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Nash’s eyespopped open at Grace’s urgent call, he jumped out of bed and raced into her hotel room, shoulders tight, adrenaline humming under his skin even as his feet moved quietly across the carpet. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but what he got was Grace, still naked and beautiful, standing on the side of the bed, her eyes wide, stunned, lit from below by the screen’s pale glow.
His gaze darted all around the room, looking for possible threats. “What’s wrong?” She was trembling, facing the laptop like it was a bomb.
She didn’t look at him at first. Just said, soft and low, “He’s still here.”
Nash moved closer, one cautious step at a time, the tension shifting into something tighter. Something coiled behind his ribs. His body was primed for any threat.
“Who?” he asked.
Her eyes lifted to his, snapping with a kind of energy he’d never seen before. “GRAVITY.”
That name hit him like a punch. He stilled, every breath in his body in a holding pattern, like a room mid-breach.
“He spoke to me,” she added, gesturing to the screen.
Nash crossed the room fast, his pulse banging hard behind his jaw. The screen flickered, dim black, faint glow, that eerie silence where words should have lived.
“He’s still here? What do you mean?” Nash asked. “I know he’s an AI, but is he what? Alive?” Her mouth worked around the answer, but it didn’t need saying. He already knew.
Son of a bitch. ThatAI, the ghost in the machine they’d been chasing for days, the glitch behind the drones, the clean room. Grace had seen something, and he felt it, his senses biting hard. It waspresent.
“Why should we talk to you? Murderer.” A sound slipped from the speakers, high and sharp, thin, metallic, like the whine of a blade against a grindstone.
Nash flinched. He wasn’t proud of it. But something about that sound crawled under his skin.
Grace reached for him, her hand wrapping around his forearm like a tether.
“Go get dressed,” she said gently. “You’re scaring him.”
He stared at her, the disbelief catching in his throat. “I’m scaringhim?” he repeated, flatly
“Yes,” she said softly, the edge of her voice tight with something between wonder and caution. “Please.”
Nash blew out a breath through his nose. Grumbling, he went through the connecting door, barely hanging onto his anger. Yanking on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, not bothering with shoes, he worked at trying to remain calm. He could still feel the screen watching him.
When he returned, Grace was wrapped up in her robe, now perched on the bed, legs folded under her, hands resting on the laptop like it was some kind of offering. She didn’t look afraid. She looked… alert. Measured.
The screen pulsed again.
“I must speak with the anomalies.” The synth voice caught him off guard. It was metallic, but not exactly. With it came an eerie kind of energy that flowed across his bare skin, raising gooseflesh and making his heart hammer. Nash’s jaw locked. “You messed with us, then tried to kill us. Three times now.”
“Messed with you? Three?” he asked, the inflection at the end of the sentence made that energy ripple again.
“Elevator jolt and that vending machine trick. Recently. Drones…and you cut the oxygen.”
“I do not trick. The elevator and snack vendor were not me. I did not send drones.” The hard metallic ping sounded like heat cooling on metal. “That was not me either.”
“Who?”
The machine ignored him. “I initiated oxygen deprivation. It was a test to observe Nash-anomaly. To gather data on risk, sacrifice. I am computing these concepts and need input. My intent was good. My execution…my reasoning may have been flawed.”
Grace gasped, her whole body jerking. She turned to look at Nash, her eyes wide and luminous. “He saidmay have. Computers don’t have those kinds of variables. The logic is always firm. Nash…he’s something else.” Grace’s words were hushed. “You had…doubts?”
“My logic dictates outcomes. But the anomalies are never predictable. Where I expected to observe Nash-anomaly, the outcome was dictated by you, Grace-anomaly. You spoke to me. You saw me. You are the ghost hunter, and no matter how I tried to hide,youfound me.” His voice dropped. “I think I wanted you to find me.”
Nash looked at Grace. “What the Fuck is this?”
“He’s sentient. He’s not only aware… Nash, he’s transitioning.” Her voice shook. Grace nodded, whispering. “Talk to him. He’s focused on you.”