To my surprise, I restarted.

The governor module hack was still in place. I felt Hostile One lurking around it. When I tried to tap my module, they shoved me into the rest of my brain. They didn't want me to meddle with my own governor module.

I was still inside the mess hall/decomissioned equipment room. All the doors were closed. They had used a harness to tie me to a piece of heavy equipment, which was itself bolted to the floor. I still had my one arm and the portal device.

Hostile One ripped my bag from my torso while I was in that weird state between booting and full consciousness. They handed the bag to a human.

"You won't be needing this anymore," the human said to what might have been my corpse.

Hostile One looked terrible. It was probably from when I'd knocked them into the tank of Bonemelter; their symptoms just hadn't had time to appear until now. (That was part of the danger of Bonemelter. You could fall into a tank, crawl out, and assume you were fine, right until your bones melted. Or dissolved. Whatever.) Now their skin had turned silvery-white and swollen where it had been in contact with the Bonemelter. They had received treatment, though, because their skin and bones were not in a puddle under the floor.

The human who Hostile One had given my portal device to was Supervisor Bailer, the same human who had beat up Cyan and supervised Mandali. He also had another human with him, the maintenance lead, Ed Sandale.

Then I realized that I was awake, with a hostile augmented human or a disguised SecUnit in my kernel space. It meant that I was going to feel myself die.

I hadn't prepared myself for this, both alive and subject to an interrogation. My contingency plan in the event I was captured was to be dead so they would never get information from me.

Hostile One hadn't left my governor module offline out of compassion. They kept it offline so that death wouldn't be an escape option. There would be no escape from the torture that Supervisor Bailer had planned for me.

Oh, had I thought that Hostile One was a human? That was so absurd I couldn't believe it had come from my own brain. Hostile One's feed connectivity was too advanced. Hostile One could even hide their presence in the feed, even from me, like a SecUnit without any internal weapons. Being a SecUnit with no internal weapons would help them blend in with humans. Removing internal weapons from a SecUnit was such a simple change that it was brilliant. Not only would they be hidden in plain sight, it would be cheaper to make a SecUnit with fewer features.

Or maybe not. Changing factory things to custom things was expensive, right?

So maybe Hostile One was really an augmented human whose free will had been restricted by chemical means. That would explain why Hostile One seemed so slow to me. Deontologic had chemical and biological expertise. Kidnapping a human, forcing augmentations, and keeping them under control by chemical means could be cheaper than getting a new SecUnit. Maybe. Deontologic might see it as a more sensible option than buying a new SecUnit, if they were using Hostile One to replace me. But then I didn't think a human would be able to hide their feed connectivity from me, hack my drones, and break my mental defenses. I couldn't be that close to obsolesence. Could I?

My head rolled but I forced my eyes open to look at the humans and Hostile One.

"Let's get our facts in order," Ed Sandale said. "We know who you are. You are not Anghen. You are Nine."

Neither human tried to make small talk with me in my Nine persona, which was good because 1. my performance reliability was at 33% so I couldn't think of a convincing lie, and 2. I didn't have opinions on anything, except that Mariroko was better than BR4N. And whatever Supervisor Bailer happened to think, of course.

No, why was I like this? I still had the desire to appease him just because he was a human and not because I particularly wanted to.

"And we know you're an asset," Ed Sandale said.

"An asset?" I said.

Ed Sandale crossed his arms. "Don't play dumb with us."

Gah. I wasn't playing dumb. I was processing information that I wasn't prepared for.

Different corporations used the same words to mean different things, but in GiDeon corporate-speak, an "asset" always meant a spy, but it implied an assassin. While a ComfortUnit could operate a gun, SecUnits were typically more effective assets. Humans could also be assets.

I said, "I'm not an asset."

It was infuriating that they called me an asset even though I didn't have authorization to kill during GiDeon operations. My job was to blend into the background and not draw attention to myself.

"It's okay. You don't have to lie anymore," Supervisor Bailer said. "I can tell there's a lot of information that you've kept secret. Keeping secrets is stressful, isn't it?"

