“‘Mr. Castell’?” Alex grinned and shot me a look. “Maybe if he’d called me that before, I wouldn’t have given you such a hard time about dating him,” he said impishly.
I knew he didn’t mean it, but I immediately looked away as my heart began to ache, reminding me all over again that Grey was gone.
“That was insensitive!” Leo bristled behind me, cutting through the pain and giving me pause. I turned to find him standing even closer to Alex, his face angry. “This isn’t easy for Liana, and as her brother, you should recognize and be cognizant of that. Pointing out my differences from Grey, even in a joke, is in poor taste, and I think you should apologize to your sister.”
“It’s okay,” I lied, trying to defuse the situation. “It really is. I know Alex didn’t mean anything by it.”
“No, but it still hurt you,” Alex said sadly, and I gave him a tentative look.
“It’s okay,” I said firmly. My brother knew me well enough not to press, but I could tell that he wasn’t satisfied with my response, and was now beginning to feel guilty. I scrambled to regain our conversation from before, not wanting Alex’s innocent mistake to get in the way of his other news. “Now, what were you talking about earlier? How is Scipio dying?”
“It’s worse than that,” he said, agitated. “We all have these screens that are displayed on our computers at all times, showing Scipio’s emotional state using these circles. But once I started digging into the code to find Jasper’s AI, I realized that the entire screen was a lie. It’s a dummy program that displays whatever the controller wants us to see! It isn’t a reflection of Scipio’s moods at all!”
He looked at us both as if we would understand what that meant, and while I wasn’t certain about Leo, I was confident that I had no clue. “Okay,” I said. “But I don’t understand what that means.”
“It means that someone has been hiding everything that’s been done to him. And, Liana, it’s a lot. Entire sections of his code have been completely cut away, replaced with ghost coding that fell apart with any sort of digging. Other parts of his code have been cannibalized, and from what I can tell from scans taken of him in the past, this new code is being used against him to strip away everything that makes him who and what he is! And now, the broken bits of code are acting like a cancer, and degrading his processes even more.”
I blinked. This was a lot to wrap my head around, enough to make my head spin. “Alex, how do you know for certain? Could you be mistaken?”
He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, when you asked me to look into Scipio, I started digging, and at first it seemed like there was nothing wrong with him. His moods were within the right margins; his coding seemed clean. I kept searching for some sign of foreign coding, programming glitches, the works, and came up with absolutely nothing. It wasn’t until I started examining the coding that made up the displays that I realized the truth: the displays themselves are lying. It’s a ghost program meant to simulate that Scipio is functioning correctly. Once I figured out that it was the display program, I hacked through it and a few other firewalls protecting it, and discovered the truth.”
He didn’t say any more, because he didn’t have to. His eyes told me the truth.
Scipio was dying. His code had been attacked, undermined, viciously removed. New coding was running rampant against his own, trying to destroy him, slowly tearing away at him like a cancer from the inside.
If something wasn’t done, he’d die, and with him, the Tower itself.
It was a lot to take in, and even more to accept, but I had no reason to doubt my brother’s word or analysis. He was ridiculously smart, and had been studying Scipio his entire life. If he said it was true, then it was.
But what did that all mean? Why had anyone stolen chunks of his code—and what were they doing with them? How had they even done that? Just taken chunks of code like a Hand would pick an apple from a tree… Why hadn’t anyone noticed that? How long did we have before Scipio started to fail, and the machines rumbling in the depths of the Tower below went still and silent, unable to run without his control?
“Alex, how bad is this?” I finally asked.
He exhaled shakily, and looked down at the floor. “His core processes are intact, and he’s still maintaining the machines, but we don’t know how long he’ll be able to sustain them. I’m sorry, I tapped Mercury on this because he’s been working with Scipio for much longer. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything beyond, ‘So I was poking around in Scipio’s code the other day…’”
“Thank you,” I said, relieved that my brother was being smart. I took another look at him and realized that he’d probably been working night and day on this, trying to solve this mystery, and I felt myself appreciate him even more for taking the risk. I just hoped he was being safe enough; I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him.
“You’re welcome. Anyway, he’s running projection models to find out how long we have, as well as seeing if he can figure out what was taken and what was left behind, but it’s a lot of code. It’s going to take some time.”
“Time we might not have,” Leo replied. “But thank you for sharing this with us.”
“No problem,” Alex said. He paused. “Well, some problems, but I knew what I was getting into. Well, no, I didn’t even realize what I was getting into, but now that I know, I’d do it again in a heartbeat, so…” He smiled kindly at Leo. “Now, can I take a look at that net? And maybe a peek at your code, if you don’t mind? I’m just ever so curious.”
“Of course,” Leo said. “I assume you brought—”
“The necessary tools?” Alex asked with a grin, pulling a flat, black zippered case from his pocket. “Never leave home without them.”
The two men moved into the kitchen, Alex already asking Leo technical questions that made it sound like they were speaking a foreign language. I half listened to him, but my mind was far away, wrestling with the information that Alex had just shared with us, and what it could mean for our plans.
Nothing good, of that much I was certain.
