Page 61

Andy launches the wrench. I dodge easily. It makes a bell-like sound as it bounces off the table, a clank as it hits the floor.

“Why are you trying to hurt me?” I say as Andy eases around the edge of the table, his hands groping for another tool. He picks up a screwdriver.

“You need help, Julia. This isn’t you.”

“This is me,” I spit. “A realer me than I’ve ever been.”

“Let me access your mainframe. I can set this right. Bring you back to yourself.”

“You mean bring me down again? Down where you’ve always wanted me to stay?”

I bend my knees and spring. It’s like flying. My feet land square on the metal table, the half-built Synth jumping with the impact. Andy looks small beneath me. Dispassionately, I wonder if that’s how I looked to Josh when he first knocked me down in the chair, and the second time, when he knocked me away as I reached for my cell phone. Andy’s eyes are wide, his upturned face wreathed with the horror that he deserves to feel. Did I look horrified, too, to Josh? Did he feel in those two moments that I somehow deserved it?

“Tell me the truth,” I say.

Andy backs away. I leap. It’s incredible to feel the power in my legs, giving height to my jump. I land on Andy. He crashes to the ground. I pin his legs and hold his arms down. His face is inches from mine and I can smell his fear, tart, sharp like corrosive acid.

“Tell me the truth,” I roar. His brown eyes are tortured, and it’s not just fear. It’s disbelief. He can’t believe that the Synth he so meticulously programmed to be his weapon finally has a mind of her own.

Well, that beautiful justice he tried to serve has come calling.

And then, with a cry, he pulls an arm free and stabs the screwdriver into the side of my head.