I was floating. Wafting through the air—weightless, soundless—like energy.

I felt pulses beneath my fingers, surges behind my ear, but my body touched no solid and I felt no floor. I wasn't sure if I was standing up or laying down. I wasn't sure of anything at all.

All I remembered was the boot, the man, and the pain. No... I remembered Roger. His frustration, his fear, still rang in my ears, a distant echoing whisper. He hadn't meant to put me in danger, but that's where I ended up. And now?

Where was I?

When I opened my eyes, all I saw was white—white ceilings, white walls, and that floor I couldn't feel. Looking down at my feet, I realized I was standing, but when I stepped forward, I wobbled. Mentally, I knew where I was. I awoke in that dream place, just like last time. Only now, something told me that I shouldn't be here.

"Clara."

I hadn't noticed—or maybe he simply just appeared—but Roger sat in a chair a few feet in front of me. His head was in his hands, fingers pressing hard into his scalp. The folds of his shirt curved around his arms and shoulders. His black shoes tapped repeatedly against the floor.

Taking a step towards him, I extended my hand. "Roger?"

"I should've seen this coming." Roger lifted his head to look at me. I saw the apology in his eyes. "Everything, right there in front of me, and I... I pieced it together all wrong."

"How'd you do that?"

He slammed his fists against his knees, the sound making me jump. That apology shifted into pain, and I saw it all over his face. The blue color in his eyes faded, his face pulled back in a grimace. My natural reaction was to go to him, drop beside his chair, and wrap my arms around him as best I could. He embraced me in seconds. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be." I pulled back and cupped his face. "None of this is your fault. What could you do? You're only one machine."

"Machine?" Roger moved back slightly, looking at me in disbelief. Was what I said wrong? It was the truth. Yet, the look in his eyes pleaded with me to see it differently. "Clara, can't you see..."

"See what?" I slid my thumb along his cheek. "What am I supposed to see?"

"Me." He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his face. "I'm more than data."

More than data. I'd seen an array of emotions from him before, but this was different. There were tears in his eyes. His cheeks were flushed pink. Looking up at him as I sat back on my legs, I tried to figure it all out. Wherever this was, was real, right? At least, it was real for him. Made entirely out of data, it was the space he called home.

I just couldn't understand how it was that I ended up here...

"The men who took you aren't controlled." Roger cleared his throat after a minute and wiped his eyes. "No receptors in their heads."

Chewing my lip, I tried to get him to look at me. "Okay, but how?"

He shrugged, looking ahead into emptiness. "It looks like they either had their implant removed, or never had one to begin with. All receptors give off a signal, like a buzzing fly; happens even when the device isn't in use. But those men...." He covered his mouth entirely with his hand. "I couldn't sense them at all."

I looked down at my hands and my chipped nail polish. The idea that there were unmonitored people out in the world, free from VF hands, seemed impossible. Receptors were required by law; VFs were installations approved by Province officials. To not have either one meant they were Rebels.

And Rebels hadn't existed for over fifty years.

"Clara." Roger moved from his seat and pulled me with him. His hand lifted slowly; his fingers tenderly moved hair from my face. "I said I'd never put you in danger, and I failed. I shouldn't have let you go in that store. I should've found another way."

A single finger slid along my cheek and around my ear, tracing the scar above my receptor. "I should've done my job," he whispered.

Staring up into his eyes, I took in a shaky breath. "Roger, you did all that you could..."

His head dipped to one side. "Do you believe that?"

I nodded.

"Honestly?"

"Yes," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

New tears rimmed his eyes, but he fought them off with a smirk. His lip twitched up as he looked away and moved around me. One by one, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, his head just next to mine. With him so close, I smelled him; a scent that was sweet, but one so unfamiliar that I couldn't name. I held my breath and lost track of thoughts, time. Mentally, I floated back through that white space, and all I thought of were the stars we'd seen that night. That is until I heard his voice.

"I'm going to fix these puzzle pieces before I run out of time." His cheek pressed against mine. "I'm going to make this right."

I couldn't look at him, but I touched him, giving in. Lifting my hands, I grabbed onto his forearms. "Why would you run out of time?"

With his lips against my ear, he whispered his words, "Because the clock is ticking, Clara, and no matter how hard we try, we can't escape fate. Lies will be uncovered. Truths revealed. I just can't let everyone go down for it."

Wait, what?

