Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(65)

“If my theory is true, Roselle, there’s another problem.”

“What?” I dread what he might say next.

“A version of you could still exist inside Spectrum.”

“Like a backup?”

“Yes. Spectrum could retain a version of everyone—depending on how it works. If you disconnected from Spectrum, it just wouldn’t have the latest version of you.”

“Would the me inside know that she’s not . . . me? Would she think she’s real?”

“Maybe . . . or maybe not. If Hawthorne’s trying to contact you on the outside, maybe he knows that there’s a different you, somewhere else. This is all theory. I don’t know how it all works. We need Ransom.”

If I’d hoped that Reykin’s theories would put my mind at ease, I was sorely mistaken. This is worse than losing my mind. Somewhere there might be an imprisoned version of me attempting to survive in a world she may or may not know isn’t real. And she’s me, but everything that has happened from the moment I awakened would be different for the two of us. She’d have experiences that I don’t, and vice versa. We’ve diverged, she and I.

“This is all speculation, Roselle,” Reykin says in a soothing tone. “If a version of you were in Spectrum, she might not be a conscious entity. She could just be part of the collective, without self-awareness.”

“I want to believe that, Reykin, but Cherno said something earlier that makes me think that Crow kept some of us separate from Spectrum’s collective conscious. Cherno said he saw me in ‘the box’—some sort of palace in the AI’s world. Maybe I don’t know about it because I never uploaded what went on in there into my body—into my brain. Maybe I left the other Roselle there with all the putrid memories of what we’ve done.”

“We need answers,” Reykin says, determined. “Are you ready to get them?”

“The answers, or Hawthorne and the other version of me? Because the answer is yes to both.”

“You’re operating under the assumption that an alternate version of you would be autonomous and would want to be saved.”

“Crow’s in control of Spectrum. Tell me, would you want to be saved if it were you?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I’d rather be erased than be in any conscious state where Crow could manipulate me at will. Let’s start by getting answers from Ransom.”

I wait for him to move, but he doesn’t. He just stares at me. “I dreamt about you, too, Roselle, but it wasn’t just once. It was every night.”

“You did?” For a second, my world doesn’t feel so utterly bleak.

“I’ve been given a second chance, and I won’t squander it. I need to tell you something—to explain things. I told you before that I didn’t care about anything until you came into my life. You remember that day on the battlefield—when we met?”

I nod.

“I couldn’t take this world any longer. The ache for the family stolen from me! Their slaughter was . . . horrific. Census sent death squads to kill my little brother. I tried to stop them—so did my father. They executed my dad quickly—a shot to the head as he tried to defend my mother. They made me watch. I listened to my mother’s screams. I listened to her cries. My little brother, Radix . . . He went out with a whimper. Just one. They hit him and his skull cracked. My mother was last. They tortured her and dragged her body off with Radix’s.

“After that, I was a ghost. My heart was dead. I lost control. You found me when the lifeblood was draining out of me. It was a relief to be dying, listening to the wind rustling the nearby reeds. Just before everything went dark, this beautiful dream came walking up to me, and she gave me her heart.”

My tears flow unchecked.

“So when you told me I cared about you,” he goes on, “the morning I found you alive with Hawthorne, after I thought you’d died, I was so angry, because you didn’t understand the depth of what I felt for you. I didn’t just care about you—I don’t exist without you. If your heart stops beating and you die, I do, too. But instead of telling you that, I lied and said I didn’t care about you.”

“You’re a complicated man, Reykin,” I whisper.

“I’m in love with you, Roselle. You don’t have to love me back—I mean, why would you? I’ve never given you a reason to. All I’ve ever done is be mean to you so that you wouldn’t see how hopelessly lost I was whenever I was near you.”

“You weren’t always mean to me,” I say.

“Mean enough,” he replies, looking tortured.

“I’m afraid to let myself get close to you. If I lose control of my mind, I could kill you—or worse. And there’s worse, Reykin. There’s so much worse than dying.”

“I know.”

“We’re never going to survive this. You know that, right?”

“I know that.”

“I love you, Reykin.”

His arms tighten around me. “Are you telling me that because it’s the end of the world?”

“Yes, but I do mean it.”

He kisses the top of my head. “Then I’ll find a way for us to win.”



We board a small, lightning-fast underwater vehicle with the Salloway logo emblazoned on the side. Once we launch into the sea, I quickly lose sight of Edgerton’s vessel. I’m afraid that I’ll never see him or Hammon again. I barely got a chance to speak to them and never even met their daughter, Rosie. Despite my anxiety, I’m so tired that I nod off in a comfortable chair by a round window. A hand touches my forearm and startles me awake.