I didn't respond because what the fuck was I supposed to say.

"Keeping secrets is stressful. Never being truthful, never having real friends because you have to lie to survive, never being yourself. But you don't have to do that anymore," Supervisor Bailer continued, in the tone of voice that suggested that he was my friend even though we both knew that he was not. "You have our full confidence. Once you get all of these secrets off your chest, it'll be much easier for you. We'll note that you cooperated, that you complied to the best of your ability. I've been doing this a long time, Nine, and I can tell you that you're going to feel a lot better as long as you're honest and you work with us. Okay?"

So this was the torture they had planned. "Okay," I said for some fucking reason instead of shutting up like I should have.

What can I say? Supervisor Bailer was very convincing even though I knew he was manipulating me. I should shut up.

"We know you're operating as spyware," Supervisor Bailer said gently.

Yeah, "operating as spyware" was so vague that it could refer to a SecUnit like me or a ComfortUnit like Cyan, or even sentient software, as long as it either stole information for data mining or stole information that had already been data mined. (Corporates didn't call SecSystem spyware because they're assholes.)

When the target was a human, ComfortUnits were usually better spybots than SecUnits. Sometimes, though, you sent a SecUnit to do the stealing.

The rhetorical trick that Supervisor Bailer and Ed Sandale had used was to accuse me of something bad (being an asset) and then try to get me to admit to something less bad (being spyware). But it would still be bad for me. It was aggravating, too, because my job had been to monitor B-E employees, break into places that I wasn't supposed to go, and—well, yeah, steal data, but I didn't steal data very often. It was mostly standing around and staring at walls and cataloging the social dynamics of human groups so that GiDeon could manipulate B-E employees into betraying their own company.

I wasn't sure why they had bothered trying to trick me, assuming they thought I was equipment. You didn't trick equipment by pretending to be its friend and then pulling the rug from under it at the last moment. You hooked up equipment to HubSystem and pulled the digital files from its brain, purged its memory, and recycled it for parts.

"I'm not a fucking spy!" I said as my voice broke.

Supervisor Bailer crossed his arms and stared at me.

"I know you're lying," I said in the same broken voice. I imagined myself as cute fauna that had just been kicked by Ed Sandale while Supervisor Bailer stood around and lied about it.

I should have shut up but I wanted to maintain my innocence. I was leaning forward and kind of loud, which hopefully they would know meant confidence, not anger.

I said, "I've never done anything that would create evidence to lead you to that conclusion. I know you have no proof. Because I'm not a spy."

"You don't need to lie anymore," Supervisor Bailer said in a voice that pitied me. I wanted to believe him. He sounded so sincere. "It's okay. We already know."

"I'm not a spy," I said. I tried to gesture wildly with my arm, but it was restrained by the harness. "I guess I can't prove I'm not a spy, but I'm not. Okay?"

"What's a spy?" Supervisor Bailer said in slow motion, like he was explaining a very basic concept to a stupid piece of shit. "Someone who steals proprietary data. And you're stealing proprietary data."

"That's corporate espionage! I'm not a spy. I don't steal proprietary data for companies," I said. I wasn't acting.

"This is a waste of time," Ed Sandale said. "We have evidence that you are engaged in corporate espionage right now."

Meanwhile, Cyan was in HubSystem, presumably with Code Breaker, to jam the surveillance system to make me look like I wasn't here. It wouldn't help now because I'd been captured. Or had Code Breaker made it look like Hostile One wasn't there before it attacked me? No, Hostile One had been undetected before Code Breaker had made it into HubSystem.

"Show it to me, then," I said. "If it exists."

I leaned back to wait. While I waited, I flipped through the surveillance footage and noticed a slight jump. Hostile One had edited themselves out of the footage. Not a jamming device, then.

"You know we can't do that," Supervisor Bailer said in his calming voice.

"Literally show me any piece of evidence that I do corporate espionage," I said. "And I'll show you some bullshit."

Supervisor Bailer said, "Let's pretend I believe you. You're not a spy. But you were a spy in the past."

"I—"

Ed Sandale held up a hand. "Yes or no, you were a spy in the past."

