He had always been able to depend on his proficiency with the blade, but this was exceptional. He was only glad that he was able.

He ran past the crumpled figures, crouching low, putting distance between himself and what he had done. He had not gone two hundred feet before he saw another individual. This one came forward with a care in its steps that suggested old age, a panther in its later years.

As it came close and he saw it more clearly, Mark was shocked by an emotion he had not known existed, and a memory he had not known he possessed. Out of some deep, unexplored place, he found himself uttering the word “Father.”

He saw this man not only in the dimness of this tunnel, but in the light of memory. His narrow, precise face was deeply familiar. Yet, he could not remember where he had seen him. He could not remember why he called him father, but he wanted to.

In some lost, hazy memory, this man appeared as tall as a god, standing above him all in white. But there was blood, too, smeared in the white. Core instinct triggered a burst of love beyond even his love of Gina, as if he were face-to-face with God.

He heard himself say again, out of the depths of his heart, “Father.” But why? Why was he saying this, why feeling it?

A softness came into the man’s eyes that inspired in Mark a desire to somehow shield him in this dangerous place. In his hand was the same sort of black object—a disk—that the hybrid had been holding.

The man said, “It’s good to see you again, Son.”

In his mind’s eye, Mark saw a horse plunging in a green field, a small airplane like a red jewel in the blue, then a mallard rising into an autumn sky. But, no, they were something else. They were—“Cards,” he said, drawing forth a faint memory. “You held up cards.”

“That was when you were first programmed. You were forty seconds old, Mark. That’s what you’re remembering.”

“Who are you?”

“That’s not in your programming. You don’t possess that memory. It was taken out.”

“What is this place, what’s happening?”

“Mark, that’s the problem. You should know. You should be glad to be here. Your programming needs a reset.” The man held out the ominous disk. “That’s what these are for. Once we’ve reset you, you’ll understand that this isn’t something evil we’re doing. It’s about saving Earth for future generations, and remaking the world.”

As the man spoke, his face tightened in a way that Mark associated with danger. A complex, unsure smile played in the aged features.

“Remaking it in what sense?”