He forgot himself, he forgot Gina, the mystery of their pasts, the anguish of being something programmed, he forgot it all as his consciousness raced through the gridwork and into the antennae of the drone, and he heard Gina’s distant voice, young and strong shouting, “Mark, don’t let it take you, don’t let it,” and strove against it, but his consciousness kept dwindling. He dragged his mind away from the collective mind of the hybrids, and as deep as he could into the fortress of his throbbing body … and then into—

A classroom. Outside, a city hums. There’s the unmistakable clang of a cable car. He and Gina are together. They’re the only students. The blackboard is dense with equations, and he feels the nostalgia of deep loss.

Somewhere, sometime, they had been kids together.

But when had this happened? He’d only been with Gina once … hadn’t he?

“Mark! Mark!”

Yes! I’m here. And I have it, I feel it as I feel my own bones and muscles and nerves. I am this thing, this machine.

Just now, he could will it to do his bidding. And he did will it. He willed it to go down, to race down, to go faster and faster.

Blinding light. Hurting. Then a voice: “Jump! Now!”

Out of this perfect balance? Never.

Coals fell past him, and he watched their graceful, arcing movement as they dropped through the dark of his mind.

“We can’t stay here, Mark, we have to go!”

Harsh wind hit him, and he knew that he had to lift himself out or fall with this thing.

She pulled at him, then she was gone, her face terrible as she fell away—and he saw that the whole thing was disintegrating around them, that the great panels were drooping and falling, that the antennae were becoming long, writhing strands that flailed away in the air, and press helicopters and jets were maneuvering desperately to escape the great, collapsing ruin.

His body was filled with a deep and delightful warmth that spread from the places where the golden nodes in the walls still connected to his nervous system. He understood that he was still plugged in, and his enemy was trying to capture him with pleasure, so he would fall with the machine.

It had all been another deception. He’d been meant to get into this cell. He’d been lured.

So was she still the slave of her program? Had she cleverly tricked him?

He twisted, he pulled at himself, but it was no use—until Gina returned, incredibly, impossibly falling and flying back down into the crashing ruin, ripping aside debris as she came.

Her hands grasped his uniform shirt, and there was a noise now, a roar of dismay so intense that it might have come from the throat of Satan himself, and Mark was also falling, and she was clutching him, the ground rushing up at them.