They ordered a second round, then a third, and talked about mutual friends, from the Army and from high school. David would have been happy enough to keep going, but Milo begged off. “I promised I’d be home to make dinner for Karina.”
David stayed, ordering a burger and another drink. Better to eat here and drink a little more and then get sober than show up to dinner at home drunk.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
SOPHIE
Sophie momentarily couldn’t figure out why the meeting space was so packed, but then she realized it was first Monday: the general meeting. The risk in running an ongoing rolling meeting space—she’d lost track. First Mondays were the lure for new folks: free coffee, free chili. Music. The hope was that even if they didn’t become regulars, they’d show up again for big actions.
Normally, Sophie celebrated gathering so many anti-Pilot people. Tonight, though, she’d hoped to talk with Gabe about the ID caper. That likely wouldn’t happen; they’d have their hands full managing the crowd.
A tall Black woman approached her. She carried a chipped chili bowl and a coffee mug against her body, using a forearm crutch as she navigated the room.
“Can I get that for you?” Sophie reached for the chili, and the woman let her put it on the bar. Sophie tried to gather a name, but the woman settling herself on a stool looked only vaguely familiar. She pulled out her notebook and flipped back to the night she’d brought Val. She’d had a seizure that night, so anybody she met then might be a stranger today.
There were a few descriptions that didn’t match this woman, then “Tommie—shaved head—Pilot kill after thirteen! years.” A glance at the woman’s fresh scar said she’d recently had her Pilot removed. A likely candidate. Sophie tucked her notebook away.
“I don’t know if you remember me,” the woman said. “My name is Tommie.”
“Thirteen years, right?” Sophie asked, to show she remembered. Tommie didn’t need to know the notebook had jogged her memory.
The woman nodded, touching her head. “I still can’t believe it’s gone.”
“You must have been one of the very first. My brother was the first one I knew, but even he hasn’t had his for as long as you.”
“I was part of the trials. I was twenty and failing school and I needed the money.”
“Did you? Finish school?”
“Yep! Even made honor roll my last semester.”
“I guess that’s how it works sometimes,” Sophie said. “I never figured school out. Do you mind if I ask why you had your Pilot removed? I usually see them deactivated, not removed.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Tommie said. She sipped her coffee. “I wasn’t sure if y’all knew about the new studies.”
Sophie didn’t like to be out of the loop. Fake it ’til you get the gist. “I’ve heard some stuff. Which new studies?”
“BNL is contacting people from those early trials. They’re asking us to do different things. Some are just having tests done. You know, to see if their batteries are still going strong, to see if the implants are still as effective as they were at the beginning.”
“And?” Sophie leaned into the bar.
“We’re not supposed to tell people, so you didn’t hear this from me, but they paid me fifty thousand bucks to have mine taken out entirely.”
Sophie was glad she was leaning. She probably would have fallen over in surprise. “Why?”
“Why the money, or why did they ask, or why did I do it?”
“All the above.” She didn’t try to hide her interest or her ignorance anymore.
“I wasn’t sure at first. I might not have done it, except, well, that’s a lot of money. I figured I could always have it put back later.”
Sophie frowned. “Have it put back later” was not exactly a catchphrase for the anti-Pilot movement. “So, you said yes.”
“If I invested some of that money I wouldn’t need a Pilot. I wouldn’t have to work.”
For a few years, thought Sophie, and you’d still be Pilot-less in a Piloted world.
Tommie continued. “They made me do some tests, then had me return the next week. They removed it, and they asked me to come back a week later. They ran a bunch more tests. I think the same tests they were running on the people who hadn’t had their Pilots removed.”
Across the room, Gabe tried to catch her eye. He made an is everything cool? gesture, and she gave him a quick nod. “What kind of tests?”
“The same old stuff. Verbal questions and physical puzzles to do simultaneously, timed. Math problems while counting flashing lights.”
“Okay?”
“And I tested the same.”
“The same?”
“The same as before.”
“The same as before you had the Pilot, or the same as when you had the Pilot?”
“As when I had the Pilot. All the multitasking stuff.”
Sophie ran a hand across her hair. “So you’re saying you never needed it?”
“No.” Tommie was clearly frustrated with her. “I’m saying they took out my Pilot but my brain still thinks I have one.”
“I don’t understand,” Sophie said, her cheeks flushing.
“Have you heard of neuroplasticity? Brains rewiring themselves around a problem?”
Sophie nodded. You don’t read about seizures without reading about hemispherectomies and laser ablation and brain functions regained.
“My brain is still firing the way the Pilot trained it to fire, without the Pilot.”
“I don’t get why you’re here,” Sophie said. “You’re not anti-Pilot.”
“I’m not, but I’m not sure this is a good thing.”
Sophie had to get over the fact that not everyone chose sides. The fact that Tommie was here was enough. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks for telling me. That’s definitely a concern. I’m going to tell Gabe about it.”
She strode across the room, leaving Tommie to her chili. Something was bothering her about the rewiring, but she couldn’t figure out what. Maybe Gabe would figure
