00:00:29.
Aaron looked back and forth between the powered-down M-03 and the child at his feet.
There were two choices.
Hand A-08's location over to the underground facility.
Or sever the connection between M-03 and the mark.
There was no need to explain that he could lose both.
The truck swerved hard. The preservation containers secured beneath the tarp all lurched at once.
The child's forehead struck the transparent wall.
The numbers on Aaron's wrist counted down.
00:00:24.
“I'm cutting it.”
Ria looked at him.
“Cutting what?”
“The connection between the mark and M-03.”
“Do you know how?”
“No.”
Aaron lifted the powered-down automaton's hand and placed it over his wrist.
Cold metal fingers touched the red mark.
Nothing happened.
“But it told me to choose.”
“Johan?”
“Or the automaton.”
Either way, one of them knew something Aaron didn't.
He glared at the sentence hovering over his wrist.
A-08 contact confirmed. Awaiting facility transmission.
The mark resembled the equipment at the lab. The instructions looked complicated, but in the end, it operated through input and output.
And every machine had connection points.
Aaron bit through the end of his bandage and tore it away.
“What are you doing?”
“I'm going to look at the mark directly.”
“It's inside your skin.”
“I can still find where it's generating heat.”
When he unwound the bandage, blue lines appeared across the reddened skin of his burned wrist. Three lines extended from the circular mark at the center.
One ran along the inside of his arm.
One ran to M-03's finger.
The last ran to the preservation container at his feet.
Aaron understood the moment he saw the three lines.
The mark wasn't just transmitting A-08's location.
It was binding him, M-03, and A-08 into a single circuit.
“Senior Researcher Ria.”
“Go ahead.”
“Can you shoot my wrist with the shock rifle?”
Ria's expression froze.
“No.”
“That wasn't a question about whether you wanted to.”
“I can, and I don't want to.”
“If you fire at low power—”
“It's an industrial shock rifle. Even a low-power hit will break your wrist.”
00:00:17.
Gunshots continued below.
The tarp at the back of the truck ripped open. A guard in a gray uniform was clinging to the rear rail, pulling himself up.
Ria turned and fired the shock rifle.
The metal projectile struck the rail.
The guard let go and went rolling onto the road.
“Find another way.”
“We're out of time.”
“Destroying your wrist still isn't a way.”
Aaron examined the mark again.
Of the three lines, only the one leading to M-03 trembled at regular intervals. The administrator's authority that determined the transmission was passing through it.
He didn't need to break the automaton to sever the connection.
He only had to block the contact point where the decision passed through.
The problem was that the contact point lay between M-03's finger and his own skin.
Aaron turned the automaton's wrist over.
A small inspection cover was visible beneath the metal plate.
“Tool.”
Ria pulled a thin screwdriver from inside her lab coat and tossed it over.
Aaron tried to catch it with his bandaged fingers but dropped it. The screwdriver slid along the tarp.
Ria stopped it with her toe.
“If your hands are that bad, say so first.”
“I thought you wouldn't let me do it if I told you.”
“You read me perfectly.”
Ria picked up the screwdriver and opened M-03's inspection cover.
Inside, six thin aether traces were packed tightly together.
“Which one?”
Aaron compared the mark's tremors with the light in the traces.
Five flashed at regular intervals.
Only the innermost black line sent out blue sparks whenever the numbers on the mark decreased.
“The black one.”
Ria inserted the tweezers.
“Do you know what will happen to M-03 if I cut it?”
“No.”
“Any other answer?”
“We hand A-08 over to the facility.”
00:00:09.
Ria's tweezers closed around the black line.
She didn't cut it immediately.
“Aaron. This is your decision to make.”
“I've made it.”
“Don't blame me later if you lose Johan.”
“I think you'll say first that you don't have the right to be blamed.”
The corner of Ria's mouth moved almost imperceptibly.
“You're finally starting to understand people.”
The tweezers closed.
The black line snapped.
Blue light exploded from Aaron's wrist.
His vision flipped upside down.
Hot steel and the smell of blood.
His own small hand.
And the back of the child running ahead of him.
The memory lasted only an instant.
Aaron slammed onto his knees on the tarp and returned to reality.
The numbers on his wrist had stopped.
00:00:02.
The sentence beneath them wavered.
