“What are you talking about? The world is going to end, and the World Government had to make some hard choices, some really diff—”

“Ask yourself: Why didn’t they just kill the Regulars? Why did they turn them into monsters?” I yell. “It’s because of their programming! This isn’t the World Government, it’s …” I sigh and shake my head. It doesn’t matter, he won’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe that the world leaders have been taken over by artificial intelligence if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

I think I’ve bought myself enough time. I think I have enough replenished energy now.

“It’s who?” Jacob asks, his eyes narrowing.

“Not who,” I reply, “what.”

“Okay, then what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I look into the young guard’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Jacob.”

I run at him.

Jacob moves quickly, turning and running out of the room. He tries to slam the door shut but I’m too fast. I reach out a hand, forcing it between the thick metal of the door and the concrete frame. I hear the bones in my fingers crunch as Jacob slings the door toward himself. The pain is incredible. I clench my jaw and muffle the scream that forces its way into my mouth.

I close my eyes and breathe through the pain as I pull the door open, the agony doubling in my contorted hand, fingers bending and bowed, blood already pooling beneath the skin, turning into storm cloud bruises.

“Wait, wait!” Jacob cries as I grab him—by the collar with my good hand—and drag him back into my cell.

“Code fourteen in cell three-nineteen!” Jacob calls.

I throw the boy onto my bed, grab his gun, and aim it at him.

“Lens,” I say, holding out my hand.

“Wh-what?” he stammers.

I push the barrel of the USW rifle against his forehead. “Give me your Lens.”

He reaches a shaking hand up to his eye and removes the translucent contact lens. I take it from him and place it over my own eye. My vision is now filled with a three-dimensional heads-up display that I control with my vision. I find the menu labeled STASIS and activate my bed. The paralysis needle pierces Jacob’s skin and he falls immediately lifeless.

I look down at the paralyzed boy-soldier on my bed.

“Sorry, Jacob,” I mutter, and move quickly to the open door.

My bare feet slap against the grated metal floor. I assess my surroundings as fast as I can.

Third floor, cube-shaped building, walkways around each floor, approximately two hundred cells per floor.

And then I freeze. I notice that every cell in the place is open, apart from the four that are next to mine.

“Where the hell are all the Block inmates?” I wonder aloud.