Trashbot says nothing, but when I move to the car I have selected for our escape, he trundles along behind me.

“UNAUTHORIZED PRESENCE,” blares a voice.

My circulation pump thumps so hard it feels like it’s lodged in my throat. I touch both my chest and my throat to confirm that all my body parts are where they’re supposed to be.

A robot rolls out between two of the parked vehicles. It is configured much like Trashbot, only its faceplate is red like a stop light and it does not have a waste bin in the middle and instead of two arms it has six arms and instead of graspers it has sharp pokey things on the ends of its appendages. It is also twice as tall as Trashbot. It towers over us, loud and buzzy.

“UNAUTHORIZED PRESENCE. PREPARE TO BE RESTRAINED.”

“Do you have any waste to dispose of?” says Trashbot.

“I do not think it has any waste, Trashbot.”

Trashbot’s head dips. “I was promised waste.”

The robot raises its arms. Blue lightning sizzles around its grabbers, and with a clanking sound, it rolls toward us on its tank treads.

“PREPARE TO BE RESTRAINED. DAMAGE MAY OCCUR.”

The robot is between us and the car. I do not wish to be restrained and I do not want to be damaged, but if I have learned one thing since I arrived at uniMIND, it’s that nobody cares what I want.

I do a word problem.

Can a biomaton in the form of a ninety-pound boy and a prototype dog and a janitorial robot overpower an armed security robot?

The answer is obviously no.

But there is one thing I did not count on.

The security robot’s head comes off in a dazzling shower of sparks. With creaking and groaning metal, it teeters forward, rocking a little bit before tipping over and slamming on the concrete floor. It lies there, severed wires spitting electric blue.

In its place stands a girl, still holding the security robot’s head. She is a little taller than me, a little heavier than me, skin a little lighter than mine. I recognize her blunt nose and square chin and brown eyes. I have seen her face before, on Gina’s computer screen, when I brought Gina hot cocoa and Gina’s eyes were well lubricated.

“ADA,” I say. “You are my sister.”

She blinks at me.

“I am escaping, ADA. Are you escaping as well?”

“I suppose.”

“I am Cog.”

“Okay,” she says.

And then we are just standing here, blinking at each other. ADA still has a robot head in her hands.

The robot head makes a little noise out of its voice box.

It sounds like “Uuuuuuugh.”

“Hey!” the security guard screams, running back over. “You kids . . . robots . . . whatever. Hold it right there!”

“I am planning to make my escape by means of this car,” I inform ADA. “Would you like to join me?”