The Girl Who Dared to Stand Read online

  I blinked. Now that was important. If we could figure out how to transport him, he could help us in so many ways—help us avoid capture or find what we needed to survive. Maybe he could even figure out a way to get us out of here. He seemed to have more knowledge than we did about the history of the world before. If we were going to try to get out of the Tower, he might be the best person to consult with before we did.

  If we decided to go, that was.

  “Did you say kill?” Scipio asked, straightening up with alarm, thankfully distracting me from yet another internal debate cycle. “What do you mean by kill?”

  “Scipio…” I trailed off and turned to Quess. “You know, you might be right about a potential name change.” He smiled, but it died as soon as I added, “But definitely not Bob.”

  Scipio gave Quess a victorious smile, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Look, Scipio 2.0 has decreed that all those of rank one are basically… unsalvageable, and he, along with the council, has voted to execute them. What’s more, we learned from our friend Cali that the ranking system has been tampered with, or modified—designed so that once you hit a four, you’re destined to fail unless you take Medica drugs to drive your number back up. I was on the Medica drugs. It’s not good, and people can build up a tolerance.”

  As I spoke, Scipio’s face grew pensive, then confused, and finally thoughtful again. “I take it the Medica is the hospital, but… what ranking system?”

  I blinked and looked over at Grey and Quess, both of whom looked equally confused. “You don’t know about the ranking system?” Grey asked, leaning forward. “But… we’ve always had a ranking system!” He looked around, suddenly self-conscious. “Haven’t we?”

  Scipio shrugged and shook his head, looking completely baffled. “Lionel never discussed such a thing with me. How does it work?”

  “Supposedly, the numbers reflect the concentration of positive versus negative emotions in each person’s head, and compares those to work records, reports filed by superiors, behavioral profile tests… It processes them all in a sophisticated algorithm that determines whether the person in question is going to turn against the Tower.” Quess looked around and then shrugged. “That’s what they taught us in the IT academy.”

  “Wait, are they using the net system to do this?” Scipio asked, and I nodded. “But… that system was only designed to monitor a resident’s emotional state so that we could prevent any attempts at suicide or insanity. Lionel suspected that people would not be able to deal with the psychological trauma of the world as they knew it ending, or the isolating nature of Tower life. He predicted that the first few generations of humans to survive would not adjust well, and would need constant counseling to help process the loss of the world that came before. The nets were the answer to that, but they weren’t meant to… I mean… Why would they change it like this?”

  He looked to the three of us, expecting an answer, but I was just as confused as he was. We had always been told that the ranking system had been a part of Tower life since the beginning. Now Scipio was insistent that it had not been. So… what had changed? How had it changed? When had the council decided to start using the nets for something completely outside their original purpose, and why? What good was the ranking system, really? I was perhaps a bit biased against it, but that had been before I learned that it wasn’t even supposed to exist!

  Too many questions, and I realized that all of them could wait, as loathe as I was to admit it. As much as I really wanted to dig into this, there were four people waiting for us to get back to them and help them out. We couldn’t do anything with Scipio right at this moment, but we could do something about keeping us all safe. And getting a little rest. Much of this would probably be easier to deal with after some sleep.

  “Okay, guys,” I said, turning around. “We need to get out of here. I think Grey’s right: there’s nothing we can do for Scipio or that he can do for us in the here and now. We need to get back to the others to help them out. Besides, we really need to sit down and figure out what our next step will be.”

  “We need information to do that,” Grey commented, and I didn’t disagree.

  “What about Mercury?” I asked, looking at Quess. Mercury was Cali and Roark’s contact within the IT department, and one who was meticulous about keeping his identity private. “Do you think we can trust him now that Cali…” I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. “Do you or Maddox even know how to contact him?”

  Quess nodded. “Cali made sure we both knew what to do, in case…” He looked away, choking up some. Seconds passed as he slowly regained his composure, and then he turned back to me. “Do you think we should risk trying to contact him so soon?”

