“You’re a terrible liar,” he said. He placed the handkerchief back into his breast pocket, the clockwork gears in his eyes spinning, digging into her to discover all he wanted to know. He monitored each twitch, the expanding and contracting muscles, the contours of each poorly-veiled expression. “I remember you. From the market all those years ago. I was certain you’d die in the gutter where you belonged, just like the rest of your kind, but I was wrong. You should be proud. That never happens. How did the scars turn out?”

  “Like a work of art,” she said. She unclenched her fists and stood, leaving the rest of her food behind. Her lips curled in disgust. “But I’m still alive, and Banks is not. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Be my guest,” the Stranger said. He twirled his left hand as if granting permission, and then tilted his head to the side and cracked a smile. “Oh, yes, I thought you should know. I’ve been given all the old man’s assets, so we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”

  Mal paused, but she didn’t look back. What a narcissistic prick. She shook her head, and then retraced her steps until she found the room where she woke up. She kicked the crates out of the way, closed the door as gently as she could, and then walked over to the far wall. She raised a fist, intending to strike the bricks until they disintegrated into dust, until her skin split, but she noticed a small silhouette in the corner of her eye. It was the gift Nadia had given her, that little mechanical cat sitting at the foot of the bed. Malory couldn’t believe it. She reached for it and expected to be hallucinating, to have finally lost her mind, but it was real. She lifted it up, turned it around in her hands, but there wasn’t a note—someone had gone all the way down to the lab, found Mal’s room, and returned it to her without expecting thanks. The act of unexpected kindness smothered the rage the Stranger evoked, and she sat cross-legged on the spot. She dove headfirst into programming; she didn’t understand how to create her own AI kernel, but she tried anyway. And tried again each time it failed. She wrote one line of code, another, until it coalesced into an intricate web of interconnected algorithms and commands nestled inside each other. Evie materialized beside her and observed.

  You’re most of the way there. Surprising. Your skills are so rudimentary, I never expected it to be within the realm of possibilities. Did you know it was a junkie that first figured out how to crack neural networks—to dig inside the mind of another, to pilfer their memories and all they held dear? But the Prophet saw potential, and used the junkie for his plan, and here we are. I can show you the answer, if you want. Want. WANT.

  “Fuck it,” Mal said. She set the cat on the bed and threw her hands up in exasperation. “Show me what I’m missing. But if you’re trying to trick me, I swear I’ll rip this damned eye out of my head.”

  Evie walked to the foot of the bed and reached out like she was stroking the cat’s fur. For a moment, nothing happened. There was just a spectral hand shimmering over sleek, sophisticated metal. Malory held her breath; she didn’t know what to expect, but she was invested. She was certain the ghost had grown stronger after wearing her like a suit, and knew there’d come a point where it would be able to seize control on its own, but it wasn’t there yet. The ghost’s hand sank inside without warning, clutched the cat’s control center between elongated fingers, and both of them glowed in a rainbow of neon lights. Oranges, reds, pinks, each bright enough Malory had to shield her eyes, afraid it would burn her fleshy retina or damage the optics of the experimental implant she didn’t have the first clue how to repair. The process dragged on and on, and shed so much heat the small space transformed into an impromptu sauna. Sweat rolled down Mal’s brow, collected the scum, and settled on the collar of her shirt. When the reaction finally stopped, the ghost was nowhere to be seen, but the cat meowed and stretched out little limbs. It observed Malory with wide, intelligent eyes, and it was waiting for something.

  You don’t have to be so wary. I told you I will never leave until you accomplish the mission, until you retrieve what’s mine. I gave it a kernel of my own creation, and you won’t find anything like it in any market on Earth. Feel free to take a peek at the code, to glean the secrets if you can. Consider it payment for future services rendered as we fly into the sun. Sun. SUN.

  “Thank you?” Mal asked. If Evie had been the woman that assassinated ZenTech’s CEO, she had long-since shed all the constraints of being human, and it was impossible for Malory to trust whatever she’d become.

