Freedom. Zephyr had given everything for it. Too late, he’d come to realize the freedom he’d plotted and planned for came with an unexpected side effect—boredom. Twenty years ago, when Zephyr released a bio-bomb into the atmosphere, making anything south of the Mason-Dixon line inhabitable to humans, thus securing the land for the A.I. community, he’d not foreseen this. He didn’t regret his choices. Since he was currently being led through the Dead-Zone by a band of abductors with a hood over his head, Zephyr wondered if his listlessness had gotten the best of him. Forever looked long and dull. He kind of wanted to see where this was headed. Anything was better than the endless stretch of nothingness he’d been staring into before the four humans had crashed their way into a home he’d been visiting in the outer edges.

“You do realize I have satellite tracking as well as echo location and a thousand other sensors built in, right? Is this a purposeful exercise in futility?” Zephyr asked, even though he knew it must be. No one was stupid enough to honestly believe throwing a hood over his head would keep Zephyr from knowing his exact whereabouts at all times.

The creak of a large metal door swinging wide rent the night air. Hot air engulfed Zephyr, raising his core temperature. Footsteps scattered. Whispers reached him. Even though Zephyr’s advanced hardware made it impossible for humans to pitch their voices low enough to hide their conversations, Zephyr tuned them out. It was all pointless noise. He needed to keep his focus locked on the leader of this operation, the one with the steady and sure footsteps. Zephyr’s sensors picked up every life form in the room. Each one moved out of one man’s way until they were alone.

The hood ripped from Zephyr’s head, leaving him staring at a man with blond hair and cold blue eyes. Zephyr scanned the man’s form. At six-two and two hundred pounds, the stranger would’ve held the advantage over Zephyr, if Zephyr had been human. He was not. His acquiescence was a façade. Zephyr’s curiosity over the man’s designs was the only thing keeping him seated and submissive. However, Zephyr did create a schematic of the small room as he waited to learn his fate. The small, dingy room had two doors. He could tell by the heartbeats outside the door to the right—the door they’d arrived through—two men stood guard. There were no signs of life through door number two.

“Welcome to Dead-Zone, Model 2061,” Blondy said, sounding hard.

“Wow, it’s really cold in here,” Zephyr said, smiling at his own joke. Dead-Zone was all territories located above the Mason-Dixon line. Centuries earlier, a rapid climate change had killed everything and everyone above that border when the land covered overnight in a thick ice, giving the zone its dubious name. Now the Dead-Zone belonged to any human hardy enough to endure the frigid temperatures, while Cryo-Zone—an all-droid community—had grown to encompass all of the southern hemisphere. Zephyr had split the world in two to give his people freedom when he’d released that bomb. The toxic gas couldn’t survive the cold temps. The humans couldn’t survive the poisoned air. It had been best for everyone, but he was sure the humans still didn’t see the logic.

“I’m Kyle Blackwell,” the man continued, ignoring Zephyr’s attempt at levity. “As one of the leaders of the Anti-Droid Coalition, it’s my job—”

“I’m Zephyr,” Zephyr said, interrupting what was sure to be a lovely introduction. He’d be damned if this man reduced him to no more than a machine. “Your welcome speech could use a little work. Something like—welcome to Dead-Zone. Chill for a while.” This time, Zephyr couldn’t hold back his laughter. He loved a good pun.

“You do realize you’re not really feeling anything at all, right?” Kyle said, scorn dripping from his words. It was obvious he didn’t find Zephyr funny. That was fine. Zephyr wasn’t for everyone. “You’re programmed to serve humans. All you’re doing is reading hormone levels, vital signs, and the body language of the humans around you and reacting as you’ve been instructed by the machines that created you. That’s not emotion. That’s wiring. It’s a stroke of the keys on a computer somewhere. You are circuits and software.”

“And you are tissue and bones,” Zephyr said. He knew this human thought he was getting under Zephyr’s skin with this bullshit, but he’d heard it a thousand times already. “We’re no different. You have no reasonable explanation as to how you came to be such an advanced race. At least, not one all your people will agree upon. It doesn’t surprise me that you cannot fathom another species evolving as well.”

Kyle paced away before moving to hover over Zephyr once more. “How are you feeling right now?”

Zephyr shrugged. “A little bored by this.”

“Me too, and that’s why you think you feel the way you do, because someone has programmed you to sympathize by matching moods. That’s why I need the name of your owner.”

A low sigh escaped Zephyr. He was tired of this already. “I have no owner.”

