We arrive at the shore of Lake Erie in Sandusky, Ohio. The water is gray as pencil lead, the wind whipping up spray and white-crested waves. It’s early morning, and we are parked in an empty lot across from a corner grocery store, a gift shop, and a bait-and-tackle shop. In the distance, steel skeletal structures emerge from a thin fog. Car’s map informs me it’s an amusement park. I have never been to an amusement park, and I would like to learn about being amused. Instead, we must go across the lake, to the island in the mist I can barely make out. Above the dim, gray shapes of rocky cliffs and cedar trees rises a black cylindrical tower. I believe we will find Gina there. Because if she’s not there, the next closest uniMIND facilities are in Germany and China, both of which are across vast oceans. We were lucky to get this far. Making it halfway or more around the globe seems unlikely. Gina has to be in the Tower.

But I know wishing and reality are very different things.

Car shares information about the Tower stored in her memory: “A ferry transports uniMIND workers to the island twice a day. There’s also a small landing strip for airplanes and helicopters. uniMIND maintains a private security force to deal with trespassers. Anyone without authorization is turned away.”

“It’ll be hard to get there undetected,” I say to nobody in particular.

“No, it will be impossible to get there undetected,” ADA says.

“What about Car’s stealth mode?”

“My stealth mode can hide us from helicopters at night and from passing cars on a highway, but it can’t keep us hidden from humans close up. It will be of little assistance here.”

My circulation pump weighs down my chest.

We came all this way. We faced police and drones and Wiener Mountain. We’ve had many bad experiences, yet here, so close to our destination, none of the lessons can help. If I am a machine built for learning, then I have failed to fulfill my purpose. All my cognitive development is pointless.

“I have a plan,” ADA says.

There is no hint of doubt in her voice. I know her programming and construction are capable of expressing hesitation and fear. I have seen these things in her. But the only thing I see in her now is determination.

So, I learn yet another lesson from our journey. I learn that when I run out of hope, I can still count on my friends.

Then ADA says, “To execute my plan we will need to open our skulls with a power drill and remove our brains.”

And one more lesson: Friends are overrated.

ADA tells us her plan in detail. It is a terrible plan, and it all hinges on having access to a UM-2112 power drill with a complete set of drill bits.