“Most of your memories are real,” she said. “I want you to know that. I created you over ten years ago, as part of my training with the VNS. We wanted you as lifelike as possible. More importantly, we wanted you to believe you were real. We did create the first few years of your life within Lifeblood Deep to give you a foundation, but from that moment on, from when you were about five or six, your memories—every one of them—actually happened. We fabricated nothing.”

Michael tried to grasp some meaning out of all she said. “How can you say nothing was fabricated? I’m a computer program!”

“Yes, that’s true. But within the world of the Deep, you actually had each and every one of those memories from the last decade of your life. With your parents. With Helga. With your friends.”

“And then you took it all away from me.” Michael was drained of any fight. He hated this woman, and he was so exhausted.

Weber stared at a spot on the table. “I take it he’s told you the truth?”

And with that simple sentence, she proved that everything Kaine had said was true. Michael stumbled out of his chair, barely made it to the couch, collapsed onto it. He buried his head in his arms and swore he’d never get up again.

There was the sound of a chair moving and a few steps; then Weber was standing right above him. He could almost feel her shadow across his shoulders like a blanket. The door opened. Heavy footsteps. The rustle of clothing. Michael knew it was her people, but refused to give them the satisfaction of looking.

Weber crouched over him, put a hand on his back as she leaned down to whisper into his ear. “I’ve gone too far to turn back now. Way too far. I need to keep going for the sake of the world.”

Michael flinched as if she’d hurt him.

Agent Weber of VirtNet Security stood up. “Do it.”

Rough hands grabbed Michael by the arms.

2

He didn’t fight them, the two men dressed in fatigues. He realized that Weber had gotten her wish—she now had armies at her disposal, by the looks of it. And who knew what else? Or how many people she’d taken over with Tangents to get what she wanted? Michael went with them quietly—down the hall, into the elevator, through the lobby, out the doors of the hotel, into the back of a car—but his mind was a tornado of noise, sorting out all that he knew and trying to figure out what in the world he could do about it. Before long, they were on a plane and in the air.

He refused to talk, refused to be intimidated by the guards. And they let him be, although they made it very clear he wasn’t to touch his EarCuff.

Hours passed.