That meant when I set off the EMP, Becca would lose every picture she had of her mom. Every voice recording. Every video.
All to destroy a sentient AI.
My jaw ached and I realized I was clenching my teeth. If I set off that EMP, I would be destroying Becca’s memories of her mother. And if I didn’t, ISD would drop me. Maybe I’d end up in prison. Or maybe they’d just stop my half-mechanical heart.
I couldn’t do it.
Ihadto do it.
“Hey,” I said. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom?”
I walked quietly down the stairs, peering into the kitchen. Mr. Bergvall was still at the table, typing away on a laptop. I wondered if he was working on the spybot at that very moment.
I turned down the hallway. There were several doors and I softly opened each one. There was the bathroom, a guest bedroom, and—
An office.
It had to be Mr. Bergvall’s office, although it wasn’t unpacked yet. Three old black-and-white film posters were framed but hadn’t been hung yet. Half-empty boxes lined one wall and the desk chair looked brand new. I was hesitating in the doorway when the power flickered out.
There was a soft buzz as every light in the town house went dark. I stood in the shadowed hallway, heart pounding.
This was it. This was the moment I was supposed to set off the EMP.
I heard a chair creak as Mr. Bergvall stood up. I hastily stepped away from his office door. “What’s going on?” I asked.
Mr. Bergvall was frowning. He opened the fridge, but there was no familiar hum of machinery. He shut it. “Power outage, I think. I’ll ask a neighbor, see if it’s just us or if the whole building is out.” He walked to the front door and went outside.
Adrenaline burned through my veins in a hot rush. This was my moment, the best chance I’d get.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Becca called from the stairs.
“Power outage!” I yelled back. Then I ducked into Mr. Bergvall’s office. I didn’t know how long it would take him to check on the power.
I knelt beside a filing cabinet and pulled it open. Inside was a small, electronic safe. I frowned at it.Electronic locks didn’t have the same vulnerabilities as traditional safes. I couldn’t listen for the tumblers or any of the other famous techniques to break into a safe.
Well, it was a good thing I was a hacker.
When I was twelve, I’d devised a program to open the safe in my school principal’s office. I’d wanted to sell the answer keys inside for some extra money to go on a field trip. And I’d have managed it, if not for a janitor wandering into her office at the exact wrong moment.
I pulled off my visor. Then, as quickly as I could, I pried open the digital keypad and pulled a wire free. I plugged it into my visor and flicked my ringware to activate the program.
“Come on,” I muttered. “Come on, come on—yes.”
The safe clicked open.
Within were several manila envelopes, a black metal box with a bumblebee decoration, and an old-fashioned tablet. I picked up the tablet. If I was going to hide a sentient AI, it would be—
“Hello.”
The voice made me drop the tablet.
I glanced over my shoulder, ready to offer an explanation to Mr. Bergvall. But it hadn’t been his voice.
And then I saw the portable speakers on the desk. They must have run on battery power, unaffected by the outage. I picked up a speaker, leaning into it. “Hello?”
“Down here.”
I looked down. And then I saw the toy bumblebee wave one of its tiny legs.
