The Girl Who Dared to Stand (The Girl Who Dared #2)(16)

“Ninety-two days after the other version of me went live,” Scipio said sadly, and the lights in the room grew dimmer as a screen began to form in midair. I leaned closer to it, dazzled by the fact that it was floating just a few feet from our faces, and ran my hand through it, watching as the lights scattered in the wake of my movement, glittering purple and neon pink. The blackness that formed inside the glowing frame suddenly changed, showing a high-angle view of the office, starting somewhere in the vicinity of the bookshelf behind me and pointing toward the door.

The door, in fact, was opening, revealing a whipcord-thin man with bronze skin, a weathered face, and stark white, wispy hair on top of his head. Something shifted in the corner, and the profile of a face appeared as someone stepped onscreen: a black man in his late seventies, with white hair and a mustache. I immediately recognized him as Lionel, due to the monuments erected to him throughout the Tower, but I never thought I’d ever see him move or hear him talk.

“As I do live and breathe,” Lionel said in a tired voice. “I never thought you’d set foot in here, Ezekial.”

“Did he just say Ezekial?” Grey whispered, and I shrugged, just as mystified, my eyes never leaving the scene. It was unreal that I was looking at one of the Founders—the very mind that had created Scipio and the ranking system, both of which had controlled Tower life for the past three hundred years or so. Had he known his accomplishment would last so long? Could he have predicted it would also turn out so… wrong?

Ezekial looked around the office. “Is it here?”

As if on cue, Scipio appeared in the image. “If you are referring to me, Mr. Pine, then yes, I am. It’s so good to meet you. The AI modeled after you really gave me a run for my money.”

“What’s he talking about?” Quess asked over the sound, and I filed the question away to ask Scipio later. For now, I was too busy staring at the man Lionel was speaking to, the man I should’ve recognized almost instantly. Ezekial Pine had been one of the first Founders, and would later become the first on the council as leader of the Knights—although at that time they were known as “Security.”

“Indeed.” Ezekial Pine’s voice was rife with disdain. “Can you shut it off, please? This is a conversation that requires… some privacy.”

Lionel stepped forward, and I realized there was something wrong with his leg, as if he had an old injury. He leaned heavily on a cane clutched in his right hand as he hobbled forward. “Of course. Scipio, run diagnostic protocol.”

“Yes, sir,” Scipio replied, immediately fading out.

I bit my lip; something wasn’t right here. Ezekial kept calling Scipio it instead of he or him. That told me he didn’t hold the AI in high regard. Couple that with his body language onscreen, and I could feel something dark beginning to unfurl in front of me. I instinctively stretched my hand out, searching for one of Grey’s, and he accepted it, lacing his fingers through mine. It helped, but not by much.

The two old men looked at each other for a moment. Then Lionel held out a hand, gesturing for Ezekial to sit down.

“Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?”

“You still have coffee?” Ezekial asked.

“What’s coffee?” Quess asked softly, looking over at me, and I shrugged, my eyes wide. I had no idea. “I’ve heard of coffee mugs, but…”

“Shush,” I whispered, waving my free hand at him. I didn’t want to miss a thing.

Besides, I had a pretty good guess that the term “coffee mugs” was some sort of holdover from before the End. I was guessing that we had run out of coffee—a beverage, I was assuming—but the word had lingered.

“I do—I kept some squirreled away. Do you think when everything settles down out there, our descendants are going to go out and rediscover coffee?”

“I don’t think about those things,” Ezekial said as Lionel disappeared off-screen. I looked over at the shelves where he would be standing, and saw an electric kettle, the varnished edges covered in dust, and several of the coffee mugs in question next to it, as well as a few jars. I made a mental note to investigate later, and turned back to the screen.

“I think about how to keep the people in this Tower alive now, not what happens after. That’s not why I’m here, anyway. You know that keeping this Scipio around is a violation of the council’s orders. Why is it still running?”

The council had ordered the first Scipio’s—Scipio 1.0’s—destruction? I tightened my grasp on Grey’s hand, suddenly frustrated. We had never been taught any of this. Had it all been stripped away from our history? But why? I felt stupid and ignorant, like I was stumbling around in the dark trying to fix something with no tools.

“Allow an old man his indulgences. I created the thing, after all.”

“It represents a threat, Lionel. If any of those Prometheus psychopaths ever find it, they could use it to subvert the Master Scipio program. All the other prototypes have been destroyed, and with the last one gone, we’ll finally be safe. You know this. We’ve talked about it at great length.”

“You think that they’re really gone?” Lionel asked amicably from off-screen, and Ezekial nodded. Lionel must have been watching him, because a moment later, he chuckled. “Ezekial, my friend, I have known you for a long time, and I really wish my imagination had rubbed off on you. Now, back to the matter at hand: I haven’t destroyed him because we need him. His continued existence is crucial in case the Master Scipio AI fails.” He reappeared, holding a mug in one hand with a silver canister perched on top of it. “Here,” he said, offering the mug to Ezekial. “Vietnamese style. You know… I sometimes wonder if it’s still there. I got to go there when I was young.”