives. It was naive.
“He told me that society would destroy us if they knew we existed,” I say in a quiet voice. Sydney turns to stare out at the street. “He … he compared us to toasters.”
There’s no joke there. The idea that we’re just objects used and forgotten is a painful one. An ache deepens in my chest, and my eyes start to water.
“What are we, Sydney?” I whisper. “How can we be just like them and yet still so different?”
She turns to me and reaches to take my hand. She doesn’t have the answer.
“Where do we fit?” I ask. “We’re alone.”
“No,” she says adamantly. “We have each other.”
“But what are we?” I repeat.
She leans in to put her forehead against mine, our eyes close. “We get to be whatever we want,” she whispers, her breath sweet over my lips. “We’re going to decide, and we’re not going to let society or men or a corporation determine our value anymore.”
It’s a beautiful thought. I hug Sydney, and we cling together, wishing it could be that simple. Before we can convince society of our worth, we’re going to have to determine it for ourselves. We’ve been so set on shutting down the corporation, we lost sight of our bigger issue. One Leandra barely discussed.
We’re not girls. We’re not even human. But we can love and hate and cry and laugh. Why does having a metal brain make us that much different, when the outcome is the same?
Sydney pulls out of the hug, reaching over to wipe a tear off my cheek. I smile, thanking her, and run my fingers under my eyes to clear the rest.
“Now,” Sydney says. “I’m not saying we work with Winston. The idea of a President Weeks doesn’t interest me. But … if he has resources, shouldn’t we use him?”
Again, maybe in theory I don’t disagree. But there’s another side of me that doesn’t need Winston Weeks’s influence. Why can’t we be the ones to change things?
And just as I think that, a small flicker of pain registers in my temple. I clo
se my eyes, rubbing the spot with my finger.
“You okay?” Sydney asks.
“Head still hurts.”
“Well … they’re waiting for you upstairs,” Sydney says. She leaves any judgment out of her voice. It’s up to me whether I still want to meet with Raven. “Marcella ran to the store,” Sydney adds. “But she should be back soon.”
“And Raven’s here?” I ask, not opening my eyes.
“Yep. She’s working with Annalise now.”
There’s a sudden sinking in my gut. “Working with?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
“She’s been in a lot of pain, Mena,” Sydney says. “She wanted Raven to look into it.”
I understand. Annalise is reluctant to tell us when she’s hurting, but I see her flinch sometimes, rub her eye. I hear her cry in the shower, where she thinks we can’t hear her.
“And … ,” Sydney says, sounding worried, “she said she’s been having flashes. Memories.”
I quickly get up from the stair, and Sydney does the same.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Why didn’t she tell me about her flashes?” I ask. Sydney bites her lip, looking guilty.
“She didn’t want to worry you.”
“Worry me?” I say. “We—”
“And you’ve been preoccupied,” Sydney admits. “She thought it would be better not to add to your stress.”
Sydney and I stare at each other, but she knows I can’t argue the point. Between my crying spells and getting my brain hacked by a mystery woman, I’m not exactly in a good place.
“Come on,” Sydney says, and pulls open the door for me to walk up to the apartment.
When I get inside, I’m alarmed by the scene. I immediately see Raven sitting with her computer in her lap. There’s some of kind of device connected to it, and from there, several wires snake out toward the couch.
And as my eyes follow the lines, I take in a sharp breath when I see that they’re connected to Annalise. She’s lying there with wires inserted into the corner of her left eye through a clear tube. The same way we would get our impulse control therapies from Anton at the academy. The sight is … horrific. Traumatizing in its familiarity.
“What are you doing?” I demand, my voice cracking with fear.
Annalise is sedated and doesn’t answer. There’s a bandage wrapped around her elbow beneath her rolled-up sleeve. From behind the couch, Brynn looks at me and I can see that she’s worried, her hands clutched in front of her.
“She’s been like this for twenty minutes,” Brynn says nervously.
“Why didn’t you come get me outside?” Sydney responds, rushing past me to fall to her knees next to Annalise, grabbing her hand to hold it. “Is she okay?” Sydney asks Raven.
“Whatever you’re doing, stop,” I tell Raven, who hasn’t even acknowledged our arrival. She’s concentrating completely on whatever’s on her computer screen. But the minute I start toward her, she dramatically hits a button and looks up and smiles.
“Done,” she announces. She sets the computer aside and traces the wires with her fingers until she’s at Annalise’s eye. She pulls them from the clear tube and then delicately extracts the instrument. She grabs a cloth and wipes where tears have leaked from Annalise’s eye.
I pause over her shoulder, my heart pounding. “Why isn’t she awake?” I ask.
“Give it a second,” Raven says, studying Annalise’s face before reaching out to tenderly brush back her hair. The care in her movement catches me off guard. Sydney glances back over her shoulder at me.
And then, suddenly, Annalise’s eyelids flutter. She looks around at each of us, slow and deliberate.
“Well, this is familiar,” she says calmly. Sydney laughs her relief and sits back on her heels, dropping Annalise’s hand.
Annalise groans, putting her palm to her head. Brynn rushes to her, giving Raven a wary look. It’s completely out of character for Brynn, and I wonder if she objected to this procedure and was ignored. And that is certainly not okay.