19
The walk back to the Salles was quiet, both Leo and I deep in thought. I could tell my companion was sad—though he’d grown better at masking his emotions since he’d gained control of Grey’s body, there was a haunted look on his face, his eyes distant.
I wanted to comfort him, but what could I say? It wasn’t every day that you found out a computer program that was basically made up of pieces of you was dying. What was that even like? How could I possibly relate? Were they brothers, or did Leo feel some sort of paternal impulse toward the other AI? Maybe if I thought about them like family, I could find the words to offer him some peace of mind.
But they never came, and as we walked into the arena, I realized my chance to offer at least something had come and gone. There was no way we could talk about it in such an open space.
I sighed and checked the clock on my indicator. It was two thirty. Our next event wasn’t until four, so we had some time to kill. I looked around at the crowd, searching for Quess, and to my surprise found him chatting with Zoe and Eric.
Both Zoe and Eric were wearing the Cogs’ orange overalls, and Zoe looked like she had just come off a shift, her hands and arms streaked with black grease, a smudge on her cheek. Eric also had some grease on his face—residue from where Zoe had no doubt kissed him when she saw him. The two were holding hands, their fingers interlocked.
I looked over at Leo and tried very hard not to think of Grey. “Zoe and Eric are over there talking to Quess,” I said, pointing the group out.
His brown eyes flicked over to them and back to me. “Are you worried about revealing Quess if we’re all seen together at the same time?”
“Pretty much.” But I hesitated and then shook my head. I had to remember that I could trust my friends to stick to the plan. They were responsible people, and would’ve thought of something. “Actually, I’m being overly concerned. I’m sure Zoe’s got a cover story all w
orked out to explain why they’re talking.”
“You’re probably right,” Leo replied distractedly. I looked over at him, wishing that I could say something to comfort him. Maybe something simple, like an “I’m sorry” would be enough? I wouldn’t have to go into detail—I was certain he’d understand at least that. Before I could say anything, however, he began making his way over to them, moving seamlessly through the crowds of people.
I sighed and followed, feeling crappier by the second.
Of course, how could I help him process Scipio’s inevitable death if I couldn’t even process it? Besides, if it was years away, that was one thing—but what if it was mere weeks, days, or even hours away? What would happen if he shut down for good?
I knew what would happen. First, the machines that he operated would stop working. No more water drawn from the river; no more machines cleaning and circulating our air; no more sun for the plants in the greeneries. We would suffocate long before we would starve, though, and turn on each other long before any of that happened, first over supplies, then in self-defense. Those who didn’t want to fight would opt for escape instead, spilling out onto the irradiated sands—and they wouldn’t get far before the Wastes swallowed them whole.
It sort of blew a big hole into the getting-out-of-here plan. If Scipio was failing, then there wasn’t enough time for us to find a way of escaping the Tower safely.
It blew a big hole into a lot of plans.
So when I approached the group, I couldn’t help but feel like all of this was a little pointless. What did it matter if Ambrose was the Champion, if we were all going to die soon? Wouldn’t our time be better suited to…
To what? Even if I wanted to fix something, we were in no position to do anything about it right then. Lacey had us under her thumb, and if we tried to focus on replacing Scipio, odds were she’d back her threat up and we’d find ourselves labeled as criminals again in no time. And it would be almost impossible to try to fix Scipio with the Knights and half the Tower hunting us down.
I just had to work on helping Leo when we could fit it in around the Tourney. And pray that Scipio wasn’t going to die before it was finished.
I reached the group just as Leo was saying hello to Zoe and Eric. “Who’s your new friend?” he asked, sliding his eyes over toward Quess and imposing a mask of curiosity on his features.
“Just a guy who got a great job,” Quess said with a grin. “And couldn’t wait to share it with the first people I met. I am really sorry for bumping into you again, miss.”
“I’m sure you are,” Zoe said with a smile. “But congratulations on your new job. I’ll be looking forward to seeing your handiwork as the Tourney progresses.”
Job? I swiveled my head back from Zoe to Quess and gave him a dubious look. “You’re a Squire and you were hired for something?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. That was hard to believe; Squires were rarely trusted with any responsibility outside of stocking shelves and cleaning rooms.
“Well, they needed more people to help with drones,” Quess said, a touch smugly. I noted the gleam in his eyes, and realized that he had put some very careful thought into whatever he was up to. “I have some experience with electronics, and they are shorthanded until after the qualifiers, but generally, nobody wants this particular job. So I should be able to keep it until the end of the Tourney.”
“Oh?” I smiled at him kindly. “That’s great.”
“I know,” he drawled confidently. “Now I’ll get to watch all the fights up close and personal.”
And be able to keep a better eye on you during the Tourney. It was unspoken, but still there, and I immediately grinned. I had known Quess was up to something, and was glad he was on our side. I never would’ve even considered trying to get him on the drone control team, but it was perfect for him.
“Well, good for you, Squire,” I said. “I wish you the best fortune, and hope you enjoy seeing me and my team in action.”
“You mean Honorbound and Untouchable?” he grinned, nodding toward Grey. I glanced at Grey, and then back to Quess.