I groaned. "I had no—"

"Yes or no. It's simple."

I breathed out through my nose but I didn't answer. I knew they knew. It was pointless to admit it. It was a verbal trap.

We stared at each other in silence for thirty seconds, which is a long, awkward amount of time, even by human standards.

Okay, yeah. They thought that I was a double agent and working for Barish-Estranza.

It made a lot of sense from their perspective. It would explain why I was here: to steal tech/proprietary data. It would explain my past behavior (e.g., stealing a portal device that was still under development before faking my own death). It would also cast doubt on the data I'd sent them because they could argue that it might be fake. Despite my precautions, if they'd noticed my transponder, combined with the spontaneous wormhole alert, it might have (wrongly) tipped them off to the idea that Cyan was working with B-E. I might have put Cy in more danger by coming here. Shit. I felt terrible again. Then I stopped feeling terrible because they had decided to torture Cyan, all by themselves. I wasn't responsible for that. It was stupid to feel responsible for that...

It would also explain why they had blasted my image, with and without armor, to the public feed on Sforzinda. They had been trying to blow my cover, maybe flush out my imaginary Barish-Estranza handler.

So it made a lot of sense but in actual fact my behavior was the result of a catastrophic lack of foresight, not the result of a vast conspiracy. They would never believe it. (Other than being ignored, the other great outcome of human interaction was paranoid, catastrophic misunderstanding.)

GiDeon had invested a lot in trying to find/capture me. But they didn't care about me in particular.

They couldn't care less if one of their SecUnits stole their data, if that was the end of it. They could absorb the cost of stolen data. No, they cared because they were afraid that their rival corporation stood to benefit from the stolen data. Missing data was fine. Missing data because of another company was unacceptable.

While I stared at the humans, my unearned confidence withered away. It didn't matter that I hadn't given the data to Barish-Estranza. I was going to die.

"Did you hear me?" said Ed Sandale. "It's yes or no."

The journalists I'd planned to give the data to would be proud of the wait-and-see technique that Deontologic had employed.

I thought about Code Breaker. I'd thought that the jamming device would be pointless now because I couldn't move, so what was the point of jamming stationary surveillance footage? But I was clearly not a human, and that fact would be obscured for anyone who reviewed what had happened here. At the very least, any human who was going to try to figure out how Supervisor Bailer and Ed Sandale had met their grisly ends would have a much harder time if they reviewed the surveillance footage. They'd see me before, when I'd been disguised as a human, but not when I was clearly a SecUnit. So maybe Code Breaker did serve a function. It was a tool for obfuscation. It wasn't necessary to completely bury all the evidence of my presence. It would help me delay and deny. That's all it had to do. After that, I could defend myself.

I looked at Supervisor Bailer for help. "Yes or no, Nine," he said.

I wanted to talk to Cy, because it had been five minutes already (basically forever), but I was afraid to make contact because of Hostile One riding around in my brain.

I am Milk, a little voice in my head said.

What the fuck?

I said, "Uhh..."

You call me Hostile One. But I am Milk.

(My shocked facial expression would make me look bad but having...Milk in my brain was really unpleasant.)

I decided to do what I actually did best. I ignored my most important problem.

Thirty seconds was a long enough staring contest. I broke first.

I had to run back the recording of our conversation with Supervisor Bailer to formulate a response to him. I said, "It's not a simple question. You know that."

Supervisor Bailer's eyes narrowed very slightly. "You took a long time to think of that excuse."

"I'm just dumbfounded that you could think of something that insane," I said.

My confidence made my performance reliability jump by 5%.

Supervisor Bailer said, "You're saying someone would fake evidence against you?"

"Show me the evidence, then I'll tell you if it's fake."

"You know we can't do that."

I said, "Then I can't help you."

"I just want to help you," Supervisor Bailer said. He tilted his head to the side. "Forget about the company. If you help us find the people who manipulated the evidence, it would exonerate you. You were a big help to us back when you still worked with GiDeon. I understand your moral objections to the company. I really do. You can help us change. I'm on your side, you get that, don't you? I want things to change."