Administrator determination impossible. Transmission canceled.
A-08 contact record suspended.
The transmission to the facility had been blocked.
Instead, the last light drained from M-03's body.
The automaton's head lolled helplessly to one side.
“Johan?”
Ria called out.
There was no answer.
Aaron placed a hand against M-03's chest.
He felt neither vibration nor the hum of power.
“The power is completely cut.”
“Can you restore it?”
“I'll have to open it and see.”
“Here?”
Another bullet tore through the tarp.
A shard of metal passed beside Aaron's face and cut through his hair.
“This doesn't seem like the place.”
Ria pointed ahead.
The truck was entering the center of a rusted ravine. Discarded engines had been piled along the road like cliffs.
Two checkpoint vehicles were closing in behind them.
At the mouth of an alley ahead, recovery-team members wearing black protective goggles were blocking the way.
“We need to take the driver.”
Ria said it.
“If we stop, we'll be surrounded.”
“Then we change direction.”
“Can you get to the driver's seat?”
Ria checked the side of the truck.
A metal foothold no wider than two fingers ran between the body and the tarp.
“I can.”
Her gaze dropped to Aaron's hands.
“You can't.”
“What am I supposed to do if I stay?”
“Get A-08 out.”
Aaron looked at the preservation container at his feet.
“The truck is moving.”
“There won't be time after it stops.”
Ria tucked the shock rifle into her belt and lowered herself along the side of the truck.
“Loosen the container's restraints. Once I change direction, you need to jump off immediately.”
“Where are you changing direction to?”
“I haven't decided yet.”
“You mean you don't have a plan?”
“I learned it from you. You said you should always leave yourself time to regret it later.”
Ria moved along the foothold toward the driver's seat.
Aaron couldn't think of a rebuttal.
It was the day his own words came back to him.
He widened the tear in the tarp.
Six blue preservation containers were secured side by side below. The container holding A-08 was smaller than the others and fastened to the floor with four thick brass locks.
Aaron wedged the screwdriver into the gap in one of the locks.
The first was too rusted to move.
When he applied force, the burned skin split open again. Blood ran down the handle.
The child's eyes followed Aaron's movements.
“Just wait a little longer.”
He didn't know whether the child could hear him.
The child slowly shook their head.
Don't come.
The shape of the words was the same as before.
“I've already come.”
Aaron twisted the screwdriver in the opposite direction.
The lock released with a short click.
One.
The truck lurched violently.
A heavy impact came from the driver's side.
Someone cursed.
It seemed Ria had started fighting the driver.
Aaron moved on to the second lock.
This one's bolt head was worn smooth.
It wouldn't come loose by ordinary means.
He examined the restraints around the other containers.
Only A-08's container was secured directly to the floor. The other five rested on a single shared rail.
If the child was important cargo, securing them more tightly made sense.
But a separate restraint system also made it harder for a carrier to remove the container in a hurry.
It wasn't protection. It was a seal.
Instead of the lock, Aaron looked at the pressure pipe beneath the container.
Three preservation-fluid circulation lines ran down into the floor.
One of them was connected to the lock's hydraulic mechanism.
“Machines are honest.”
No matter what the designer tried to hide, pressure always left behind the direction it flowed.
Aaron loosened the small drain screw on the circulation line.
Blue fluid began leaking out in a thin stream.
As the hydraulic pressure escaped, the remaining three locks loosened at once.
The payoff was immediate.
So was the cost.
The level of blue fluid inside the container began to drop.
A small bubble escaped from the child's mouth.
The needle on the biological-response gauge fell into the yellow zone.
Aaron shoved the locks aside by hand.
“Just a little more.”
The third ring came loose.
The last one was at the back of the container.
The moment he pushed his body into the gap, M-03 rolled down across the tarp.
Aaron caught the automaton's arm with one hand.
A tearing pain shot through his palm.
M-03's head struck the wall of the container.
A very faint blue point of light came on inside its dead eyes.
“Aaron.”
The voice was barely more than static.
He raised his head.
“Are you alive?”
“Incorrect expression.”
M-03's lips barely moved.
“Residual voice circuit.”
The blue point dimmed with every short phrase.
“Can you be restored?”
“Priority changed.”
The automaton pointed at A-08's container.
“That child first.”
