MILA 2.0: Redemption

by Debra Driza

  “Speaking of computers . . . where’s L—Larry?” I’d almost used Lucas’s real name. I needed to focus.

  “He’s buying some software to work on a few new programs. He wanted to get them finished before tonight. I think you’ll be impressed.”

  Code for, Lucas has some new tech for you that he wants to deliver.

  My fake smile became harder to maintain when I realized I wouldn’t get to see Lucas right now. It had never occurred to me that he’d miss this meeting. Anxiety, nerves—whatever the reason, I was overcome with a fierce desire to see his face. If only for a few seconds.

  I couldn’t dwell on my disappointment, though. I needed to describe the day’s events to Daniel. Safely.

  “My roommate is supernice. But she seems really tired. She was so out of it in Mr. Grassi’s computer class today that she started cutting her hair off, out of the blue. She seems fine now. But at least five of the kids we talked to today seemed really tired.” I trusted that he would know these were the five grant winners.

  Daniel stroked his chin. “I’m sure it takes a lot of work to keep up your grades at a prestigious school like Montford,” he finally said. “Anything else?”

  I passed the laptop to Samuel. Another prospective student talking to his “teacher,” as far as Montford knew. “I made some new friends—my roommate, and a few soccer players. Nice lads. When they heard about the hair shenanigans, they told me it’s not the first time that girl has been a little cuckoo this month.”

  Hunter talked about his classes, then gave a small laugh. “They must have some seriously stressed kids on this campus, because I saw some other guy—Claude?—carrying an empty cup toward a trash can, and then, bam, he did a one-eighty and slammed it on the ground. The weirdest part was that he looked like he was having a muscle spasm when it happened. A mini seizure, or something.”

  Daniel interrupted my thoughts. “I’m a little concerned about some of the behavior—do I need to give you the drug talk again?”

  “No,” we chorused, as if we’d really heard the drug talk one hundred times before. His message was loud and clear. Try to search all of their rooms or belongings for drugs.

  “Otherwise, I’m glad your first day went well. Try to get some sleep. Oh, and one last thing. I know you were all worried about the janitor’s wife, Rita, after she was mugged.”

  Hunter and Abby exchanged quizzical glances. We were all in the same boat. No clue about this code.

  “She’s going to be fine. They did some scans and performed some tests—they were worried she had a detached retina. But she fooled them all. With a few alterations, her retina will work just fine.”

  She fooled them all . . .

  And then it clicked. There was a way to fool the retinal-scan security on the vacant building. And if I could fool the security, that meant there was a way in.

  SEVENTEEN

  Back in Hannah’s room, I pretended that everything was normal. That I wasn’t waiting for the information I needed to conduct my search of that building. So far, on this visit, we’d only found more questions . . . but I was ready to find some answers. What were the grant kids up to? What did it have to do with Sarah? Most importantly, what did it have to do with Holland . . . and me?

  Hannah was at her desk. No surprise there. “You can turn the lights off if you want to go to sleep. I’m a night owl—I hope my monitor won’t bother you,” said Hannah.

  My gaze fell on the full mug of coffee beside her laptop. Above it, the cabinet that held her container of sweetener packets was open. I remembered Mr. Grassi’s words in class. Monster drinks. Caffeine? Could it be as simple as that?

  I pulled my laptop off my desk and into my lap, preparing for a long night. I searched for online movies, and found Braveheart. I knew it was one of Samuel’s favorites. Settling back against the pillow, I hit play. Two hours, seventeen minutes later, my cheeks were wet as I turned off the screen. Poor William Wallace. What a gruesome ending. But at least his life had meant something. He’d died a hero by fighting a corrupt leader. He’d believed that some sacrifices were worth making. Did that make it a sad ending or a happy ending? I wondered.

  Hannah still tapped away at her computer, wearing headphones now. I set the laptop on my chair and climbed under my covers.

  Mila?

  The sound should have been jarring, even at a whisper. Yet somehow, my tension eased. Almost as if I’d been waiting for him.