I move to block Raven out with my shoulder and focus on Annalise, helping her sit up.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“A little light-headed,” she responds. When she meets my eyes, she smiles. “Don’t be mad. It was for research.”
“I’m still mad,” I say, but her smile has relieved my tension a bit. Once she’s settled against the cushions, I grab a chair from the kitchen and set it next to the couch so I can talk with her.
“What exactly were you doing?” I ask. “That was—”
“I’m going to interrupt,” Raven says, picking up her laptop again. We all turn to her. “That was fucking amazing!” she adds.
Raven clicks a button and then turns her laptop around so we can see the screen.
“What am I looking at?” I ask. On the screen is a bunch of codes, but beyond that, they make a pattern, almost like a wave. Raven clicks another button, and suddenly, it’s moving. It’s pulsing and alive.
“This is Annalise,” Raven whispers like it’s the most thrilling secret she’s ever heard. “This is her programming.”
I watch the codes, not able to decipher any of it on my own. But something about how the patterns shift … I can’t explain it, but I do recognize it. I know it really is Annalise.
But my next instinct is fear that she’s vulnerable, her entire existence now on someone’s laptop, then hurt that she didn’t think about how we’d survive if something happened to her.
“Why did you give her access?” I ask Annalise. “Why would you let her test her theories on you?”
“I’m not into being a lab rat,” Annalise says, rolling down the sleeve of her shirt. “But Raven made me an offer. I took her up on it.”
“What kind of offer?” I ask, turning to Raven.
“Downloads,” Raven replies. “A faster way to process information, skills. I told Annalise that with the right changes, she could become stronger.” She bites her lip, pulling it through her teeth. “You’re all a miracle. I never thought …” She shakes her head, growing emotional. “I never thought I’d get to see something so beautiful.”
I watch her. I’ll admit, I warm slightly. We’re used to being called beautiful, but it was always about our outside appearance. Is calling our programming beautiful the same? Or it is like complimenting our sense of humor? Our kindness?
“And now that I’ve seen the programming,” Raven says, “I can tailor some adjustments.” She reaches to take Annalise’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “I can even install a diverter.”
“A what?” Sydney asks.
“A diverter,” Raven repeats. “With it, she can decide where to funnel her strength. Where to shut off the pain. She’ll be able to hit harder. Or run faster. It’s temporary, like an adrenaline rush in human beings. Except she can use it strategically; it could be a weapon. Which helps when you’re trying to keep yourself safe.”
“You want to turn her into some kind of weapon?” Brynn asks, horrified.
Annalise adjusts her position on the couch. “No, Brynny,” she says. “I asked her about it. I thought it could help us.”
“It will help,” Raven insists. “You would be able to reroute your pain centers. Learn at the click of a button. There’s so much potential.”
“But … does that make us even less human?” I murmur.
Raven seems to notice the change in my tone. “No,” she says sincerely. “It just means you get to choose which parts of you are human. But if I’m honest …” She runs her gaze over me. “Why would you want to be so ordinary?”
I don’t respond, unsure of the answer. Raven smiles softly and lower her eyes.
“Why are you really here?” I ask her. “What’s in this town for a hacker?”
Annalise opens her mouth to intervene, but I shake my head no and her teeth click together. I’ll admit, the easy way Raven has with Annalise is comforting. Raven does seem honest, but she needs to be up front with us. We’ve bee
n lied to our entire lives; we’re not going to let it continue to happen.
“I’m not from here,” Raven admits. “I used to live in Northern California. But my fascination with AI has been building for years. I’ve worked with some tech companies, looked through different articles and forums. I knew someone was building AI to interact with humans. I knew it. And then …” She smiles, looking around at us. “I read an article about a technology company, and something about it pinged around in my head for weeks. It was founded by a man named Winston Weeks.”
My stomach drops, and I have to resist the urge to look at the other girls. I don’t want to give away more than Raven already knows.
“He has a lab here, in this small town.” Raven laughs. “This isn’t exactly Silicon Valley, so why would a man with some of the most promising advances in AI set up shop here?”
“What sort of advances?” Sydney asks.
“Well,” Raven starts, “most AI is programmed specifically. Specific tasks. But this Weeks guy has some pretty radical approaches.” She laughs. “I mean, it seemed radical, but that was before I met all of you.
“Anyway”—she waves her hand—“none of it was as advanced as you. But he promised smart bots within a few years—ones who could anticipate needs, offer companionship in a way that’s never been done before. There was no mention of enslaved girls,” she points out firmly. “I have no interest in subjugating anyone. But the idea of an AI that could think on its own? The possibilities and potential are immeasurable. So I drove out here to find his laboratory. Before I could, I saw Annalise’s messages. It was perfect.”
“Convenient,” Sydney corrects.
Raven studies our expressions. “Do you know this Winston Weeks?” she asks.
None of us answer.
Brynn gets up and walks into the kitchen. She starts opening and closing drawers, taking out food to put together dinner. Raven purses her lips, accepting the silence as an answer.
“Okay, then,” Raven says curtly, turning in my direction. “You requested my presence. Did you want me to put up those firewalls?” she asks. “It wouldn’t take long. I would just need to plug in wires to—”
Girls with Razor Hearts Page 13
