But we didn’t ask who would make this deal with the investor. How we’d ensure the ideas of Innovations Academy didn’t repurpose themselves in some other way once we got it shut down.

We thought we’d find the information, and then, somehow … we’d just be free. Free to live our lives. It was naive.

“He told me that society would destroy us if they knew we existed,” I say in a quiet voice. Sydney turns to stare out at the street. “He … he compared us to toasters.”

There’s no joke there. The idea that we’re just objects used and forgotten is a painful one. An ache deepens in my chest, and my eyes start to water.

“What are we, Sydney?” I whisper. “How can we be just like them and yet still so different?”

She turns to me and reaches to take my hand. She doesn’t have the answer.

“Where do we fit?” I ask. “We’re alone.”

“No,” she says adamantly. “We have each other.”

“But what are we?” I repeat.

She leans in to put her forehead against mine, our eyes close. “We get to be whatever we want,” she whispers, her breath sweet over my lips. “We’re going to decide, and we’re not going to let society or men or a corporation determine our value anymore.”

It’s a beautiful thought. I hug Sydney, and we cling together, wishing it could be that simple. Before we can convince society of our worth, we’re going to have to determine it for ourselves. We’ve been so set on shutting down the corporation, we lost sight of our bigger issue. One Leandra barely discussed.

We’re not girls. We’re not even human. But we can love and hate and cry and laugh. Why does having a metal brain make us that much different, when the outcome is the same?

Sydney pulls out of the hug, reaching over to wipe a tear off my cheek. I smile, thanking her, and run my fingers under my eyes to clear the rest.

“Now,” Sydney says. “I’m not saying we work with Winston. The idea of a President Weeks doesn’t interest me. But … if he has resources, shouldn’t we use him?”

Again, maybe in theory I don’t disagree. But there’s another side of me that doesn’t need Winston Weeks’s influence. Why can’t we be the ones to change things?

And just as I think that, a small flicker of pain registers in my temple. I close my eyes, rubbing the spot with my finger.

“You okay?” Sydney asks.

“Head still hurts.”

“Well … they’re waiting for you upstairs,” Sydney says. She leaves any judgment out of her voice. It’s up to me whether I still want to meet with Raven. “Marcella ran to the store,” Sydney adds. “But she should be back soon.”

“And Raven’s here?” I ask, not opening my eyes.

“Yep. She’s working with Annalise now.”

There’s a sudden sinking in my gut. “Working with?” I ask. “What do you mean?”

“She’s been in a lot of pain, Mena,” Sydney says. “She wanted Raven to look into it.”

I understand. Annalise is reluctant to tell us when she’s hurting, but I see her flinch sometimes, rub her eye. I hear her cry in the shower, where she thinks we can’t hear her.

“And … ,” Sydney says, sounding worried, “she said she’s been having flashes. Memories.”

I quickly get up from the stair, and Sydney does the same.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Why didn’t she tell me about her flashes?” I ask. Sydney bites her lip, looking guilty.

“She didn’t want to worry you.”

“Worry me?” I say. “We—”

“And you’ve been preoccupied,” Sydney admits. “She thought it would be better not to add to your stress.”

Sydney and I stare at each other, but she knows I can’t argue the point. Between my crying spells and getting my brain hacked by a mystery woman, I’m not exactly in a good place.

“Come on,” Sydney says, and pulls open the door for me to walk up to the apartment.

When I get inside, I’m alarmed by the scene. I immediately see Raven sitting with her computer in her lap. There’s some of kind of device connected to it, and from there, several wires snake out toward the couch.

And as my eyes follow the lines, I take in a sharp breath when I see that they’re connected to Annalise. She’s lying there with wires inserted into the corner of her left eye through a clear tube. The same way we would get our impulse control therapies from Anton at the academy. The sight is … horrific. Traumatizing in its familiarity.

“What are you doing?” I demand, my voice cracking with fear.

Annalise is sedated and doesn’t answer. There’s a bandage wrapped around her elbow beneath her rolled-up sleeve. From behind the couch, Brynn looks at me and I can see that she’s worried, her hands clutched in front of her.

“She’s been like this for twenty minutes,” Brynn says nervously.

“Why didn’t you come get me outside?” Sydney responds, rushing past me to fall to her knees next to Annalise, grabbing her hand to hold it. “Is she okay?” Sydney asks Raven.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop,” I tell Raven, who hasn’t even acknowledged our arrival. She’s concentrating completely on whatever’s on her computer screen. But the minute I start toward her, she dramatically hits a button and looks up and smiles.

“Done,” she announces. She sets the computer aside and traces the wires with her fingers until she’s at Annalise’s eye. She pulls them from the clear tube and then delicately extracts the instrument. She grabs a cloth and wipes where tears have leaked from Annalise’s eye.

I pause over her shoulder, my heart pounding. “Why isn’t she awake?” I ask.

“Give it a second,” Raven says, studying Annalise’s face before reaching out to tenderly brush back her hair. The care in her movement catches me off guard. Sydney glances back over her shoulder at me.

And then, suddenly, Annalise’s eyelids flutter. She looks around at each of us, slow and deliberate.

“Well, this is familiar,” she says calmly. Sydney laughs her relief and sits back on her heels, dropping Annalise’s hand.

Annalise groans, putting her palm to her head. Brynn rushes to her, giving Raven a wary look. It’s completely out of character for Brynn, and I wonder if she objected to this procedure and was ignored. And that is certainly not okay.

I move to block Raven out with my shoulder and focus on Annalise, helping her sit up.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“A little light-headed,” she responds. When she meets my eyes, she smiles. “Don’t be mad. It was for research.”

“I’m still mad,” I say, but her smile has relieved my tension a bit. Once she’s settled against the cushions, I grab a chair from the kitchen and set it next to the couch so I can talk with her.

“What exactly were you doing?” I ask. “That was—”

“I’m going to interrupt,” Raven says, picking up her laptop again. We all turn to her. “That was fucking amazing!” she adds.

Raven clicks a button and then turns her laptop around so we can see the screen.