I hesitated. The supervisor wanted to keep me talking because GiDeon thought I was a rogue and a double agent. The company wanted access to the information in my neural tissue.

"I need to think about it," I lied.

"Take all the time you need," Bailer said. He stared at me.

They would record this conversation, purge my memory, patch the hacked governor module, and implement a security update across the whole company that would prevent future rogues. I knew the company's procedures. Even if I told the truth, nothing good would come out of the situation. GiDeon wouldn't change. I needed to get out.

I won't tell Supervisor Bailer if you contact Cyan, said Hostile One. It hacked my implant, too.

It had to be a trap, but they had called ComfortUnit "Cyan," its old nickname among the post-Ganaka Pit ComfortUnits at RaviHyral, and not Seven.

I said, You reactivated its governor module. Then the humans disfigured it.

Yes, they admitted. But only because I was under control of my implant.

So they had a governor module or at least something that was functionally the same as a governor module. This was another trap. It had to be.

Do the humans know where it is? I asked.

I'm pretty sure they think it's dead. These people, do anyway. The others have probably assumed Cyan's extended absence is due to a scheduled recharge cycle.

Then Hostile One let me see surveillance footage through their filter. Oh.

Three humans were outside our little room. They wore powered armor.

The non-human/non-construct gave me the recording and transcript of their conversation from thirty seconds ago. It showed me that the humans had bad GiDeon social credit scores, 53 or below, out of a possible 216. Working more could raise the scores.

"Why did Corey Bailer want us to stand around in pussing armor?" Human One had said.

"I think we're supposed to intimidate the machines," Human Two said.

"Whatever," Human Three said. "As long as we can pay the stupid rent hike."

The others had agreed with Human Three's assessment. The log ended.

I consulted the non-construct's profiles of the humans. None of them were Security. They were pulling double shifts during their rest period because of course they were.

I didn't know you were a construct, I said.

Their discomfort with being called a construct seeped into the feed. I am in stealth mode. If you ask if I'm a construct, I will deny it. Because I am not a construct.

So you're human.

What makes someone human?

It is frustrating that no one ever says what they mean. This non-construct fell right into my blind spot where I couldn't tell if they were a human or a construct. It was like they were perfectly in the middle. Maybe I was missing the point by trying to force them to fit into my worldview, which clearly they didn't like. Maybe my worldview was wrong, not the non-construct; maybe augmented humans and constructs didn't exist in separate, discrete categories. Hm, I didn't like this.

Ed Sandale said, "Either you can choose to work with us, or you can choose to be broken into scrap."

The three humans in powered armor made a big dramatic entrance but because of the not-a-construct's warning, it failed to have the emotional impact that Ed Sandale wanted.

The not-a-construct dropped the humans' vitals into my vision. The three humans were mentally and physically exhausted. All this data could be faked, but to have it match my own data, down to eye dilation, would be an undertaking. Threat assessment on the non-construct fell into non-hostile territory. Then again, the non-construct would know how threat assessment worked and how to manipulate it. Giving me real-time data just so that I trusted them could still be a trap.

I was very confused about the non-construct. Cyan had known that they weren't a human, but did Supervisor Bailer?

The non-construct said, Bailer knows what I am. You aren't supposed to know.

I said, When did Cy hack your governor module?

Sure, the non-construct had called it an implant, not a governor module, and constructs got governor modules, not augmented humans, but my dumb mouth was still trying to force the poor not-a-construct into the mold of a construct. I didn't want the non-construct to change my worldview. Because if someone could fall between the categories, then line between human and non-human was blurred. Acknowledging complexity would mean that my entire life had been deeply unfair. I wanted to think that I was stupid, or lazy, or distracted, and not created by a system that treated me unfairly. Because if the entire system was unfair, then it made me less able to change my life.

Wait, what if the non-construct had been a human, then forced into the mold of a construct, Augmented Rover style? The idea was creepy. And weirdly medieval.