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  Give it a name. Name. NAME. There is a power in them.

  “Faraday,” she said. It was the first thing that came to mind.

  // INITIALIZING FIRST CONNECTION

  // PLEASE WAIT…

  //

  //

  // CONNECTION ESTABLISHED

  It doesn’t know how to speak yet, but it will learn. The more it interacts with the world, the more it will come to understand. Make sure it doesn’t get caught. An unregistered AI is categorized as a capital offense in New Detroit.

  “I’ve already got a bounty on my head,” Mal said. Her implant blurred for a moment, and then a small rectangle appeared in the corner. It showed whatever the cat could see, and it was disorienting to see herself, all the gore, the way she resembled a demon fresh from the battlefield. “They can certainly try.”

  If they ever send Containment, you don’t stand a chance in hell unless you grant me control. Control. CONTROL.

  “That was a one-time thing,” Mal warned. She tilted her head to the side, and Faraday tilted its own in response. They stared at each other until it felt like they’d come to an understanding. “Don’t expect it to happen again.”

  I’ll keep that in mind when you come begging on your knees. You just don’t have the skills to manage the escalating situations you keep finding yourself caught inside. Take it to heart when I tell you death is overrated. You don’t want any part of this. This. THIS.

  “Hey, while you’re willing to have a real conversation, do you think the Stranger was involved in what happened at the headquarters?” Mal asked. She reached forward and stroked Faraday’s chin, and smiled when it started to purr in a hollow rumble. Nadia understood. They hadn’t been able to talk in a while, but the little maniac knew her better than anyone else.

  Yes. Without question. He is the snake slithering in the tall grass, the predator coiled and waiting to strike. Strike. STRIKE. I do not understand his endgame, but it’s safe to assume he’s working for himself, above all else. He will try to have you killed. To get you out of the way.

  “Well, Faraday needs a test run, and we need information,” Mal said. She lifted the cat and stroked its metal fur as she walked it over to the door. She stuck her head out into the hall to make sure the coast was clear, and set him down with a click. “Let’s see what you can find for us, little one. Don’t let anyone see you.”

  The cat let out another soft meow, and then bounded off into the shadows. Mal closed the door again, sat down on the bed, and watched the footage in silence as Faraday crept around underfoot and searched for systems to hack into. It was swift, but it was obvious the AI had yet to fully understand the body or its capabilities—it tripped on its own paws, couldn’t figure out what to do with the tail, and even ran face-first into walls. It was a small miracle no one noticed, each preoccupied with their own traumas. Mal was thankful to be well-versed in selective dissociation, and if being a witness to her mother’s murder had given her a gift, it was to endure. She lost herself in the observation and let herself drift away from the confines of her flesh until it felt like she was the one dashing behind overturned boxes, scattered tents, and trash searching for access ports. Mal was so invested in the search, in being free to think of anything else that she failed to hear the knocking until it escalated to a fist pounding on the door. She stood, minimized the feed, and headed over to open it. On the other side, a red-faced woman muttered obscenities under her breath.

  “About time,” the woman said. She used a rag to dab at her sweaty cheeks, and she squinted at Malory. “You’ve been assigned to guard duty since you were listed as someone with significant combat experience.”

  “Sure,” Mal said. She doubted anyone would come to find them so far out in the wilderness, so she didn’t mind. She really needed to shower, though. She suspected the plumbing was still active in the structure below, but the higher-ups most likely hoarded access between them. There was no way someone like the Stranger would stay there otherwise.

  “Your shift started five minutes ago, so you should probably head for the mustering spot set up on the far side of the tents,” the woman said. She doubted the authenticity of what was listed in the file, but the layer of red caked to every inch of Mal’s body spoke for itself. “If you’re any later than ten minutes, they’ll start penalizing you. It can get pretty serious.”

  “Alright,” Mal said. She closed the door behind her and headed off to where they wanted her. Down in her soul, the rooted seed of doubt bloomed like a fragrant rose, each thorn impaling a different reason for her to betray the Black Hands and be done with it all.