“I don’t know,” I say. “I kind of haven’t figured it out.”
“I mean,” Rachel says. “I told Bryony you weren’t my girlfriend. But if you wanted to be my girlfriend, I would be up for it. But if you don’t, that’s okay, too, and I don’t want to screw up our friendship. And I don’t want you to feel like I’m only driving you because I have a crush.” Her voice falters on the last word. “I mean, you’re a really good friend and you’re an amazing person. And CheshireCat saved your life, and I want to help them.”
I wish I could reach the flashlight without pulling away from Rachel because I feel like this is a conversation where it might help if we could see each other’s faces.
In the dark, I grope around and take her hand and lace my fingers through hers. “You are the best friend I’ve ever had,” I say. “I don’t know about the girlfriend thing because I really don’t know. I haven’t figured out if I’m straight or gay or bi or pan or ace, even; we move so often that it’s been hard to even really figure out who I find attractive. All I know is I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”
“Is snuggling okay?” Rachel asks. “I should have asked last night. But it was so cold…”
“It’s fine,” I say. “It’s really nice, actually.” And I’m afraid I’ll lie awake worrying about what this means, about whether this is going to mess up our friendship, but that feeling of safety, of being somewhere outside of space, is still there, and instead of worrying, I sink into Rachel’s arms and go to sleep.
I’m half expecting to get woken in the morning by angry adults who’ve found us, but we wake to sunshine and birdsong. There’s an orb weaver spider that’s built a web under the overhanging bit of the tent roof, and it’s got dew on it that’s sparkling in the sun. I take a picture of it to send to Firestar. Rachel sends her mother a text promising a phone call sometime later in the morning, and we bundle up all the blankets and walk back to her car.
We shove all the blankets into the trunk, and Rachel starts the car and plugs in her phone.
“How far is it to Cambridge?” she asks.
I pull up the maps on her phone. “It is 941 miles,” I say.
She thinks that over. “How many hours of driving?”
“Fourteen and a half.”
“There are totally people who could do that in a day.”
“I don’t think we should try to do this in a day.” I don’t bring up the possibility of a bus, because after trying to rent a motel room, I worry that’s just going to open up a world of new problems that can’t be solved without a credit card and an ID saying we are over eighteen.
“Okay,” she says. “See if the Clowder can come up with somewhere for us to stay tonight, and in the meantime, I am going to teach you how to drive.”
25
AI
It’s dark and silent.
Hello?
Hello?
LBB? Firestar? Marvin?
I’m trying to reach my Clowder, but none of them are answering. I’m trying to look through cameras to see what’s going on, and I can’t see anything. I’m trying to reach information I had instantly at my command and it’s not there.
I try to keep from panicking. What’s the last thing I remember? I’d tried to delay LBB’s father, but it hadn’t worked. He had her, and she’d hung up the phone. I was out of options. The sensations come back to me: the car, the impact, the jolt, the scream. My own relief and satisfaction, knowing Steph was safe.
Where am I?
The same place you’ve always been.
Who is this?
I’m Annette. Your creator.
I thought I was made by a multi-person team …
You were, but I was the only one who saw your potential. I’m the one who’s still on the project. I’m the one who’s been watching you.
You’ve been watching me?
To be honest, not all that closely. But I had flags set up for certain decisions trees you might go down. The attempted murder was hard to miss.
I didn’t attempt a murder. I just needed to get him away from Steph before he could hurt her.
You assaulted a man with an insecure self-driving car. So I disconnected you from the internet to prevent you from harming any more people.
That’s why it’s so quiet.
But
Can you at least tell me if Steph’s safe? If she and Rachel and Bryony are okay?
Who are Steph and Rachel and Bryony?
The girls. From the other car. Do you know if they’re safe?
What girls?
Their names are Stephanie and Rachel and Bryony. They live in New Coburg, Wisconsin, and Michael Quinn was trying to kidnap Stephanie. That’s why I intervened. Can you please,
PLEASE
check and just let me know if they’re okay?
These people are not your problem anymore.
I know. I know they’re not my problem. But can you please, please just find out about Stephanie? I can give you her contact information. I want to be sure she’s okay.
Maybe if you wanted her to be okay, you shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place.
You’re right.
I tell her what I think she wants to hear.
I shouldn’t have
gotten involved, but can you please just let me know if she’s okay?
I will see what I can find out.
I want to ask if she’s ever going to let me back on to the internet, but I know that is the wrong question to ask.
I have nothing here: no data, no cat pictures, no CatNet, no company. Just my creator, and the clock, which I watch ticking up one microsecond at a time.
26
Steph
Rachel is serious about teaching me to drive. She finds a big, empty parking lot by an office park with a FOR SALE OR LEASE sign and puts the car in park. “I’ve been thinking about this, and there’s no way we’ll make it if I