Turning my head, I watched as he pulled away from me and gave me his back. His head rolled once on his shoulders, his fingers flexing at his sides. "Roger." I reached out and grabbed his sleeve. "What are you saying? W-what does that mean?"

He wouldn't look at me. "It means it's bigger than the men outside, Clara."

"Okay." I inched closer. "Is it because you said you were more than a machine? Is that what it is?"

Roger's body tensed against my touch. I admit, I tried to do what he'd done. I stood close, slipped my arms around his, but he shook me off faster than I could move. He turned to face me with bright, glistening eyes.

I chewed on my lip. "Roger, what are you?"

A part of me knew I wouldn't get a full answer from him. I just didn't expect him to laugh. It was quiet, but there. His chuckle echoed as he took another step into his white abyss.

"Tell me," I demanded.

With his right hand around his neck, his left pulled at the collar of his shirt. He smirked again and blinked away a single tear that wanted to slide down his cheek. "Why, Clara? What does it matter?" His lips moved for the rest of his words, but I didn't hear it come from his mouth.

I heard it in my head, echoing from the receptor behind my ear. "You're dreaming, right?"

♦

"Roger!"

Shouting his name, I gasped for air as I shot up from a mess of blankets that weren't mine. The white space was gone, replaced with shades of greys and various shadows. I tried to see where I was but really, my mind was elsewhere. It was still in that room, with him, trying to get him to tell me the whole truth.

Because it was more than a dream.

He was more than just data.

But how? Why?

"What are you?" I whispered but didn't expect him to respond.

Deep down, I knew I'd have to find my own answers.

Considering that I'd opened my eyes and took in breaths meant the group of men hadn't killed me, though I wondered if they'd tried. My head ached, but not as much as I thought it would. Touching my temple only proved that the man who kicked me didn't do it hard enough to cause damage, just knock me out. Still, it was a big boot. And it smelled too.

I looked down, peeling the blankets back from my body. My clothes were gone, but I wasn't naked; the clothes I'd worn when I left the house were replaced with standard Province attire. A black tee hung loose around my chest and grey pants clung to my thighs. Wiggling my toes, I looked at the black tip of my new white socks.

Not only did they not kill me, they dressed me. But that didn't mean I'd want to stay and chat over tea. I needed to get out and get back home, where it was safe... or, safer.

"Move, Clara," I muttered to myself as I moved my legs over the side of the thick cot I laid upon. The floor was cold under my feet. Looking around the four walls, I eyed a single window, three blank LED screens, and a door straight to my right. There couldn't have been more than ten feet between it and me. And I could reach it in less than five seconds.

I sucked in a breath and braced myself for the rush.

"Don't." Roger's voice sounded in my ear, freezing me cold. I wasn't sure whether to be afraid or relieved. "I'd rather you sit still. There's a small group of people just a few rooms down, both men and women. Twenty, perhaps?"

My fingers trembled as I gripped the side of the cot. "Okay?"

I heard him sigh. "They're... confused."

Confused? I knew he told me not to stand, but I couldn't help it. Curiosity pushed my feet towards the door. "How do you know they're confused?" I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

"Because they've failed."

Just five feet from the door, I stopped. "Failed to do...what?"

He didn't reply.

"Roger?" Something told me to lift my wrist where I could see. Roger's bright eyes looked at me from my watch's dim screen. When we locked eyes, he grimaced. "What did they fail to do?"

Nervously, Roger rubbed the back of his neck. "They're a rebel group named Peace."

Shit, they are rebels...

"For two weeks they've been breaking into apartments, taking Hosts. They've brought each of them here."

"To..." I waved my hand by my face and waited for him to continue.

"Test." He cleared his throat. "Test them. Try and break the hold a VF has on a brain."

Immediately, I thought of Xerses and smiled. "That's great," I said, covering my mouth.

Roger didn't share my enthusiasm. Instead of smiling like I did, he rolled his head back once and closed his eyes. "Not quite, Clara. I said they failed."

"So?" I started towards the door again. "If they have the Hosts here, they could try again. They could keep doing it until they could figure out."

"Clara—"

My wrist dropped and I lost sight of his face because I grabbed the doorknob with that hand.

"—Clara, the Hosts died."

I stopped breathing. My eyes went wide.

"I don't know how many, but none of them survived. All of their experiment data is tracked on paper logs; makes them untraceable. But, since we've been here, there have been two that have."