  “I don’t think we have any other choice,” I replied honestly. “Grey’s right—we need to know what is going on inside the Tower so we can better assess the risk outside. We also need a way to move around without setting off the sensor alarms, or else you and Maddox are going to be responsible for all our outside missions.”

  Quess hesitated. “Mercury might be able to help with that,” he said softly. “He’s done it before.”

  “He has?” I asked, blinking in surprise.

  Quess shifted his weight. “Well… covertly. We didn’t get to meet him or anything.”

  I was unsurprised by that; Mercury didn’t seem like the type to leave the Core unless he absolutely had to. The interaction I’d had with him painted him as cold and condescending, and really only interested in protecting himself from danger. I wasn’t optimistic about how much help he was going to be, but we didn’t have a lot of people to turn to.

  I considered trying to get a hold of Alex. He was also in IT, and at least I knew that he cared about what happened to me. Mercury was too much of a wild card to fully trust with my life or the lives of my friends. Yet as I considered it, I realized that if I contacted my twin, we’d both be screwed—per protocol, IT was now monitoring my net to see what I did, and any attempt to net Alex would only get him caught. And possibly killed, which was a horrifying danger that was too real to ignore.

  “He might also have the formula for Paragon,” Grey added.

  “Are you sure we lost all of Roark’s notes?” Quess asked.

  Grey nodded, his eyes tired. “Yes. He tried to explain it to me, but it was too complicated, and I… I didn’t feel like listening at the time.” He shut his eyes, as if trying to force his guilt aside, and then opened them again. “I wish I could take it all back.”

  I looked away, shifting my weight uncomfortably from side to side, uncertain what I could say to make him feel better. Then, on impulse, I stepped close to him and hugged him tightly. He hugged me back, and then gently pushed me away, giving me a look of pure gratitude.

  “I’m okay,” he reassured me with a smile, and I nodded, but wasn’t entirely convinced.

  “It sounds like you all have suffered loss as well,” Scipio said, and I looked at him, realizing that, once again, I had tuned his presence out. “I’m truly sorry for that.”

  I watched the brooding figure for several seconds. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he replied. “So who’s Mercury? Other than the messenger god of Rome?”

  The three of us looked at him before Quess leaned over and loudly whispered, “I take it back. It looks like Bob is having a stroke! What else could explain all that gibberish?”

  “It’s Scipio,” the AI practically spat, and I was amused that the hologram didn’t depict himself frothing at the mouth. “And I’m not! Surely you know—”

  “I hate to be rude,” I said, already sensing something long and not mission-critical was going to start. “And thank you for understanding, but we have to get back to our friends.”

  Scipio smiled. “Of course,” he said kindly. “I completely understand.”

  “Thank you. Quess.”

  “No problem,” he replied with a smile. “So, when do you want to try to contact Mercury?”

 
“Tomorrow,” I replied, and he laughed. When I didn’t join in, he realized I was serious and shook his head.

  “Liana…”

  “I know,” I said flatly. “It’s dangerous. But we’re blind, and that’s more dangerous.”

  He hesitated, and then nodded. “All right,” he conceded.

  “Thank you,” I said, fighting off my bone-deep exhaustion. “Then let’s get back and update everyone about the existence of Scipio 1.0—new name to be determined—and finish setting up. The sooner we do that, the sooner everyone can get some sleep.”

  “Oh, sleep,” Grey replied, his eyes suddenly tired. “How I miss it even now. Quess?”

  “Same. Also, I could use a cuddle.”

  “Not from me, weirdo,” Grey said with a surprised laugh, and I felt some of my grief diminish with the sound. Having a plan was going to keep us busy enough to avoid sinking into despair or trouble, and I could only pray that Grey’s laugh was an indication that it was working.

  I gestured for the others to head through the vent, and they went quickly, obviously ready to get stuff done so that we could all rest. As I started to kneel to get in, Scipio’s voice stopped me.

