Michael looked at Bryson and Sarah and shrugged, then started for the chairs, the words true death ringing in his ears.

4

“Let’s start at the beginning,” the tall woman said once they’d all taken a seat. “You need to know that I am who I say I am before you can trust me.” Helga gave the group a moment to get settled, then turned to Michael directly, looking into his eyes as she spoke. “I was your nanny, Helga. I am Helga. A part of me suspected that we might be Tangents, but you were real to me, Michael. Apart from everything Kaine has done, I think there were many of us who’d taken the leap to sentience—which slows down the Decay process significantly. I know you and I had taken that leap.” She’d begun to stare off into space, as if lost in a desert of old thoughts, then came back just as fast, waving it all away. “My point: you have been and always will be like a son to me. But let me prove it to you.”

Michael furrowed his brow, looking long and hard at her, as he thought through his options. The woman sat forward, leaning toward him, arms resting on her knees, hands clasped. She seemed genuine, her gaze intense and full of pain. The rest of the room was quiet as he focused all his attention on this woman. Helga. His future hung in the balance.

“Okay,” he said, trying to think clearly. “What was my favorite breakfast?”

“Wait a minute,” Bryson said just as their host opened her mouth to speak. “This isn’t going to prove a thing.” He turned to face Michael. “If your nanny was a Tangent, then Kaine could easily know every single detail about your life. An instant download, boom. Or worse, he could’ve programmed her! This is pointless.”

“You’re not helping,” Michael replied. His friend was right, and it was as frustrating as ever.

“No, he’s right,” the woman replied, standing up. “Not about Kaine—but about it being impossible for me to convince you beyond a doubt that I’m Helga. I could talk all day about how you love to eat waffles for breakfast and how when you were barely five years old you begged me to let you read that Stephen King novel and I made you stick to Judy Blume. Or about your broken leg when you were seven, or how many times I caught you trying to sneak into your dad’s Coffin before you were legal. How many nights I brought you cheese and crackers while you studied the coding logs on your NetScreen in bed, or how we worked frantically to clean up after the infamous Sleepover Party Incident before your parents got home from that business trip.”

She paused, a warm smile spread across her face, and Michael could do nothing but stare at her, slack-jawed.