  Hi, Lucas.

  We had this thing, Lucas and I. It had started under less than ideal circumstances, back in Holland’s lab. That first time had been scary and invasive. But back then, I’d still been fighting who—what—I really was.

  Since then, his ability to speak directly into my mind had saved my life. But he’d always managed this feat through access to Holland’s state-of-the-art equipment. I had no idea he could do it on his own.

  I sank into the bed, finding peace for the first time today.

  Was this the new tech you were working on during the group call?

  Yes. Partly. You okay in there? Everyone okay?

  Even inside my head, his voice sounded soft, confident. Generous and kind.

  We’re getting there. Slowly.

  I wished I could see him, like I had Daniel.

  I’m glad.

  You have news about overcoming the retinal scan?

  You have a built-in feature that can help. You have to get a sharp, clear reading of the subject’s eyes—at least four seconds, no movement or blinking. Once you have that, you have an app under your appearance-alteration software that will allow you to flash that data at the security scanner.

  That sounded much easier than I’d anticipated. Well, except for the one part.

  How do I get anyone to stare into my eyes without moving for two seconds?

  You’ll figure it out. You always do.

  I wished I shared his confidence.

  Have you ever seen Braveheart? I just watched it tonight.

  Mel Gibson, still in his glory days? Six times.

  I smiled. Six times, not five or ten. I liked his precision. I could relate to that.

  Did you like it? Lucas asked.

  I did. But it made me cry.

  Of course it did. Everyone cries during Braveheart. We people are perverse. We like sacrifices for the greater good, but we cry when we get them.

  I also liked how he included me in “people” without a second thought.

  You know, my uncle could probably give King Edward a run for his money.

  The warmth faded. I didn’t want to talk about Holland. Not right now.

  Please. I don’t want to have nightmares.

  I was pretty sure that, as an android, I couldn’t dream. But Lucas laughed and went along with me.

  Fair enough. I’ll just talk about the more pleasant aspects of the movie, then. Wait . . .

  I shoved my palm over my mouth to stifle a giggle—hopefully, Hannah was still too preoccupied to notice.

  So, are you really doing okay?

  I guess. It’s tough, though. Seeing so many carefree kids, and knowing that Sarah was here so soon before she died. It’s not fair that her life was cut so short. She deserved to be carefree too.

  My vehemence caught me off guard, and once again I felt the pinprick of programmed tears. Lucas probably thought I was losing it. But of course, he didn’t miss a beat.

  You’re right. It’s not fair. She deserved more. But so do you.

  He paused for a second before his soft voice continued flowing into my head.

  It’s not your fault that Sarah died, Mila. Just the opposite. As long as you’re around, she will never be completely gone.

  I covered my mouth with my hand and closed my eyes. How had he known what I’d been thinking? Feeling? And how did he always know what to say to make it better?

  And then I surprised myself.

  I’ve missed you.

  My eyes flew open. Wait, what? I’d only meant to thank him, not spill the be
ans on that. Trust me to find new ways to blurt things. I had to be the only android ever designed with that problem.

  I turned my head and buried my face in the pillow. As if I could hide from the embarrassment in my own head. He probably thought I was crazy. Or that the stresses of Montford had reduced me to a big ball of mush. He was going to laugh, and remind me that we’d been apart less than twenty-four hours. Or maybe he would—

  I’ve missed you too.

  Oh.

  His words floated over me. They drifted beneath my skin, washing me with a liquid warmth that penetrated even the darkest shadows in my mind. I lifted my face from the pillow and rolled onto my back, feeling a smile tug at my lips. I only listened with half an ear as he finished up the conversation.

  We should probably say good night now. I’ve got more work to do. Oh, but you should know I managed to get in touch with Tim. We exchanged messages through the supply shop. As far as I can tell, no one has tried to contact him. So far, we’re still safe.

  That’s good. And there’s no way anyone could trace the message back to you?