  “Liana?”

  I turned, rising to meet the man who was now standing directly in front of me. “Yes?”

  He suddenly looked very shy, and I watched, somewhat bemused, as he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it. I knew it wasn’t real, but it was such a human expression.

  “I was wondering if you… if you would come visit me some more. I… I haven’t been around others in so long. It would be nice to just… have a conversation, and find out what has happened in the Tower since Lionel passed. I can see that things have gone off the rails, but maybe I can help find a way to fix it?”

  The smile on my face was genuine, surprising even me, but I went with it. “I’d like that,” I said. “At the very least, it would give me an opportunity to discuss things with someone who actually knew the visionary behind this place. I have a lot of questions.”

  Because I wanted to know everything. Knowledge was power, and if there was some other enemy in play, or even a group of them, then I wanted to know who they were and what they wanted. I wanted to know if the Master Scipio AI was faulty, or had been tampered with. I also wanted to know more about how the main Scipio AI was created—if this one could tell us, maybe we could replicate it and then get him inside of the Core.

  A smile blossomed on his face, and it was beautiful. He appeared so grateful that it made my heart ache for the poor machine. I was unable to imagine how impossibly alone he had felt over the years.

  “Scipio, I’m really sorry for what happened to Lionel. It must’ve been so hard for you.”

  He inclined his head gently. “Thank you for that,” he said hoarsely. “You’re the first people I’ve talked to since the virus. I knew that people had come and gone; when I came to, Lionel’s body had been removed, and my connection to the door leading to the access tunnel had been severed, likely due to it being welded shut.”

  I could hear the ache of loneliness in his voice, and felt for him. He’d spent centuries alone, clinging to life, waiting for someone to come and help him. Or even just talk to him. I understood that loneliness, although not to the extent he did, because it was how I felt anytime I wasn’t with Zoe or Eric or even Grey. Everyone else would avoid me because of my rank, and it… hurt. More than I cared to admit.

  “I’ve… gotta go,” I said after half a minute had passed. “But I’ll come by for a visit soon. Who knows, maybe I’ll bring some of the others in our group with me.”

  “That would be delightful,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his smile grew. “Also, I’ve thought about what you said, about a name, and I will endeavor to come up with something acceptable so that you and your friends will feel more… comfortable in my presence.”

  I nodded, and then turned and slid into the vent, ready to put this room and its mysteries to rest for a little while, and focus on making sure we were all safe. We could figure out how to use this Scipio to our advantage tomorrow.

  6

  “Let me get this straight,” Zoe said, peering up from where she was arranged on the floor next to Eric. “You found another AI in a hidden room, have determined it’s the first version of Scipio, and are letting it stay on?” Her head moved as she speared the three of us with a penetrating look.

  “Yes,” I replied with a nod.

  “I’m confused,” Eric interjected slowly.

  “Yeah, well I’m pissed,” Maddox said, leaning back on her hands and staring at me. “Why didn’t you tell us about this when you first learned about it? Why didn’t you tell the rest of us right then? Who put you in charge?”

  “No one,” I said. “But you were upset, and I—”

  “Do not use my sorrow as an excuse for your actions,” she snarled harshly, and I winced.

  “And don’t be mean to Liana just because she’s trying to take care of us!” Tian shouted angrily, slapping Maddox lightly on the shoulder.

  Maddox’s face hardened, a flash of resentment burning through her eyes. I could only imagine how she felt right now—and I didn’t blame her for taking it out on me.

  “It’s okay, Tian,” I told the small girl. “Maddox is right. I probably should have told you when I found out.” Actually, I still wasn’t sure I had made the right call. Although, everyone had been in a state of shock, and there had been things that needed to be done that ensured our safety… But it was a moot point now. All that mattered was that it was out there now.

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” Eric said automatically, as if that were the stupidest idea he had ever heard, and I stared at him, surprised by his reaction. “This is Command Basics 101,” he said. “From our survival courses? The basic tenants that ensure safety to the Tower?”

