Lifel1k3 (Lifelike #1)(36)

“What gives you the right to make that judgment? You’re a bean counter, Lila.”

“And you’re a man playing at being the Almighty. Look at the names you gave them: Gabriel? Uriel? Ezekiel? Can your god complex be more obvious, Nicholas?”

“You’re not taking them away from me.”

“You may be president of this Corporation,” Dresden says flatly, “but GnosisLabs is still run by a board. If the other CorpStates found out about this, every pre-100-Series android would have to be recalled. All of our tech would come into question. The balance between us and BioMaas and Daedalus is tenuous at best. We cannot appear weak.”

My father’s voice is dark with fury. “If not for me, this Corp would still be grubbing in the ashes. I made Gnosis what it is today.”

“I’m sure the board will take your service into consideration.”

“Don’t push me, Lila. I’m warning you.”

“Are you threatening me, Doctor Monrova?” Dresden asks. “Doctor Carpenter is as versed in matters of Gnosis R & D as you are. Genius you may be, but you are replaceable. Babel is not your castle, and Gnosis is not your kingdom.”

I hear a slamming noise. Approaching footsteps. I sink back into the shadows of a tall granite sculpture: a male figure, bent under the weight he carries. The Titan Atlas, with all the world on his shoulders.

The office door opens, and Dresden appears with a man in a dark suit by her side.

“I’ll see you at the board meeting,” she says.

She marches down the corridor, barking orders at Myriad. The door is still ajar and I peek inside. My father is leaning on his desk, palms flat to the glass. His hair is graying, and it looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Doctor Silas is beside him, just as haggard.

Grace is there, as always, taking notes on her palmglass. I wonder what she thinks, to be spoken of as a Thing. Her entire future is in jeopardy, and my father and the others were talking as if she weren’t even in the room.

“Nic, this isn’t the end,” Doctor Silas says softly. “We’ll get the lifelikes back online after shutdown. We’ll do it right. I’ll be there with you.”

“The Corporation constitution stipulates that seven days’ warning must be given before proposals on major projects are tabled,” my father says. “I still have time.”

“Watch your back, Nic. Lila isn’t one to trifle with.”

Father says nothing. Grace is as mute as the statue of Atlas beside me. Doctor Silas hangs silently for a moment, pats my father awkwardly on the shoulder.

“I’m your friend, Nic. Your family is my family. Never forget that.”

Doctor Silas limps toward the door, leaning on his walking stick. His face is pale and grim, his eyes clouded. As he leaves the office, he spots me in the shadows. Hiding there in the dark like a child. Like the helpless little girl I pretend not to be.

“Hello, kiddo,” he says.

“Doctor Silas,” I whisper. “I’m waiting for my father.”

He nods. Glances back into the room. “You didn’t hear all that, did you?”

“Not much,” I lie.

“I’m sorry about Raphael. I know you two were close.”

“… I’m sorry, too. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

He smiles, quoting the note from his old broken android. “Wishing about it won’t get it done, kiddo.” His smile fades, his expression growing serious. “Did Raphael seem strange to you recently? Did he say anything odd to you or Marie?”

“He seemed sad.”

The old man sucks his lip. Thoughtful.

“What about the other lifelikes? Have you seen any of them acting unusually?”

I think of Ezekiel, stealing me roses. Faith, asking me not to tell. Grace and Gabriel, wrapped in each other’s arms.

I still want what they have.

“No, Doctor Silas,” I say.

The man who isn’t my grandfather sighs.

“I’m sorry, Ana.”

And I know now.

I know as sure as I know the heart in my chest.

The breath in my lungs.

My name isn’t Eve… .



He comes to me in my room.

My note is in his hand and the moon is outside my window, choked behind the smoke and ashes of a world burned to cinders. The flowers he stole for me have long since dried inside the pages of my books, but their perfume hangs in the air like an unspoken promise. A promise of too-blue eyes and a crooked smile and lips I want to taste.

I open the door and I see him in the muted moonlight and I sigh at the sight of him. His skin seems aglow, like bronze from a forge. I wonder if he’ll burn me if I touch him.

No, not if.

When.

His eyes are red from crying. Raph was his brother, after all. But though the sorrow of my friend’s ending is raw and real, realer still is the thought that in seven days, Ezekiel might be taken away from me. That whatever lies between us now might soon be gone for good. I can’t let that happen without knowing.

I won’t.

I step toward him, my hands at my breast. He stands like a statue and there’s pain in his eyes, and I hurt all the worse because I know he’s hurting too.

“Raph … ,” he whispers.

I put my arms around him and press my cheek to his.