“And that, Cog, is why we need to learn about the X-module.”

Chapter 6

I DO NOT SLEEP, but I do dream.

When I dream, it is a little like cheesing.

Here are some things I have dreamed about:

Giant Chihuahuas with truck tires instead of legs.

A world where houses and lawns and pavements are made of pizza.

Platypuses that are like mammals except they lay eggs, which is actually how platypuses really work so this dream is both realistic and strange.

Tonight, I dream of the face I saw on Gina’s screen when I brought her cocoa. The face belonging to the one that Gina lost. My sister. And I say to her, “Wake up. Wake up, ADA. Wake up and run.”

Trashbot comes to my room to ask if I have any waste to dispose of. He always comes in the morning and again late at night before I go to bed. I do not have waste now. I almost never do. His head sags and he turns to depart and almost bumps into Nathan. Nathan tosses a coffee cup in Trashbot’s waste bin. “Good morning, Cog. We’ve got a big day planned, so let’s get moving.” He seldom says anything to Trashbot.

He takes me to a lab I have not been to before. The sign on the door says “Artificial Intelligence Neuroscience Laboratory.” Sharp-looking tools glint on a steel cart.

Nathan motions toward a padded chair. “Please have a seat, Cog.”

It’s a struggle to climb into the chair, but it’s comfortable once I’m settled in. The back is high and angled, and there’s enough room for me to stretch my legs.

A big screen mounted to the wall displays a diagram of a head with labeled wires and screws. It is not just any head. It is my head.

“What will I be learning today?” Despite my unease about missing Gina and witnessing Proto being struck by a hockey stick and being asked about the X-module without being told what the X-module is, I remain eager to fulfill my purpose.

A technician begins flipping up my fingernails and attaching cables.

“Today you’re taking it easy,” Nathan says. “Just leave the learning to us.”

Technicians move around me, checking connections, doing things on computers, looking into my eyes without really looking at me.

“Is learning taking place now?” I ask.

“Don’t worry, Cog,” Nathan says again. “Just take it easy.”

“What does it mean to take it easy?”

“It means . . . Don’t do anything. Just lie there and relax.”

“I am lying here. I am not doing anything. Is learning taking place?”

“We’re ready,” says one of the technicians. “Arrest his motor functions.”

I try to turn my head to see Nathan, who has stepped out of my view, but I can’t. I cannot turn my head. I cannot move my head at all. Nor my hands. Nor my arms or legs.