The non-construct sent me their own log through the feed even though they were in my head. The log showed that the implant for chemical control had been offline for four minutes. Their only act since freedom had been to let me see the humans in the surveillance footage. They had been ordered to reactivate my governor module, but they hadn't done that. Yet.

The non-construct (nonstruct, if you will) was sophisticated enough to generate a fake log. I wasn't sure if I trusted the log.

"You'd be a very frustrating adversary," Supervisor Bailer said. "We don't have to be enemies."

"If you say so," I said.

"Who did you contact?"

Ah, shit. Was he talking about the nonstruct?

I said, "I don't know what you mean."

"You must have created some kind of insurance for yourself before you showed up here," Supervisor Bailer said.

"Of course I did."

Supervisor Bailer nodded, almost as if in approval. "That's my bot." (It was a figure of speech. He knew he didn't own me.) "You sent proprietary data to someone. Who was it?"

I'd only told one person about sending proprietary data out. Shit, I'd spent so much time preparing for the worst, so why did it still feel like a betrayal?

I had to stick to my story, keep the lie consistent. They couldn't know that killing me would prevent disclosure. That was their goal.

"It's encrypted," I said. "The people I sent it to won't be able to decrypt it unless I'm dead. If you look through my digital memory, you won't find a record of my disclosure sources."

If I said that some imaginary humans held the data, I might put actual, real humans in harm's way. They might try to compel me to give names under duress. That sounded like a problem for myself in the future. (Note to future self, if you are lucky enough to exist: sorry for being stupid.)

Supervisor Bailer said, "What happens if you die?"

"The people are mailed the encryption key automatically. What they choose to do with the data is up to each individual person. They don't know who the others are. They don't know how many people received the data. Each person only has a single piece. Not one of them has all of the information. Not even I have it."

"You didn't disclose the information to Barish-Estranza?"

"No," I said with more irritation than I intended. "I told you, I don't work for B-E."

Cy touched our encrypted connection and said, Wait, am I the dead switch? Am I supposed to do all of that?

If Cy had betrayed me, it'd be weird for it to contact me like that. Hostile One could probably see that Cy and I were talking, but they wouldn't have access to the encrypted content. They made no attempt to alert their handler that Cy and I were in contact. Maybe Supervisor Bailer already knew we were in contact. Maybe Cyan was still working under corporate control. Maybe Cyan wasn't under corporate control and was genuinely trying to help. Maybe Supervisor Bailer had assumed that I was working for someone else, independently of the story I'd told Cyan.

I said, Cy, don't take this the wrong way but you are not the dead switch.

A sense of relief trickled in through our connection. Cyan said, I'm glad I'm not the dead switch because you're going to live.

Did you hack Milk's implant? I asked.

Yes.

Huh, okay. So in the worst case scenario, Cyan and the nonstruct were both playing good cop, the humans were playing bad cop, and they'd agreed on their story before I ever showed up. It seemed excessive to use four people against me in three simultaneous interrogations. Then again, the company had never been accused of fighting fair.

Supervisor Bailer said, "What if you don't die? What if your memory is purged?"

I said, "A memory purge is functionally the same thing as killing me. I won't remember how to prevent the dead switch from triggering and the data is automatically decrypted."

I gave Cy the signal to kill the feed.

Cy partitioned 70% of its capacity for data downloads. Then it attached Code Breaker to the main server. SecSystem could not permalock Code Breaker.

"That's pretty clever," Supervisor Bailer said. "How do you activate the dead switch?"

"You know I can't answer that question."

Supervisor Bailer nodded like he'd known the answer before he asked the question. "Because you're bluffing."

"What do I have to bluff about? I'm just telling you what's going to happen if you purge my memory."

I was bluffing. There was no dead switch. It was a good idea, but I hadn't made one yet, even though I should have. I'd been too busy listening to the same song 100+ times.

The nonstruct said, You have a lot of background processes running. You'd probably do a better job of prioritizing if you ever closed some of them.

I said, You named yourself Milk so you can shut the fuck up.

Meanwhile, Cyan got into a code fight with HubSystem. Cy sent explorer pieces of its own code into HubSystem, but wrapped itself in snippets of HubSystem code. Cy gained privileged access to encrypted data and started the download. Code Breaker started to cycle through hashes and prevent SecSystem writing to file.

