“There you are, Atlas. I have been giving you privacy.”
“I appreciate it. How’s the data on Anna going?”
“Interesting. The chip is going off several times a day; have you noticed any effects?”
Several times a day?Atlas’s hands tightened. Then he wasn’t wrong, something was happening.“Is it triggering that often? She seems okay. I mean, everything is difficult right now.”He frowned, remembering her blank stare when she’d planted with him earlier. During the gardening. How she seemed like she couldn’t quite remember what she was doing. That was what weighed on him now, what had made him want to connect.“No. That’s not accurate. She’s getting periods of confusion, I believe. Is that normal? Did one register right around 2 p.m.?”
“Yes. Several in a row.”
So Atlas wasn’t imagining it. That blank stare Anna had earlier was when she couldn’t find her shovel.
He stared at the chip on her neck, revolted.“Is there enough data to rip this off yet?”
“No.”Even mentally, Sterling’s voice was sympathetic. “Not unless you want a huge uproar. Everything is stable right now. The consensus is calm. I would do it after she has the baby and everything is settled. Give it some time and routine first.”
He pushed her hair back over the chip.“But what is it doing to her in the meantime?”
Sterling sighed instead of answering.
Atlas’s entire body sagged.“That’s what I thought.”
“Nothing permanent, but the confusion she’s experiencing was not part of the initial thesis on how it should work.”
Atlas’s hands tightened on Anna’s shoulders.“Do they think all of this is a game? Entertainment?”
“No but . . . she’s still fine, I promise.”
“Let me know if you find anything else out?”
“Absolutely.”
Atlas disconnected. His jaw clenched tight, and he looked at the chip on Anna’s neck with daggers in his eyes. And then the fact that hecouldget angry made him even madder. She was there, resting so trustingly in his arms. But what if she really was mad at him? Or if she didn’t like something he did? She couldn’t tell him.
He winced.I would never know.
That was also part of the reason he hadn’t gone any further with her. The pregnancy was the more obvious cover, but truthfully he didn’t want to join until he was sure that was what she wanted. And how could they be sure? How could he know what she wanted if one of them wasn’t allowed to feel any irritation at all?
He slid out from under Anna, too restless to lie there. The frustration he felt inside bubbled over. He hung his head in his hands.I wish I could fix this.
Instead, he did what a century of habit had instilled in him to calm down. He adjusted his plants and fussed over pH balances. His hands functioned better after being grounded in dirt. The warehouse, over the last week, had been taken over with greenery. Now his life’s work, cuttings from over a hundred years, lived with them. Actually, with his plants now in place, he felt like this was his home too. He had spent many nights methodically tending to them like this.
When he got to his cherry tree, he sank to his knees on the concrete flooring and rubbed one of the leaves in his fingers, automatically testing the moisture content. “. . . Plants really are easier, aren’t they? Old friend?”
Time passed, and he invented tasks for himself to do, sorting things that didn’t really need sorting, starting a new line of pots and cuttings. But whenever his hands stalled he couldn’t help watching Anna, still resting uneasily, stirring in her sleep. What if the neurochip was actually making her suffer? And she didn’t remember that suffering?He gritted his teeth. That was possible. The confusion meant it was doing something different than its sole intention. Atlas clenched his hands into fists.I don’t want to interrogate her. It won’t change anything.He would need to keep better focus on her, and try to keep her calm.
If it didn’t trigger, then nothing would happen. Right?
He needed to keep calm.
Atlas moved from his plants to organizing the cabinet. Throughout the house, he found ration bars, almost hidden away. He preferred order, but didn’t move them. He’d noticed before when he cleared them that they reappeared in different spots. That’s when he noticed it wasn’t an accident. That pattern. Anna was putting them high in cabinets in the oddest locations. Even here, that she felt the need to have an emergency supply hidden broke something in him.
. . . And here he was again. Angry enough for both of them that life had been so cruel to her to need that.
He left all her secret spots alone and fretted instead around the house, looking up old manuals in his database about brain plasticity and the nervous system and bringing them forward. Then he sat, scanning through his files.
Leo, the head researcher, was meticulous. Everything was designed to work with the nervous system in theory. There should absolutely be no permanent damage, nor would it cross the blood barrier to impact the baby.
The baby.The baby.Atlas rubbed a hand down his jaw. That was something unknown and unpredictable. He walked into the back room, where he put his hand on the crib that sat in the middle of the room. Having the crib here said it all. The baby would be coming soon. But it was also a lonely symbol in a room that was otherwise sparse.
