“The government?” Kina scoffs. “You think the government is behind this? You really don’t know anything.”

The sound of footsteps running up the metal staircases.

“The guns don’t work on us,” Kina says, grabbing Jacob and turning him toward the oncoming soldiers. “But they work on you, right?”

“Oh shit,” Jacob mutters, affirming Kina’s assumption.

The first to appear at the top of the stairs are two hosts, their eyes glowing bright white. They are both clearly Alts, both women, tall and athletic. Both clearly benefiting from the pre-life cosmetic improvements that all Alts are eligible for. In addition to their looks and their obvious strength, it is clear that they have Mechanized Oxygen Replenishment systems where their lungs used to be, as they don’t appear to be breathing hard at all despite having just run up three flights of stairs. No doubt they have Automated Pulmonary Moderators instead of human hearts as well.

“Inmates 9-70-981 and 9-72-104. Cease all activity and return to your cells,” the slightly shorter one orders. Her eyes briefly glow orange, and both our cell doors swing open once again.

“I’ll shoot him,” Kina says, pressing the gun harder against the side of Jacob’s head. “I will kill him.”

“This will not change the outcome of the scenario,” the taller host says, stepping forward. “Kill him or don’t kill him. You will end up back in your cells.”

I look over the edge of the railings—a four-story fall probably wouldn’t kill me, especially with the enhanced healing that the Alts have equipped us with. I realize that this is a moot point anyway, as there are nets separating every level.

“We’re not going back in there,” Kina says, her voice shaking.

More footsteps approach and three more soldiers emerge into the corridor. These ones must be Tier Three or Tier Two soldiers: humans who have agreed to help the government—at least they think it’s the government—in exchange for their lives and a place on the Arc, a shelter in which they can survive the end of the world.

The shorter of the two hosts turns to the first soldier to arrive, a good-looking blond man. “Soldier Ramirez, execute Soldier Smith.”

Without hesitating, the Alt aims his gun at Jacob.

“No!” Jacob manages, before the ultrasonic sound wave hits him in the chest and he falls limp and silent.

“You—you shouldn’t be able to do that,” I say, staring at the bright-eyed host as Kina lets Jacob’s body fall to the floor. Galen Rye had informed me that the AI’s core coding would not allow it to harm or kill a human or give orders that would lead to the harming or death of a human. This was the very reason Happy and its hosts infected humanity with a virus that led people to kill one another: to bypass its programming.

“Things have changed, Inmate 9-70-981.”