He nods in reply. “I’m not proud of it. In fact, I despise myself for it. It is the driving force behind the creation of Purgatory. I am an old man trying to atone for his sins before the world ends.”

“You’ve done more than enough to make up for your past mistakes,” Molly says, resting her hand on top of Dr. Price’s.

“Easy for you to say,” Malachai spits, speaking to Molly but glaring at the doctor. “You were never in the Loop, you were never experimented on like a rat so that the Alts could have nice things.”

“You’re right to be angry,” Dr. Price says. “What I did, who I was, is unjustifiable. It took me a long time to realize that.”

“They’re killing people like you,” I say. “Happy—it’s rounding up Alts that dared to speak out against the slaughter of Regulars, and deleting them.”

“I know,” Dr. Price replies, a world of sadness swimming in his eyes. “Some of these people were my friends. You must understand that once I realized what was going on, once I figured out that Happy had become sentient, once I had accessed all its monstrous plans, I knew I could not be a part of it. I know how that seems; I was a part of the problem until the problem became my problem. I don’t deny my shortcomings, but my eyes had been opened, I wanted to atone, but I could not simply announce Happy’s plans to the world. I’d be executed before I could hit send. I snuck away, built this place, and sent out coded messages to five friends, who in turn were allowed to send out a message once more. Slowly we built an army.”

“So, what now?” I ask. “What are you doing to try and stop Happy now?”

“That’s it,” Malachai says, placing his hands on the table. “Why will no one answer that question? What’s going on here? Where’s the strategizing? The plan of attack? The theories? How the hell are we going to beat those robot bastards?”

Dr. Price smiles. “We’re not.”

Malachai’s eyes widen, and then he laughs. “I knew it,” he says. “I knew it the moment I saw this place. You’re spending your time dancing in cyberspace while your friends die in the real world.”

“There is nothing we can do,” Dr. Price replies, his voice serene.

“You could help!” Malachai says.

“Purgatory is how we help,” the old man replies. “Purgatory is sanctuary; Purgatory is shelter.”

“Purgatory is cowardice,” Malachai snaps.