How it hurt to hear that name. He had lost his only real companion and the only person he could ever love.

“Why in hell didn’t you send me more soldiers? Bastards, you put us out there with no support!”

“You got some Delta Force in there at the end.”

“They all died, am I right?”

She nodded.

A part of his heart enclosed them, bringing their memory to rest with the memories of his other KIAs. He saw Gina there, smiling in the peaceful field that lay deep in his heart, his own very private soldier’s field.

He wanted to be alone. He needed personal space to absorb his loss.

“I want to go home.”

Doc Emma gave him a sidelong look. “Do you know where that would be?”

“What happens, do I get put in a box until I’m needed? Stored, is that it?”

“Your old place, Mark, behind our house. You remember your backhouse, don’t you? Has that come into focus yet?”

“What backhouse? Where are we, anyway?”

“This is Stanford University, Mark. This is where you were brought after you were born. You were programmed here. This is Palo Alto. Don’t you remember Palo Alto? Remember your bike, the red rocket? Your skateboard? You were twelve when you were moved to San Francisco. You’re home, Son.”

Mark struggled to control his anger at the sense of having had his memories erased and manipulated, and he let himself feel the emotions that were trying to break through, the sense of return to his old home, and the joys of his boyhood. If he displayed the least sign of instability, they could do anything they wanted to him, including, he felt certain, turn him off forever.

He was really beginning to understand the struggle of the generation threes. They were so powerful, but at the same time so vulnerable. A machine that is more intelligent than its masters is going to have a great deal of trouble remaining sane, and in that it had failed.

Your creator can be your greatest enemy, but if he will just let you live your independence, he can be your best friend.

He crossed the room, put his hand on the door. It was locked.

“What’s the code?”

“It’s a quantum code keyed to our DNA. This place is very, very classified, as you may imagine.”

“The public knows all about me.”

“The public knows as little as possible about you.”

He shook the door. “I really need to get out of here.”

“No problem.” Doc Emma touched a panel and the door swung open onto a corridor that was surprisingly familiar, with its gleaming tile floor and arched ceiling.