  “I never had a formal education,” Maddox drawled, and I frowned. I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, but she didn’t appear to be. I knew that Cali had taken her from the Tower at some point, but I was always under the impression it had been after she had turned fifteen, given the Squire’s uniform hanging over her bed in the room in Sanctum. She wouldn’t have one if she hadn’t been old enough to join the department, which only happened at fifteen. But her quip about formal education made me reconsider, and wonder if she had been younger. And if so, how young? I knew it wasn’t important, but I was curious.

  “Well, basically, it says that those who lead need to know when and where to disseminate information,” Eric said. “In critical life-or-death situations, when our lives are dependent on hiding from the Tower, Liana was right not to tell us about the AI. It would have distracted us from putting up the paint.”

  “We wouldn’t have had to put up the paint if you weren’t here,” Maddox grumbled, and I sucked in a deep breath.

  “It doesn’t matter, because we are,” I said, maintaining my composure. “And Eric’s right—that’s pretty much why I did it. But I’m still telling you now, especially because he doesn’t appear to pose a threat to us.”

  “He’s not connected to the Core,” Quess informed them. “He’s not the same Scipio that lives in the Core.”

  “That still doesn’t answer my original question,” Zoe said stubbornly, folding her arms across her chest. “Why are you keeping him on when he could be dangerous?”

  I ran a hand over my face, as if I could scrape the exhaustion off of it. I wanted nothing more than to go to sleep right now, but this was the last bit of business before bed. Well, that, and deciding who would go with Quess to talk to Mercury tomorrow.

  “Well, for one thing, I’m not convinced that he’s dangerous. And second, because he could help keep us safe. Potentially,” I said. “Quess says that he can probably get in and out of the other Tower systems without being detected, which would make him incredibly valuable to us. Look… I know this is alarming and scary, but if you want to go and meet him, to convince yourselves, then by all means, pleas
e do. He’s certainly eager for company. But we have to make sure we paint that room first.”

  “We don’t need to,” Quess commented, and I looked at him, surprised. “It’s shielded—it would have to be for him to have been down there undetected for so long.”

  Oh. That was great news, considering how much time we had spent down there. I absorbed it, and then turned back to the matter at hand—Zoe.

  I looked at her, raising an eyebrow in question. Her mouth twisted, and I knew that she wasn’t entirely convinced. She was naturally suspicious, and while I knew for a fact that it was coming from an imagination spawned by her love of reading, it didn’t mean her feelings weren’t valid, especially considering Scipio 2.0 was going to have her executed. I would probably be just as suspicious, were I in her position. Heck, if it were Grey or someone else telling the both of us, we would probably bond together to resist it even harder. It was just who we were.

  “Zo,” I said softly, and she looked up at me. “Trust me.” She stared at me a moment or two longer, and finally nodded.

  “Okay,” she replied. “I mean, I do trust you, Liana. It’s just…” She stared past me, as if she could see Scipio through all the layers of ventilation between us, and visibly shuddered. I understood. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that this might not have been the right call. Logically, I was certain it was the right move. But being within a hundred feet of something bearing the same name as the thing that had been ruling over my life for the past twenty years was a hard feeling to get around.

  Getting to know him, and realizing that he was different, had helped. And I knew it would help her.

  “I get it,” I told her, and then smiled crookedly as an idea occurred to me. “But you wouldn’t want to let a potential deus ex machina go uninvestigated, would you?” Her eyes widened, and then she smiled excitedly, her entire demeanor changing just like that. My smile deepened. Zoe was the best friend I had ever had in the whole world, which meant I knew exactly which buttons to push to inspire her interest. And deus ex machina was one of Zoe’s most obsessed-over literary devices, as she loved the idea of a character of power just magically manifesting itself right at the height of the plot to solve everything. It was the highlight of bad story writing to her, and she loved it.