“Don’t hide behind them. You’re afraid I’ll choose to leave.”
He stepped back like I’d struck him. “I’m just trying to protect everyone involved.”
“By lying to me?” I shook my head, disgust and disappointment churning together. “I thought we?—”
I cut myself off. What could I say? I thought we had something? I thought you respected me?
Without waiting for his response, I pushed past him and out of the supply room. My feet carried me through the corridors, past surprised cyborgs, and out of the medical bay entirely. The humid jungle air hit my face as I emerged onto a wide pathway between structures.
The colony sprawled before me, a bizarre blend of advanced technology and frontier settlement carved from the wild jungle itself. I walked without direction, my mind racing uncontrollably. Someone on Earth was looking for me. There was a chance, however slim, of going back home.
So why didn’t that thought bring pure joy?
I sensed more than heard Aeon following me, keeping his distance but unwilling to let me wander alone. Even now, he was protecting me—from the jungle, maybe from others, and obviously from the truth.
I continued to walk through the colony, trying to clear my head. The afternoon sun filtered through the enormous jungle canopy above, dappling light across the pathways between structures. Moisture clung to my skin as I moved deeper into the heart of this strange cyborg settlement. Aeon’s footsteps echoed behind me—never too close but never too far—a constant presence tracking my movements.
A young cyborg mother played with her small child alongside the pathway. Their laughter sounded so human it made my chest ache. They looked up as I passed, their eyes following me with curious wonder.
The true weight of Aeon’s words hit me as I watched them. Earth’s government and CyberEvolution wouldn’t just come for me. They’d come for all of them. These children, the pregnant women I’d been helping, Aeon himself... all erased from existence because they’d dared to think for themselves, to feel, and to want lives of their own.
My pace slowed as a terrible thought occurred to me. What if they discovered my connection to Ben? Somehow found his letter where he’d detailed his secret support of cyborg independence. I could possibly be charged as a sympathizer, maybe even an accomplice.
Cyborgs don’t need our permission to be human, Ben had written in the letter. They just need us to recognize they already are.
I stopped walking at the edge of a small clearing, where cyborgs tended to gardens. The contrast was striking—advanced beings cultivating the earth with their hands, connected to something primal and essential.
I turned. Aeon stood ten paces behind me, his broad shoulders outlined against the fading light. His face remained impassive, but his eyes—those intense eyes—watched me with an emotion that looked suspiciously like worry.
As I looked at him, fresh fear coiled in my stomach. “They could think I’m complicit,” I said, my voice breaking.
His brow furrowed, those piercing eyes studying me. “What are you talking about?”
I closed the distance between us, lowering my voice. “Ben was my best friend, and he was clearly actively supporting cyborg freedom before he died. He believed in your humanity.”
“Yes, I know.” Aeon’s voice softened. “He provided the foundational coding for our reprogramming.”
“That’s what I’m terrified about,” I hissed, glancing around. “After he died, I found a letter in our field hospital, tucked into my desk. He wrote about how cyborgs don’t need human permission to be human—that you already are. If CyberEvolution ever found that letter, they could easily paint me as some kind of operative in your liberation movement.”
Aeon clenched his jaw tightly, the muscle there twitching with tension. “You kept that letter?”
“Of course I kept it. It was the last thing he ever gave me.” I ran a hand through my hair, disturbing the waves that had grown wilder in the humid jungle air. “Ben is dead. They can’t punish him. But me? I’d make a perfect scapegoat.”
Aeon stepped closer, his broad shoulders blocking out the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. He smelled like the jungle after rain—earthy and clean and alive.
“The news feed we saw this morning,” he said, his voice low, “it was showing some Dr. Naomi West. She’s starting a search for you.”
My breath caught. “Naomi? She’s my closest friend at Boston Memorial. We’ve worked together for years.”
A flash of something—jealousy? concern?—crossed his face. “How well do you trust her?”
“With my life,” I answered without hesitation. “She’s not with CyberEvolution. She’s just worried about me.”
His hand reached toward me, hesitating before gently touching my shoulder. The heat of his palm seeped through my thin shirt, a stark reminder of our night together.
“If we reached out to her directly,” I suggested, the idea forming as I spoke, “explained the situation, maybe she could be our connection to Earth. A peaceful contact.”
“Absolutely not.” His fingers tightened slightly on my shoulder. “One person knowing our location puts every cyborg here at risk. Every unborn child, every pregnant woman you’ve been helping.”
