“Drive to my house,” I said. “We need my mom, and we need to get there before they get us.”

I unwrapped the shirt, thinking I’d try to get it on even tighter, when I noticed a glint beneath all the red.

“There’s something wrong with your arm,” I said.

“No shit.”

“No, seriously,” I said. “There is something very wrong with your arm.”

“What?”

“Well,” I said, taking a deep breath and fighting off a wave of nausea, “this is the arm you had surgery on, right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “My arm, my knee, my chest, and my head.”

“Well, I don’t know how to break the news, but—”

“What?”

“Your arm—what I can see of it, at least—your radius and ulna—”

“What?”

“It’s metal.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. “There are some pins and maybe a metal plate.”

“This is more than pins and a plate.”

He didn’t answer for a long time, and when he finally looked down, I had his arm wrapped up tight with my shirt again.

“Look, keep driving to our house, and we’ll look at it there,” I said.

“Okay, you’re freaking me out now.”

“Jordan, I know what bones look like. And what you’ve got going on down there is … different. You know how you make your retro Six Million Dollar Man jokes? Well, in fact …”

“I’m bionic?”

He looked down at his arm again and brought his left hand over to pull off my shirt wrapping. The truck swerved.

“Keep your hand on the wheel, for God’s sake!” I ordered.

“You just told me I’m not human anymore!”

“No, I didn’t. Take a deep breath, get us home safely, and I’ll tell you what I saw.” I took my own advice and breathed in deep. “Your bone is black and shiny, like obsidian or ebony.”

“You said metal.”

“I did. That dog did a number on your arm, but the bone remains smooth and slick and hard to the touch. Okay?”

“How can that be okay?” Jordan asked, his eyes getting panicky.

“Jordan, you’ve known something is different about you.”

“Yeah, but, shit, I didn’t think I actually was bionic. What the hell is happening?”

“I have no idea, but please don’t flip out on me,” I pleaded.

“All right, I’ll remain cool, even though the most powerful supercomputer in the history of the world wants to occupy my body. With me still in it.”

“That is problematic,” I said. “But we got away. And we shot it and Alpha.”

“Right. Problem solved.”

I laughed in spite of myself.

“And then there’s that whole end-of-the-world business,” Jordan continued. “That would be problematic, too. Does Ishango really have the power to do that?”

“Let’s make sure we don’t have to find out.”

“Easier said than done, girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?”

“It’s an expression,” he said defensively. “But … true?”

“Ishango is building itself, herself, with those nanobots,” I said, not about to get into that girlfriend business. “We have to assume she’s programmed to carry out her mission.”