  Shouldn’t be. I was careful.

  Okay. I worry about you too.

  I know.

  By the time we said our good-byes, my eyes felt tired, my body strangely heavy. I let my eyelids close and sank back against the bed. Hannah showed no signs of slacking, and I didn’t want to get busted for snooping my first night here. I’d have to put that off till tomorrow.

  I gave in to my sleep cycling and allowed myself to doze off, knowing I’d awaken if Hannah roused. From time to time, a video flickered through my head. Dreams or fears, I wasn’t sure which. I was in a cavernous, dark room, alone yet not, fighting off demons that I knew weren’t real, yet I could somehow see. I dived and rolled, dashed and jabbed, more quickly than any human could. Then I felt a shadowy presence reach toward me. Once again, I had the sensation that my attacker wasn’t real. Yet I whirled around to face it. With a jab of my knife, I finished it off and came back for more, panting. Caught in a blur of sweat, adrenaline, and fear.

  Around me, the room was empty.

  Except for the lone figure behind a podium. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear approval in his steady, crisp clapping.

  “Nicely done, Sarah.”

  Sarah. I froze. I knew that voice.

  Slowly, I turned to face the man. But the podium had vanished. Instead, the faces of my friends appeared. Samuel. Abby. Hunter and Daniel. Lucas. And then Hannah and Celia. J.D.

  No. Panic surged, but something trapped my feet, rooting me to the ground. They shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t safe.

  “Run,” I tried to scream, but the sound died in my throat.

  And then, my friends’ eyes rounded in horror.

  I followed their pointing fingers to my stomach, where a red light flashed.

  A second later, I heard the noise.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  Apologies rushed through my head, but before I could utter a single word, an enormous boom deafened me.

  Time’s up, came an automated, dispassionate whisper from somewhere deep inside me.

  And then the world exploded, taking everyone around me with it.

  “Mara! Wake up!”

  I shot upright in the bed and stared straight into Hannah’s eyes. My heart pump still galloped away in my chest.

  “What . . . how . . . ?” I said.

  Hannah settled on the edge of my bed. “You were having a nightmare. It’s okay, I used to have them all the time as a kid.”

  Was that even possible? Androids couldn’t have nightmares, could they? If the organic material in me was developing to include this ability, I wasn’t sure I wanted it.

  “Did I say anything . . . weird?” I asked with a stab of concern.

  “No. I mean, you made some noises, but they didn’t sound like words to me. It’s hard, being away from home. Even for a little while.” Hannah’s voice was soft. Wistful.

  “Do you miss your family?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “Yeah. I do. I mean, I like it here and all. Most of the time,” she said, as a shadow crossed her face. “But I never thought I’d miss my mom and dad so much.”

  She stared at me, and her voice lowered. “You know, if you’re homesick already, you should really think about staying in public school. Boarding school isn’t all it’s made out to be.”

  As I met her steady gaze, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a warning.

  She coughed. “Anyway . . . I’m sure you want to get back to bed.”

  She started to rise, and that’s when I remembered. Her eyes. The retinal scan. I couldn’t let her look away.

  My hand whipped out and landed on her arm. Just as I’d hoped, her gaze darted back to mine. “I just . . . I’m sorry you miss home. Is there any way you could transfer?”

  But even as a part of me made the suggestion, a different part of me regretted it. If I really cared about her, I wouldn’t be using this moment to steal something from her. Apparently, androids could also feel guilty.

  Retinal copy: Initiate.

  “No, not when I have this grant. My parents would be mad.”

  Image processing . . .

  Afraid that she would look away before I completed the scan, I didn’t let go of her arm. “That sucks. Isn’t there a way you could explain, make them understand?”

  She chewed on her lower lip. “I don’t know . . . maybe.” But the defeated slump of her shoulders said something else.

  Image retrieved. Storing copy.

  Somewhere, in the recesses of my android brain, I now had a perfect replica of Hannah’s eyes. Stored and ready for use.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She shrugged. “It’s not your fault my parents don’t listen.”

