“Well, look, maybe bitches make him happy. How’s that your problem?”
“If they make him happy, then okay. But they never do.”
“Give her a chance. Try and get to know her . . .”
“Like I have a choice.” Hope pouted. “Did you speak to Luke? I thought you’d text me last night.”
“I was waiting for you to make the first move.”
“How did he take it?”
“Good. He’s happy for us.”
“Really?”
“Is your dad staying the whole weekend?” Josh asked.
“Probably. Why?”
“I guess that means we won’t be seeing each other. Man, it’s going to be a long weekend. I know it’s still too early to be saying that kind of thing—Luke told me to play it cool, but I’m too tired for all that.”
“You know, since my dad wants to show me his latest squeeze, I don’t see why I can’t do the same,” Hope mused.
“Are you saying you want me to be your bitch?”
Hope nearly choked on her tea.
“I see you’re ignoring Luke’s advice . . .”
“What’s your dad like?”
“He’s amazing. A little old-school, but don’t freak out; he doesn’t bite.”
Hope checked her watch and pushed back from the table.
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me. I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to work together.”
“What if I showed you something truly incredible,” Josh pressed. “Would you give me another chance to convince you?”
“You can try.”
“First, you need to promise you won’t tell a soul. I could get into big trouble.”
“Are you synthesizing drugs? Is that it?”
“I’m flattered that’s how you see me . . .”
“Luke was right,” Hope laughed. “Humor isn’t your strong suit.”
“Wait, what? You guys talk about me behind my back?”
“Just like we’re talking about Luke now. Listen, I guess this week is my ‘give people a chance’ week. I’ll hear you out. So wow me.”
Josh leaned in to Hope and kissed her.
“Wait until tonight. And by the way,” he said, standing, “I’m not ‘people.’”
At that precise moment, Luke stepped out of the building and strode toward the parking lot. Ducking into his car, he swept a hand under the seat, fishing out a small notebook. He jotted down a few lines, before tucking the notebook back into place. He closed the car door without locking it, pulled up the antenna at the front, and ran into the main amphitheater.
Professor Flinch’s class had been going for half an hour by the time Luke pushed open the door.
“You’re late,” Josh whispered, moving his knees to the side to allow his friend through.
Luke sat down and pulled out his tablet.
“Did I miss anything?”
“Not really.”
“Where’s Hope?”
From the next row down, an arm shot up.
“I didn’t hear my alarm,” Luke muttered.
Hope turned around and glared at him. Luke flashed her a smile before looking over to Flinch, who was tapping away on a keyboard. His device was linked up to a projector.
“Now that we’re all here and sitting comfortably,” the professor started, shooting Luke a hard stare, “let me tell you about a remarkable, incredibly promising experiment six of my students recently conducted. They used electrodes on a monkey to allow a computer to record the electric impulses emitted by its brain. Specifically, when it used its right arm.”
A photograph of a marmoset flashed onto the screen behind Flinch. It looked like the monkeys that scientists had sent into space in the twentieth century.
“If anyone here is worried about Mako, the charming little primate you see before you—relax. As you can see, the electrodes were fitted to a helmet. He felt no pain.”
A rumble of satisfaction rippled around the room. Flinch beamed at his students before making a clicking sound with his tongue and continuing on with his class.
“By doing this, we were able to see what happens in Mako’s brain to prompt him to move his arm in different ways.”
A new image popped up, this time showing a series of graphs depicting the monkey’s electroencephalogram results.
“The next step was to hook this computer up to a robotic arm.”
A picture of a mechanical arm with an articulated hand appeared against the wall.
“We set this arm up in a separate room,” explained Flinch. “The computer quickly learned to read the monkey’s brain waves and to control the robotic arm. Or rather, to replicate the movements that Mako was making with his own arm.”
The screen behind the professor split into halves as two videos began playing simultaneously. On the left, Mako was shown shaking his hand. On the right, the robotic arm was visible, replicating the movement perfectly. The students clapped. Flinch smiled brightly, before waving at them to quiet down.
“Calm yourselves. You’ll see that the best is yet to come. We fitted out the monkey’s room with a screen, on which Mako was able to see the robotic arm. And Mako was fascinated.”
A picture of Mako’s curious face prompted the students to laugh. Only Hope remained silent, seeing nothing at all amusing in the way in which the animal had been subjected to the experiment.
“Mako immediately understood that everything he did with his arm, the computer copied. And he loved it. As you can see in the images being shown now, Mako began moving his arm again and again, taking control of the robot. In a way, it’s similar to a human playing with a remote-controlled toy.”
More tittering from the audience. Suddenly, Mako froze, and the students fell silent with him. On the left of the screen, the articulated arm continued to shake, while the monkey remained perfectly still.
“That’s right.” Flinch nodded, a satisfied note edging into his voice. “Our little marmoset was able to control the robotic arm remotely, using nothing more than his brain waves.”
The students rose to stand and began clapping.
“I’ll let you guess what conclusions we can draw from such an experiment,” Flinch boomed across the room as the spectators responded with a standing ovation.
“Just think of all the soldiers who have lost limbs in the battlefield and who one
