She entered the room’s second chamber, and had to squint against a sudden burst of light. At first she thought someone was shining a powerful flashlight into her eyes. Checking for drunkenness, Park thought, squinting. Looking for dilated pupils, a loss of control.

Then she bit down a yell. There was—there was a robot here, standing in a little cell or observation room in the middle of the chamber: a large, mechanical-looking spider with articulated metal limbs and a large box propped up on a little platform, like a head atop a neck. A cracked monitor comprised the top half of the box, presumably where a user could input commands or read data; and below that, there was a transparent half with a nest of glowing tubes and complex-looking tools inside it. Its innards . . . or its brain.

A wide, transparent one-way screen was set into the wall, flashing with readouts as it monitored the . . . it must be a HARE explorer, Park thought. It was standing placidly in the middle of the room, its big boxy monitor pointed at Park as if it could directly see her—though that seemed impossible. Where were its eyes? Did it have any? Park’s heart stuttered in her chest. What was it doing here?

She stood still, a good distance away from the cell. What did any of this mean? Why were the conscripted keeping an explorer robot captive? And what did it have to do with the androids’ delusions?

All at once her eyes caught something else in the far corner, dark and dormant. Another cryogenic pod. Park’s stomach clenched, and the sour-milk taste of fear filled her throat. What was that? Who was that? There was something floating within . . .

Before she could move, the HARE suddenly spoke to her. She heard its voice clearly, despite the glass interface, the wall between them. And her heart jumped when it spoke: its voice lacked the mechanical stiffness and timbre of a robot’s. It sounded, very startlingly, like a human.

Her brain clamored. She had never heard of a mere explorer bot possessing such a convincing voice before. And even though it lacked a face, there was—an affect to it. She couldn’t explain it, but it felt very human.

“So they told you, after all,” the HARE said, with pleasant politeness. “We didn’t think Jimex would do it. The synthetics must trust you deeply.”