I try again to ask what is being learned, but I cannot move my jaw or lips.

I cannot move. I cannot speak.

“Elevated circulation pump rate,” says one of the technicians.

Nathan bends over me, his face filling my vision.

“Hey, buddy, relax. This won’t hurt.” That is what he said when they were beating Proto with a hockey stick. He smiles down at me. “We’re just going to remove your brain.”

“Once your brain is out, we’ll plug it into the computer and run some simulations to see how you learn under conditions of accelerated experience.”

“What does that mean?” I would say if I were capable of speaking. I would also tell him that my circulation pump is beating so quickly it feels as though it might burst out of my chest.

Nathan looks at me. Not like the other technicians are looking at me, through readouts on their computers, or just seeing little bits of me one system at a time. Nathan looks like he’s trying to see me.

“I’m sure you’ve got some questions. Accelerated experience means that instead of experiencing the world like you do now, in real time, from moment to moment, you’ll experience hundreds of hours in seconds. Remember when you went grocery shopping?”

Nathan must have read about that in Gina’s files.

“It’ll be like that, but many, many times over. This way, you’ll gain experience a lot faster. You’ll learn a lot faster. That’ll be awesome, right?”

I don’t know quite what to think.

It will be good to learn faster. To learn more. To more efficiently fulfill my purpose.

But I want to experience and learn with my brain still inside my body. I want to choose where my brain resides.

“Okay, I’m ready,” says a technician. “Hand me the drill, please.”

Why do they need a drill? Does this have something to do with finding the X-module? If the module, whatever it is, is located inside my brain, then it makes sense to look inside the physical structure of my cognitive processor to find it.

I wonder why Nathan is not mentioning the X-module.

I think what he is doing is a form of lying.

Lying is saying something that is not true, but it is also not saying something that is true.

I wish Nathan were not lying to me.

I wish I were not here now.

I wish I were at home with Gina.

I wish I had never run into the street to save the Chihuahua.

Nathan steps away again, outside my view. All I can see is the ceiling. It is white. The lights are bright.

“Uh-oh, there’s a problem,” says a technician.

“What problem?” That’s Nathan’s voice.

“The UM-2112’s malfunctioning. Give me a second. . . . Yeah. This unit’s busted.”

“Don’t we have another drill?” Nathan asks.