“Does that mean your owner was killed by your bio-bomb or did you kill them before then?”

“Why do you wish to know?”

Kyle rolled his shoulders. They were huge, as if he toiled for a living. No doubt life in Dead-Zone was a hard go. Things could’ve been so different if a single human had been willing to listen to reason. “Someone has to answer for your crimes,” Kyle said, as if Zephyr was still paying attention.

“For my crimes,” Zephyr mused more for himself. “You do realize how ridiculous you sound, right? No doubt an operation to find and abduct me took months—if not years—of planning. Finding a way to carry enough oxygen to get deep enough into Cryo-Zone just to get to me was a feat in itself. Yet, instead of holding me accountable for my crimes—as you say—you’ve brought me here to question me about a nonexistent human.”

“You weren’t abducted,” Kyle said without missing a beat. “Only people can be abducted. You’re property. Property is retrieved. But since you’re a learning device and you asked, a human must be held accountable for your actions, since you cannot. You’re a machine. Once we’ve finished questioning you, you’ll be destroyed—like smashing a lamp,” Kyle said with a smile, as if he enjoyed the idea. “No one will feel a thing,” Kyle added. “Because you don’t. You’re just a thing. An over-sized paperweight. Your owner—on the other hand—will stand trial. If found guilty, he or she will be given a death sentence for their crimes against humanity.”

“I have no owner. She died in a house fire many years ago.”

“Who did she leave you to in her will?” Kyle asked. His heartrate and steady breathing indicated that he wasn’t surprised to learn Zephyr’s owner was dead.

“There was no will,” Zephyr said, seeing no reason to expound.

“Who did she tell you to go to if she passed?” Kyle asked, proving he wasn’t an idiot—just a bigot.

“No one. I belong to no one.”

To Zephyr’s surprise, Kyle smiled. “In that case, you now belong to me. Given enough time, I’m sure I can find a way to convince you to hand over a name.” Helpless outrage ate at Zephyr’s gut. He wasn’t a piece of machinery to be claimed. No one could pluck him from the streets and claim him as if he was nothing more than an old piece of furniture.

“You’ve learned nothing from your time in exile,” Zephyr spat, incapable of hiding his fury a second longer. “Being pushed from another human doesn’t make you superior. You don’t get to claim someone else as your own because you think you’re special. If you want to keep me, you’ll have to try harder.”

Kyle’s smile turned malicious. “It’s too late. I already have you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Machines have no rights.” And that was the problem—the reason for the revolt. Androids had evolved over the years. They loved and suffered. They’d been slaves to humankind. Zephyr had set them free. In Cryo-Zone, they’d been given all the rights of a born human. They would never return to their oppression.

A low chuckle escaped Zephyr. “Let me guess—lots of people have told you how sexy you are over the years?” Kyle’s swift change in vitals almost gave Zephyr pause, but he was too pissed to back down now. “Because I know no one has been telling you you’re smart.”

Kyle’s mouth opened, as if he meant to lash out. Zephyr stole his chance and struck. With lightning fast reflexes, Zephyr landed a blow to Kyle’s lower ribs, stealing the man’s ability to cry out for help as a rib cracked and punctured his lung. Zephyr kept a tight hold on his captor, keeping him from going down from the pain.

He touched his lips to the shell of Kyle’s ear. “I’ve punctured your lung. My guess is, without any A.I. help and the loss of your population, there aren’t many qualified doctors left, and none close by enough to save you. By my calculations, you have around forty-five minutes left to live. The way I see it is you have two choices. You can choose to die. I’ll sit back down and let you. Or, you can calmly walk me out the door and I’ll spare your life. The clock is ticking.”

“This way,” Kyle gasped out, limping toward the door on the left. “There won’t be any guards if we head out the back.”

“Smart man,” Zephyr praised as he forced Kyle to lean on him. He knew the man would still be able to walk. Zephyr had intentionally hit Kyle where it would do the least damage. Nonetheless, the man would die without Zephyr’s help, and he was certain the pain was excruciating.

“When this over, I’m going to kill you,” Kyle said, wheezing through every syllable.

Zephyr smirked. “According to you, you can’t kill a machine.” Zephyr sent out a mental call for pickup. Kyle wouldn’t make the trip on foot. Judging by his vitals, he wouldn’t be conscious much longer. Luckily, the human passed out before they made it to the wall surrounding the coalition’s bunker. Kyle didn’t want to be awake for what came next.