It was Johan's voice.
But there was a clearer will in his tone than before.
Aaron released the last lock.
The container came free of the rail.
At the same moment, the shock rifle fired from the direction of the driver's seat.
The truck veered sharply to the right.
As it entered a narrow road between heaps of discarded engines, one of the vehicles following them crashed into an iron wall.
Ria leaned out of the driver's window.
“Jump in thirty seconds!”
“Have you decided on a destination?”
“Somewhere the truck can't follow us!”
Not a very good destination.
But it was good enough for now.
Aaron strapped M-03 to his back and hauled A-08's container up onto the tarp.
The container was heavier than it looked. He couldn't get a proper grip with his bandaged hands.
Ria drove the truck between the heaps of discarded engines.
At the end of the road, an old waste-heat drainage channel yawned open.
Black water flowed along the bottom.
“We're supposed to jump in there?”
“The water's shallow!”
“How do you know how deep it is?”
“I survived it last time!”
The mention of last time did not make him feel better.
A man in black protective goggles climbed onto the truck from behind.
He was holding a short shock baton.
“Put that container down.”
Aaron stood in front of A-08's container.
“Who does it belong to?”
“Calder Heavy Industries recovery property.”
“A place that calls people property must have a lot of paperwork.”
“Move.”
The man raised the shock baton.
Aaron couldn't fight.
Both hands were already ruined, and a powered-down automaton was strapped to his back.
All he could do was look at machines.
Blue sparks jumped from the man's shock baton.
A pressure-type capacitor tube beneath the handle.
An old model that couldn't shed heat if discharged more than three times in a row.
“That's an old piece of equipment.”
The man's eyebrow twitched.
“So?”
“On the fourth discharge, it explodes.”
“That's a bluff—”
The man swung the baton.
Aaron ducked.
The first discharge scorched the tarp.
The second struck the container's restraint.
The third grazed Aaron's shoulder.
His entire arm seized up, but he didn't back away.
The man raised the baton a fourth time.
Aaron threw the screwdriver at the capacitor tube.
The metal tip lodged in the overheated tube's connection.
Blue sparks surged backward into the handle.
The man dropped the baton.
A small explosion tore apart his wrist guard.
As he staggered, Ria fired the shock rifle from the driver's seat.
The metal projectile struck the man's chest plate.
He was flung off the truck.
“Now!”
Ria locked the steering wheel and climbed onto the roof.
The truck was racing toward the edge of the channel.
Aaron and Ria crouched with A-08's container between them.
“Push on three.”
“M-03 is here too.”
“It's strapped to your back.”
“What if I get out first?”
“Save the container first.”
Ria's answer came quickly.
Aaron didn't have time to complain.
“One.”
The channel drew closer.
“Two.”
The truck's front wheels rolled onto the sheet of metal at the edge.
“Three.”
They pushed the container at the same time.
A-08's preservation container fell into the channel.
Aaron threw himself after it.
Black water closed over his entire body.
The bottom was shallower than he'd expected, and the impact was harder than he'd expected.
M-03, strapped to his back, pressed him down.
He twisted underwater and broke back to the surface.
Ria was holding the container.
In the distance, the truck crashed into a wall of discarded engines.
Red flames leapt up with the explosion.
The pursuing vehicles stopped above the channel.
There was no obvious way down right away.
Spitting out water, Aaron made his way toward A-08's container.
Most of the preservation fluid had drained away.
The biological-response gauge needle trembled at the end of the yellow zone.
“We have to open it.”
Ria checked the lock.
“If we open it from outside, the shock could kill them.”
“It's better than dying inside.”
Aaron pulled the emergency-release handle.
The transparent cover opened with a burst of steam.
The child fell forward.
Ria caught them in her arms.
Their body was cold, but they were still breathing.
A cloth cord like the one he'd seen in his memory was tied around the child's wrist.
When Aaron reached out, the child's eyes slowly opened.
They were gray.
The child stared at Aaron's face for a long moment.
“Do you remember who you are?”
Instead of answering, the child's hand rose.
Cold fingers touched Aaron's temple.
Deep inside his mind, a door that had been locked began to tremble.
In a cracked voice, the child said,
“Aaron.”
His name.
Ria's arms tightened.
The child's next words were even softer.
“I came to give you back your memories.”