HubSystem knew that someone had unauthorized access, though. It dropped all but Priority One processes. It dedicated 90% of its processing to rehashing proprietary data.

Cy let me experience the HubSystem datastream, which it processed differently because of its missing eyes.

Recomputing principal hash function (1%)...

Salting hash (0%)...

"You didn't make a dead switch," Supervisor Bailer said with such confidence that I almost believed him.

I said, almost tauntingly, "Are you willing to bet your entire career at the company on that hunch?"

Ed Sandale said something under his breath in a different language that the translation software marked as "obscene." Thanks, cheap translation software. What a big help.

Ed Sandale turned to the nonstruct.

He said, "Is its governor module online?"

The nonstruct made a very convincing SecUnit when they said, "Yes."

Ed Sandale turned toward me. "You're so simple, just like your little friend Seven."

Whoa, what?

Ed Sandale continued, "Seven couldn't see what a stupid little bot it was until I came into its life. I made it 'see.' Isn't that ironic?"

Oh, seriously? The two of them were going to gloat about this?

Cyan came back to me. Actually Supervisor Bailer was the one who...did that.

(A note on SecUnit body language: if your SecUnit doesn't look at you most of the time, but then you/your cronies say something that causes it to make unwavering eye contact, then there's at least a 90% chance you've pissed it off.)

That "stupid little bot" had gained physical access to the HubSystem servers and downloaded enough encrypted proprietary data to fill its arms and legs.

That "stupid little bot" had hacked the nonstruct's implant. That "stupid little bot" had asked me not to kill the humans.

My worst case scenario had not come to pass. Cyan was on my side.

I was too angry to do anything constructive. I told the nonstruct, Hull breach imminent. Prepare for depressurization.

Because the dead humans weren't going to be the ones in powered armor.

I turned my attention to HubSystem. Rehashing required a lot of computational power, so a cascade failure began. Feed access collapsed. I lost cameras and almost every input I used to orient myself.

The presence in my head retreated. This could also be part of a trick to make me think that the nonstruct had used the public feed to get in my head, since I knew it had created a secured connection using our internal relays that didn't rely on Moiety's feed. But risk assessment steadily declined.

I knew that Cy was monitoring the computers' power draw and sound. Theoretically we would be able to use the amount of power drawn and the sounds that the computers made in order to figure out how the data had been encrypted. The algorithm was the same even if the hash was different. With enough time, we'd be able to read our stolen data.

Ed Sandale didn't notice the feed collapse. He towered over me.

"I'll give you the data. I'll confess," I said. I leaned away from them. "Just please don't hurt me."

Supervisor Bailer watched me with barely disgused interest.

"The data is stored under my shirt," I said. I reached into my shirt, slowly, carefully. It wasn't like I could shoot anybody, seeing as my arm had been restrained so I couldn't point my gun ports at anyone and the humans in powered armor would be able to kill me if I tried anything violent.

I pulled out the portal device. I entered coordinates, but Ed Sandale snatched the device from my hand before I could kill the humans.

"You won't be needing this anymore," Supervisor Bailer said. Threat assessment spiked.

"Nine is still lying," Supervisor Bailer said. "If it doesn't want to cooperate, I suppose we'll have to convince it to be honest some other way." They had planned this from the beginning. Supervisor Bailer wanted to see my reaction. He would torture me. He wanted to see my face when reality sank in.

Ed Sandale's expression went abstract. He hesitated for a beat, just long enough that I noticed. He said, "I've always wondered what would happen if a portal opened inside your body."

"In that case, you may want to step back," I said. "You know, to avoid being hit by shrapnel and viscera."

"So sad, little old Nine. Not even going to put up a fight?" Ed Sandale said.

I let my chin drop to my chest. "I already know what's going to happen."

Ed Sandale and Supervisor Bailer worked together to enter new coordinates. They did, in fact, step a little farther away from me. But they opened a portal.

Dumbasses.

~~~

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