The Girl Who Dared to Stand (The Girl Who Dared #2)

The Girl Who Dared to Stand (The Girl Who Dared #2)

Bella Forrest




1





Before the Tower, humanity dreamed of being the first—the first to discover a new land, the first to innovate, the first to unify, the first to destroy. Once something was done, it could never be undone, but it could always be improved upon. Art, writing, math, science… always pushing further and accomplishing more than those who came before them.

Those who came first were remembered in great monoliths that survived eons of war and weather. Some were only written about, their histories and deeds recorded for the world to marvel at. Some did great things. Most did not.

Yet we remembered them anyway—learned about them through books and song. We evolved through them, through their deeds, learning about what was good and what was evil, what was right or wrong, and what worked and what didn’t. In exchange, we held the light of their history in our hands, cupping it tightly to protect and shelter it, carrying it forward through history. Their memories and legacies were preserved for as long as humanity continued to survive.

Before the Tower, we knew our legacy. Now, it seemed the last innovation we had was the only one we remembered anymore—the Tower, and the great AI who guarded it, Scipio.

Who had somehow managed to find me, in spite of my desperate attempts to escape his eye.

I managed to sit down before my legs gave out, my heart still pounding so loudly that I could hear its frantic beat in my eardrums. There was not enough oxygen in the Tower to satisfy my lungs, and yet I still tried to find it.

I stared numbly around the old office I found myself in, my eyes tracing the well-used but dusty furniture, the dim lights, the sealed and shut door. Evidently, nobody knew it was here. I hadn’t known it was here, but then again—why would I? We were nestled beneath Greenery 1, one of the many long farming floors that jutted out from the sides of the Tower, dangling over the river that provided us with power and fresh water. I was mostly unfamiliar with these floors: I hadn’t grown up inside them. But this room was here nonetheless (and decidedly odd, considering it was an office situated directly under an animal farm), buried under the miles of concrete and iron and glass that made up the frame of the Tower—the structure that had both saved and enslaved us nearly three hundred years ago. Although, not many people shared my views on the whole enslaving thing.

Which was only the genius of Scipio, the AI supposedly created to keep us safe. He protected them from so-called dissidents like me.

And here I was—Liana Castell—speaking with him. Scipio. The guy—or thing—that ran the Tower itself. One who would kill me and my friends without compunction because he was the one who ultimately decided who or what was dangerous to the Tower. Frankly, I didn’t think an AI should have that much power.

“Are you all right?”

A surprised laugh escaped me as I looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. How could I even explain the irony without dissolving into tears or screaming in frustration? How could I express the way I felt like I was drowning in the fear that, once again, I had led Scipio and the Knights to our doorstep, and this time we had nowhere to run?

“Hello?” The voice came again, brimming with concern and confusion, and I recognized it for the trick it was. He was trying to distract me.

“How long do I have?” I asked abruptly, my mind already spinning. Maybe if I moved fast enough, I could give everyone time to run away. I could shout a warning down the vent shaft they were undoubtedly still working their way through. Grey had been ahead of me when I’d turned off to investigate the strange sound I had been hearing. If I shouted loud enough, he would hear. Then maybe I could get outside—to the underside of the greenery—and lead the Knights away. Buy everyone time to find somewhere else to hide.

“Have before what?”

I bit back a growl. “I never imagined Scipio as the sort of AI to play dumb.”

“I’m not playing.”

“So you’re just dumb, then. Interesting.” Okay, maybe mocking the computer that basically controlled every aspect of life inside the Tower wasn’t the best idea, but after losing Cali, a woman who had opened her home to me and my friends in our hour of need, and Roark, the man who had saved me by creating a drug called Paragon to hide my rank, I couldn’t seem to care. Devon Alexander, Champion of the Knights, had killed two people who had actually cared for me the way I liked to imagine my parents would have if they weren’t so devoted to the Tower. And now I was talking to the very thing that had probably ordered Devon’s actions—and could lead him here to finish the job.

“I am not dumb,” the synthesized voice exclaimed indignantly. “And you’re not asking clear questions.”

There was no way to tell if he could see my eye roll, but that didn’t stop me from doing it. In no interaction I’d ever had with him had he expressed himself so… forcefully. His demeanor had always been cold and arrogant, making me think of a prince seated on a frozen throne. Then again, perhaps it was due to the fact that I was merely a Squire, an apprentice to the Knights, and wasn’t worthy enough for him to be polite. Former Squire, rather. Having filed my letter of resignation in the form of breaking my future boyfriend, now future cellmate, out of a gas chamber meant to kill him.

The Scipio I had imagined had always seemed like a no-nonsense sort of AI. So if I was meeting him face-to-face, I would have expected at least the decency of a straight-up conversation. But nope, it seemed Scipio was just a jerk all around. I shouldn’t have expected anything less.