  I nodded and pretended that was the only reason for my apology. I was so sorry, so deeply sorry. For what I just did, but also everything else she was going through. This wasn’t some virtual life for Hannah. This was the real thing—her one life—and she was spending her precious teenage years away from people she loved. Huddled over her desk. Gulping coffee to keep her awake . . . to spend more time at her desk.

  Something here still wasn’t adding up. I knew that Holland had to be involved here, but I didn’t know how. I only knew this: a fierce need to protect this girl swelled in my chest. She deserved better than this. Just like Sarah had.

  Back at Quinn’s, I had done something terrible. Something unforgivable. I’d been tricked into it, yes, but I was the one who pulled the trigger, and I would always have to live with that. Bad luck—and my own mistakes—had cost me Hunter. But they weren’t going to cost another girl her happiness. Whatever it took, I was going to make sure that Hannah had a chance to live and love fully someday. The chance that Sarah never had.

  One day soon, I might find that I had two hours left on earth.

  And if that was the case, I wanted my last days to count for something.

  Hannah headed back to her desk, where a light still glowed over an open book.

  I frowned. “Aren’t you ever going to bed?”

  “In a bit. I’ve got some more studying to do.”

  A bit turned out to be 3:30 a.m. I feigned an urge for the bathroom, but she was still awake when I returned, so I gave up for the night. It was just too risky to check her phone.

  I’d managed to grab the retinal scan. But I was all too aware that time was ticking by.

  EIGHTEEN

  In the morning, Hannah finally left to take a shower. As she headed out the door with her towel and caddy, I knew I’d only have minutes at most.

  “See you in a few,” she said, shutting the door behind her.

  I tried to zero in on the sound of her footsteps retreating down the hallway, but the music from next door blared too loud.

  Remove audio interference?

  Until this moment, I hadn’t realized that was an option.

  Yes.


  Instantly, the music muted, leaving behind normal sounds of life in the dorm. Sounds at decibels that wouldn’t cause hearing damage . . . if I actually had regular human ears.

  I squeezed the spot on my ear lobe.

  Enhance audio?

  Yes.

  Magnify 10x.

  Finally, I heard them. Her footsteps, far down the hall. And then the snick of the bathroom door, closing.

  Now.

  I was spying, but it was for Hannah’s own good. I had to get her out of whatever mess she’d wandered into. What she thought was an exclusive prep school was, for her, a kind of prison. Or maybe worse.

  I pulsed out a message, hoping to track down the VPN signal and trace the stream back to her phone.

  Nothing. My gut twisted.

  She must have switched it off.

  I had to find it the old-fashioned way.

  Back in the room, I went for her bag first. I rustled through every pocket. No phone.

  The desk was next. I combed through papers, books, drawers. Nothing.

  The dresser? I opened the top drawer, feeling weird and creepy pawing through her socks. The next drawer down was more of the same. Just junk. A tangled assortment of vitamins and pills. Vitamin C, multivitamins, fish oil, and ibuprofen.

  I glanced along her bookshelves. Textbooks and literature. A stash of granola bars, almonds, Red Vines, coffee, and sweetener packets.

  I squatted to peer under her desk, then straightened.

  An image formed of Hannah drinking coffee in the cafeteria. Black coffee. No cream, no sugar. So why did she drink it differently in her room? Nicole always took her coffee the same way, no matter what.

  The sweetener packets were in a jar, more organized than the rest of Hannah’s stuff. I picked up the jar, lifted the lid, and removed a packet. Tearing open a corner, I sniffed. Then I licked my finger and touched the tip to the white grains before sticking it in my mouth.

  And almost gagged. Something unbelievably bitter, rather than sweet, coated my tongue.

  I took another sample and slid it under the nail bed of my index finger.

  Chemical components: Modafinil.

  Uses: Sleeplessness-promoting agent. Only legal use in US for treatment of narcolepsy.