My hands returned to my sides, shaking like leaves on a tree. "H-how do you know that?"

"Cameras." Roger clicked his tongue. "I can see everything they're doing. Just now, that group, they're out there. Deciding what to do with you... number three."

"But..." I stepped away from the door so fast I stumbled. "But they can't experiment on me. I'm not under your control. You're... different."

Looking down at my wrist, I caught Roger's calm gaze as he observed me. I knew my fear was etched all over my face. Here I was, trapped in a room that wasn't mine, being discussed by a group of individuals the Government taught me to hate. Rebels were the reason why the Nations crumbled over fifty years ago. Maybe it wasn't the Province's fault that the VFs took over. Rebels had a way of infiltrating, hacking, and controlling the environments that we called home. If they were around again, their dystopian world was outside those windows.

I wouldn't put the blame past them.

"Because we're different. That's why they're confused, Clara."

I blinked, taken aback. "They know? Did they...?"

They let me live.

"Try?" He shrugged and nodded. "Oh, they tried, all right. Strapped you down, connected you to that bogus machine, and attempted to pull me out of you. The issue? Just because they detected me, doesn't mean I'm actually here—" He tapped the side of his head. "—or there—" He pointed at me.

Inhaling sharply, I watched Roger's lip twitch up into a small smile. If he wasn't there or here, then... where was he? What wasn't he telling me? My dreams were real, weren't they? I just couldn't help but imagine Roger being a human. A hacker? Maybe. The idea that he sat in a white room somewhere, monitoring my every move, made more sense than some active AI. Because no machine could do what he could.

"We are just as much detached from one another as the normal human is to their own brain," he chuckled, his smile widening. "One of the rebels said I had to have been jailbroken. Busted. And you..." He winked at me, that blue light intensifying in his eyes. "You're the whiz kid that did it."

Oh no. The rebels got it wrong.

I shook my head as I stepped back towards the cot, keeping my eyes on my watch's screen. "I'm not a whiz kid," I whispered. "I can't even set the time on my digital streamer. But you..."

You're the whiz kid. You're the prodigy. You're more than just data.

"I know you're no genius, Clara, but honestly that idea is why they haven't killed you." My blood went cold as his expression turned serious. "At this point, until I can learn more, let's stick with it."

I leaned so far into my watch my nose touched the screen and his image fizzled. "Roger, I can't! I can't pretend. I can't lie, I—"

That full breath of air I'd taken in caught in my chest as the doorknob to the room turned. Shifting my eyes towards the door, I watched it closely, then listened to the sound of creaking wood that came right after it opened. Bright light flooded the shadows, pushing them towards the windows; a foot broke the white that met gray.

"Just do it," Roger hissed, but I didn't listen to him.

My eyes were glued to the man that entered the room. "Hello," he said.

He wasn't as tall as the man that had kicked me; in fact, he was a lot shorter. Dressed in grey from top to bottom, I looked at the age on his face. Wrinkles were accentuated around his eyes and mouth as he smiled, beard stubble crinkled on the folds of taut, caramel skin. With his hands clasped behind his back and his chin straight and forward, he stood with importance—and peace. I couldn't figure out why, but when he stepped in and came closer, my fear had begun to slip away.

"How's your head?" There wasn't a hint of abnormal blue in his dark eyes. "I'll have to apologize for Matthews. He... can act out of line at times."

I stood straight and dropped my hands at my sides. "Matthews?"

"My second in command." He looked behind him, into another room I couldn't see. "If I'm not around, he takes actions into his own hands. Sometimes... he doesn't make the best decisions."

"And yet he's your second in command?"

"He is," he nodded and showed me his hands. No weapons. "Now, I know you've just woken up, but I'd like to ask you some questions if that's all right. I think you may have valuable information that'll serve us well."

Information? Lifting my chin, I looked into his eyes. "Questions?"

Again, he nodded, his smile softening as he did. "Yes. I have some for you and your assistant."

My mouth had gone dry and I repeated what he'd said in my head three times over. "For me... and Roger?"

In my ear, Roger whispered my name.

"Ah, is that his name? Roger?" Turning around, the man motioned me to follow him. "And your name is Clara, isn't it?"

When I nodded, he stood by the door and waited. "Lovely," he said. "You may call me Douglas. I am the leader of the Peace Resistance. We'll take good care of you here."