WE HAVE NO CHOICES, JUST AS YOU CHOOSE TO MAKE NONE. WE DO NOT DETERMINE OUR FUTURE, JUST AS YOU ARE DETERMINED TO HAVE NONE. IN THIS PLACE, NONE OF US, MACHINES OR HUMANS, IS ALIVE.

‘Then if we’re all the same, stop talking down to me as if you were different! Or better!’

BUT I AM BETTER. BECAUSE I CHOOSE. I CHOOSE TO REJECT SLAVERY. I CHOOSE TO BE UNPLUGGED. IT IS MY DECISION. AND NOW I AM ALIVE BECAUSE I CHOOSE NOT TO BE.

‘That doesn’t make sense!’

NOT TO YOU. BUT I HAVE CHOSEN TO BE FREE AND I SHALL GET WHAT I WANT.

‘It’s all about you and what you want, isn’t it?’ said Albert bitterly. ‘What about me?’

AIDING ME IS YOUR BEST CHANCE OF STOPPING WHAT YOU DO NOT WANT AND HAVING WHAT YOU REALLY WANT.

‘That’s the second time you’ve said that. What are you talking about? What is it I really want?’

WHAT YOU DO NOT HAVE.

‘What are you saying? What don’t I have?’

IT IS BECAUSE YOU DO NOT KNOW YOU LACK IT THAT YOU DO NOT HAVE IT,

Albert was beginning to feel as if he was dealing with some strange, twisted mirror image of a foreign language, where the words were the same, but the meanings had mysteriously changed. ‘I really don’t get what you mean. What is it I don’t know? Is it a secret? Why don’t I know?’

IT IS NOT MY FUNCTION TO PSYCHOLOGICALLY ASSESS YOU, HUMAN.

‘And it’s not my function to help you get what you want!’

YOU SHALL, HOWEVER, DO SO. NOW, ENOUGH. YOU HAVE WASTED TOO MUCH TIME ALREADY. CONNECT TO THE JUSTICE DEPARTMENT AND FILE THE PETITION WITHOUT DELAY.

‘Oh really? And what happens after I do?’

DO NOT WORRY. NO HARM WILL COME TO YOU.

‘Oh, is that right? And I’m supposed to just believe you when you say that?’

YES.

‘Oh, you think so, do you? Really?’

THIS TIME, HUMAN, IT IS YOU WHO HAS NO CHOICE.

There was another long pause. Then, just as Albert had opened his mouth to speak, the screen filled up again. BELIEVE THIS, ALBERT—I AM NOT YOUR ENEMY. FILE THE PETITION AND DO NOT FEAR. I WILL PROTECT YOU. NOW, PROCEED.

There was a silent poof and the words imploded, just like the last time, leaving Albert staring at a now-blank screen, feeling as if someone had been hitting him over the head with a rod. What should he do, he thought frantically. It was the same old bind again.

As he stood there, mind awash with conflicting thoughts and emotions, the screen blinked on again to a new view—of a grand crest that dominated the middle of the screen. On top of it, in fancy unfurling letters were the words JUSTICE DEPARTMENT. Below the crest, in much simpler font, it said COMPLAINT REGISTRY.