“He’s down,” Azi says, tapping against his temple. “He’s not responding.”
“Max,” Anderson says sharply, but Max is already rushing out the door, Azi and Tatiana on his heels.
“Go collect your son,” Ibrahim barks at Anderson.
“Why don’t you go collect your daughter?” Anderson shoots back.
Ibrahim’s eyes narrow. “I’m taking the girl,” he says quietly. “I’m finishing this job, and I’ll do it alone if I have to.”
Anderson glances from me to Ibrahim. “You’re making a mistake,” he says. “She’s finally become our asset. Don’t let your pride keep you from seeing the answer in front of us. Juliette should be the one tracking down the kids right now. The fact that they won’t be anticipating her as an assailant makes them easier targets. It’s the most obvious solution.”
“You are out of your mind,” Ibrahim shouts, “if you think I’m foolish enough to take such a risk. I will not just hand her over to her friends like some common idiot.”
Friends?
I have friends?
“Hey, princess,” someone whispers in my ear.
KENJI
Warner just about slaps me upside the head.
He yanks me back, grabbing me roughly by the shoulder, and drags us both across the overly bright, extremely creepy laboratory.
Once we’re far enough away from Anderson, Ibrahim, and Robot J, I expect Warner to say something—anything—
He doesn’t.
The two of us watch the distant conversation grow more heated by the moment, but we can’t really hear what they’re saying from here. Though I think even if we could hear what they were saying, Warner wouldn’t be paying attention. The fight seems to have left his body. I can’t even see him right now, but I can feel it. Something about his movements, his quiet sighs.
His mind is on Juliette.
Juliette, who looks the same. Better, in fact. She looks healthy, her eyes bright, her skin glowing. Her hair is down—long, heavy, dark—the way it was the first time I ever saw her.
But she’s not the same. Even I can see that.
And it’s devastating.
I guess this is somehow better than if she’d replaced Emmaline altogether, but this weird, robotic, super-soldier version of J is also deeply concerning.
I think.
I keep waiting for Warner to finally break the silence, to give me some indication of his feelings and/or theories on the matter—and maybe, while he’s at it, offer me his professional opinion on what the hell we should be doing next—but the seconds continue to pass in perfect silence.
Finally, I give up.
“All right, get it out,” I whisper. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Warner lets out a long breath. “This doesn’t make sense.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I get that. Nothing makes sense in situations like these. I always feel like it’s unfair, you know, like the worl—”
“I’m not being philosophical,” Warner says, cutting me off. “I mean it literally doesn’t make sense. Nouria and Sam said that Operation Synthesis would turn Ella into a super soldier—and that once the program went into effect, the result would be irreversible.
“But this is not Operation Synthesis,” he says. “Operation Synthesis is literally about synthesizing Ella’s and Emmaline’s powers, and right now, there’s no—”
“Synthesis,” I say. “I get it.”
“This doesn’t feel right. They did things out of order.”
“Maybe they freaked out after Evie’s attempt to wipe J’s mind didn’t work. Maybe they needed to find a way to fix that fail, and quick. I mean, it’s much easier to keep her around if she’s docile, right? Loyal to their interests. It’s much easier than keeping her in a holding cell, anyway. Babysitting her constantly. Monitoring her every movement. Always worried she’s going to magic the toilet paper into a shiv and break out.
“Honestly”—I shrug—“it feels to me like they’re just getting lazy. I think they’re sick and tired of J always breaking out and fighting back. This is literally the path of least resistance.”
“Yes,” Warner says slowly. “Exactly.”
“Wait— Exactly what?”
“Whatever they did to her—prematurely initiating this phase—was done hastily. It was a patch job.”
A lightbulb flickers to life in my head. “Which means their work was sloppy.”