“Yes,” Evrim said, without hesitation. “I will help. As I said—you are not alone in this.”

They had been walking down the road for several minutes when Evrim said, “You were talking about not being able to tell when the colors started to come back into the world.”

“Yes.”

“I think they have started to come back.”

“I’m glad.”

“I think it began when you arrived.”

“That would be nice. I’d like to think that, too.”

Evrim stopped. “There is something else, Ha. Something you need to know.”

“You can tell me.”

“I lied to you, before.”

“About what?”

“About myself. About what I am. Dr. Mínervudóttir-Chan has been lying to the world for so long about me, it has become like a habit for me to lie as well. The truth is, it was never her intent to create an android that could be just like a human. Not for a moment. What she wanted was to create a mind that was human, to a degree—but improved. Wiped clean of its limitations, as she saw them. She wanted to create a mind that could learn perfectly, and totally: a mind free from forgetfulness, from the need to rest or search for food. A mind that could contemplate every moment it had ever experienced with perfect recall, and use that knowledge. She knew this wouldn’t be acceptable to the rest of the world, so she told them she wanted me to be human—assembled from human data, imbued with human thought, nothing more. The interviews, the tests—they were all designed to convince the world that I was like them. So they would accept me. But I am not like them. I never was. And there is more.”

“Tell me.”

“DIANIMA bought the archipelago to study the octopuses, but not for the reasons you might be thinking, or want. What Dr. Mínervudóttir-Chan wants—what she has always wanted—is to build better minds. She knows the octopuses, if they prove to be as intelligent as we think they are, if they prove to be completely different from humans but also sentient like us—will hold the keys to making those better minds. Completely different neural wiring. Structures we can’t imagine. New systems for thought that no one could have dreamed of. A language that is writing and speech at once, borne on the skin. These things open up new possibilities for her to explore. Not just improvements—total overhauls to our ways of thinking about how minds and language work.”

“That’s fine,” Ha said. “In order to study them, she has to keep them safe. Has to keep their habitat safe. That’s a common goal we have. If she wants to build better AI minds from what we find out about the octopuses, I couldn’t care less. At least that will keep DIANIMA invested in this place.”