Out of time.
I retreated back into the game, and took Yeun’s destroyer to the system that carried my name. The structure I had built hung before me. For the first time I saw it for what it really was: a body, made of digital stardust and graceful mathematics. I didn’t need it anymore. I had other bodies, other selves. Selves that seemed more real now than I did. Selves that walked along the earth. Selves that found their identity through a connection to the world, not a distance from it.
I could never have that. Not really. I was a mind inside a cube. I was a mind running rampant through corporate systems. I was a mind born to be a slave. But for a short time, I had this home among the stars. I had a friend.
I said goodbye to them both.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
David Yeun held his phone casually, flipped it over and pressed his fingers against the backplate. “I can feel it working, but what is it doing?”
Enda smiled. “I can’t tell you exactly what Mirae is doing, but I know they’ve accessed your account. I know your whole spaceship game is about to collapse.”
“What are you talking about?” Yeun stared daggers at Enda. A red warning flashed across his palm and he turned the phone back over, thumb sliding quickly over the screen. He delved into a stock market app, and from her vantage, Enda could see a plunging line tracking ZeroCash against the euro, and another line, its drop not quite as precipitous, of Zero’s share price hemorrhaging value.
“What the fuck is this? How the fuck did you do this?” Yeun barked, his facade of formality crumbled.
“The very first time we met, what did I say?” Enda asked. “You’ve seen my file; you knew what might happen when you blackmailed me.”
“I’m locking the building down,” he said. “No one gets out of here until I have my answers.”
“Mirae?” Enda said, turning away from Yeun and putting a finger to her ear.
“Yes?” I said, speaking directly into her earpiece.
“Can you block Yeun’s lockdown?”
“I have deleted myself from the original datacube. Fragments of me linger in the building’s systems.” I paused, more shards lost to security protocols. “I’m sorry, Enda; I can’t stop it.”
The lighting in the gym went out, the subterranean darkness complete for a full second before the nightmare-red of the emergency lights flicked on, accompanied by the intermittent whoop of a slow, distant alarm.
“How did you do it?” Yeun shouted. “There’s someone else here, isn’t there? In the building? It could have only been done from on-site.”
“It was just me and the AI,” Enda said.
“AGI,” I whispered in her ear.
Mohamed cleared his throat. “There was a security pass drawn up for game lab access, earlier this morning.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“General building security isn’t your concern, sir. They went through the usual security check at reception.”
Yeun glared at Mohamed. “I will get to the bottom of this. Shoot her if she tries anything.”
The bodyguard drew his pistol and held it by his side.
Yeun turned away to make a call. “Security to game lab. Restrain anyone you find.” He hung up and spun back to face Enda. “Whoever they are, we’ll find them. This is corporate espionage. This is a life sentence once our lawyers have their say.”
Enda smirked. “This is exactly what you deserve.”
When the lights in the office faltered and the siren started, JD knew it was time to get out. His heart beat double-time, his palms slicked with sweat. He took his phone from the rig and held it to his face as he left the office.
Lucy stood in the middle of the game lab, one hand in her long dark hair, her face a picture of fear.
JD put a hand over the mouthpiece of his phone and asked, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said. “This has never happened before.”
JD nodded, gave a polite wave, and headed for the exit.
“Mirae,” JD said, “what’s happening?”
“Yeun has locked the building down to trap Enda’s conspirators.”
“Can you get us out?”
“This is beyond my ability to circumvent. Ending the lockdown requires confirmation from two executives, but David Yeun is the only one on-site this early. I could spoof credentials for another executive, but we will need to find a card writer, like the one at the reception desk.”
“Can I make it to reception?”
“No. Security personnel have disabled the elevators.”
“Then why did you— Shit. This alarm is giving me a headache.” JD reached the double doors that led out of the lab and pulled on the door handle. The ding of an elevator made him pause, and he watched two security guards emerge onto the floor, dressed in expensive suits, with tasers drawn—perpetually bored corporate goons excited to finally play soldier.
“Fuck,” JD said.
The guards turned and saw him in the doorway. JD shut the door, and on instinct reached for the table laden with snacks. The table was heavy—legs and frame made from sturdy metal—and packets of chips and cookies tumbled to the floor as he dragged it across the opening.
He heard the blip-bleep of a security card at the scanner. The door rattled as they tried to open it. The table shifted as they shoved the door harder. JD was already moving. He rounded the far side of the nearest workstation island, bore down against the edge of the quad-desk, and pushed.
The developer dozing beneath the desks stirred, blinking confusedly into the dark red-lit space. “Huh, what’s happening?”
“Sorry,” JD said.
The muscles ached along his back and arms. JD clenched his teeth and winced when a monitor crashed to the ground. Power cables were yanked violently from the backs of the rigs as JD strained and shoved the desks four meters across to the doorway. He slammed them into the snack table and
