lurred the edges of his vision. He sat in the dark, the sprawling cityscape visible throug

ers embedded in his desk. It was supposed to be soothing, the on

, it wasn

ate patterns that usually unknotted the tens

, black marble of his desk, the

not wo

growl, cutting throu

what i

ectly modulated, impossibly smooth. "I am play

"It's weaker than last wee

fraction of a second too long. It was a calculated

, Mark. Perhaps the iss

it was a necessary evil. He jabbed a button on his console, and the face of Dr. Ev

e dripping with menace. "The qu

amera for a moment. "Mark, the extractions... the

he full extent of his fury. "I pay you for results. Her purpose is to generate data. If she's weakening, y

her voice barely a whisper. "Another session a

is a silent data-slave, a human algorithm generator. Her comfort is

arm, in that sterile white room. She knew Chloe was more than just a "source," b

slowly. "I

tting the connection

knew what his former partners, the Millers, had told him ten years ago. They had a daughter, a mute prodigy, a savant who coul

n was untreatable, debilitating. And Linda, his AI, had become his only solace, her voice, her m

. He never cared to. He just

they wer

n. The news of her adoptive parents' arrest for corporate espionage had reached her an hour ago on a sec

gea

a smear of blood from her mouth with the bac

ed from the speakers in his office. "I need you at your best. I

ttered, closing his eye

m was a lie, a facade built on the stolen