Inside, the volcano that was his soul roared and erupted, but on the surface nothing whatsoever happened.

There was no question now: Mark Bryan, the biological machine, was no longer going to be treated as human. He may have defeated the other hybrids, but perhaps he should have joined them. Then, at least, he could have indulged the illusion that he was somebody and he mattered.

He felt himself rising toward the chopper, saw faces peering down from its cargo bay, intent scientific faces, not military ones. Closer he went, and closer, absolutely unable to move, begging God, begging his own soul, begging his body, to let him somehow break free of this electromagnetic enchantment, so that he could rise up and vent his rage at his oppressors, these immeasurably heartless, cruel people who had built a machine that knew itself, and knew with greatest anguish, that it had no life and no reality outside its programming.

He wanted to die. But was that even possible for a thing such as him? He wanted to die, but he also wanted to hold Gina in his arms just once as an act of conscious, intentional love. But where was she now? Lost in the explosion, he supposed. Vaporized.

In the past, he’d prayed his soldier’s simple prayer: God, let me live for my mission. Now he changed his prayer. He prayed, God, let me die for myself.

He was drawn up into the bay of the helicopter and heard its door slide closed behind him.

“You hear me, soldier?”

It was a young officer, a lieutenant. He looked about twelve.

“I know you can understand me. I know you’re scared. But you’re going to be okay. We’ve got your schematics, your control protocols, your instruction set. Nobody’s gonna turn you off, don’t worry. That will not happen. You’re hurt bad, soldier, and in a lot of pain. We know you won’t say it, but we can see it. You need a rest, buddy.”

Buddy? He wanted to say, I’m a goddamn colonel, little boy. But nothing came out, not even a whisper.

The chopper trembled, and he saw the forest begin to slide away, and then they were over the speeding waves of the bay.

He tried to see the city but could not move his head and so closed his eyes. The insubordinate kid was right, he was really tired, with as high a pain load as he had ever known.

His manuals. His instruction set. And a disk that controlled who he was, his very soul. A disk!

For all his strength, for all the love that was in his heart, he could no longer deny the raw truth: He was not a mechanically enhanced man, but a machine enhanced by some humanity.