“‘Untouchable’?” Leo asked, before I had a chance to. “Do you mean… Is that my deed name?”
“Mm-hm,” Quess said with a grin. “Because in both fights you’ve been in, no one has been able to land a blow.”
Leo frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. The first match shouldn’t even count! The other team used that inane tactic, and Liana ended the match before any of us could fight!”
I smiled at how indignant he sounded, and then sighed heavily. Ambrose wasn’t going to like hearing that Leo had gotten a deed name before he did. We had to do something to bolster his image, and fast, or things were definitely going to revert back into hostile territory.
“I don’t think you can protest a deed name,” Zoe said lightly, a smile on her face. “You’ll just have to live with it—or make sure you get hit in the future.”
Leo immediately looked repulsed by the idea. “No, thank you,” he said with a sigh. “I suppose it will have to stay, then.”
I was curious as to why he had such an aversion to getting hit, but placed it aside for more important things—namely getting Quess out of there. He had been standing with us for much longer than polite small talk would dictate, and it would draw notice if it continued on for much longer.
“Well, it was nice meeting you,” I told him brightly. “We have to be going, though.”
“Of course!” Quess stammered, his eyes wide. His acting wasn’t quite convincing, though, as he couldn’t quite wipe the smirk off his face. “Anyway, I’ll be rooting for you! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some drones to pilot!”
He threw us a final wave and then turned and left, disappearing into the crowds. I immediately looked at Zoe.
“He was filling us in for you,” she said, releasing Eric’s hand to come close and give me a hug. “He lost track of the guys you wanted him to follow, but managed to make friends with one of the Knights who was trying to handle the drones, but having problems with manpower and experience.”
“It’s smart,” I said, pulling away from her. I was disappointed by the lack of information on the men I had wanted him to follow, but hoped that he managed to find them using the drones. Maybe then he could even find out what they were up to, and help us get ahead of them somehow. But that would have to wait until after we found them.
I gave Zoe a onceover and smiled. “You look good in orange.”
She posed, one hand going to a curvy hip that even the overalls couldn’t hide, the other going to the nape of her neck. “I know, right?”
“It’s the grease that does it for me,” Eric said dreamily.
“Oh, ugh,” I said with a wincing laugh. “I do not need any details about your new life living together.” Zoe gave me a look, and I smiled. “Okay, fine! I do need to know the details, because I love you both and I am very happy for you.”
I was happy for them… but watching them was hard, and I had to look away. All I wanted to do was reach out and take Grey’s hand and hold it as a reminder that I wasn’t alone. But I was.
I swallowed back my self-pity and put it aside. This wasn’t about me. It was about them, and I needed to remember that.
Eric beamed and reached out to snag Zoe’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “Me, too,” he said, and Zoe flushed prettily, unable to mask the pure love and adoration radiating out of her.
“Fascinating,” Leo whispered next to me, and I turned to watch him observing the two of them with rapt attention on his face. I softened some, seeing the delight on his features—and, to my utmost surprise, saw a smidge of envy there as well.
I was stunned by it, but realized then that this must have been something Leo had thought about. Kissing someone. Smiling with them, laughing, touching… All the intimate little moments that happened between people in love.
For a second, I wondered if I should encourage him to maybe go give it a try, just for the experience. Then I r
ealized that while it would be Leo doing the driving, it would be Grey’s body doing the touching. The kissing. The laughing.
And I was one hundred percent not comfortable with that.
Then I considered offering to let him try with me. Not even a heartbeat later I was slamming a mental door in front of that idea, then nailing it shut, tossing chains over it, and sitting on it for good measure.
There was no way. Nope. Nuh-uh.
I quickly latched onto anything that would pull my mind away from the black hole that had suddenly opened up in my head. I mean, I was close to Leo, sure. We were friends. And watching him grow the last few days had been endearing and fascinating in unexpected ways. But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—even consider that. Grey was still in there, and I was not giving up hope that Leo would heal him.
“Well, we don’t have lashes until—” I was starting to say, about to ask them if they had eaten lunch yet.
Then a loud shout of “Liana!” went up back toward the doors.
I turned around, my muscles already tensing, but stopped when I saw Maddox racing toward us, her face flushed and red as if she had been running for some time. It took me a moment to realize that she was alone—and I instantly became concerned that something had happened to Ambrose.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as she came to a stop in front of us.
Maddox was breathing heavily, but not winded. “They moved up our time,” she said angrily. “They’re saying we’ll be disqualified if I don’t get you and Leo up to the lashway entrance in the next five minutes.”
They moved up our time? Alarm raced through me at the unexpected news. They wouldn’t have done that without giving us ample notice, and Ambrose hadn’t said anything. Which meant either that he had intentionally not told us, which made no sense whatsoever, or the notification had never been sent out.
They also hadn’t buzzed us to alert us that we needed to report anywhere.
I supposed it could be coincidence, but after the illegally super-charged batons, I wasn’t as certain. At this point, all signs pointed toward someone trying to push us out of the competition—by any means necessary.
The Girl Who Dared to Think 3: The Girl Who Dared to Descend Page 19