vN The First Machine Dynasty(70)

"How do I get rid of her memories?"



"Years of cognitive therapy," Dr Sarton said. "If it were my project, you would play more games until Portia's memories could be isolated by carbon microscopy, and then we'd do controlled electroshock to erase those sectors. It would only take a few volts; writing and unwriting graphene takes a tiny amount of energy. But it would take a long time to find and clean each surface. Also, we don't know if she's set up mirror surfaces inside you. She may have cloned specific memories already. We wouldn't know until we started the cleanup."



He gestured at the map. "But that's only if it were my project, and right now it can't be. I'm on some pretty serious watch lists because of my connection to my uncle. That means I can't buy the right equipment to help you."



"Not without bringing a lot of unwanted attention on himself," Atsuko added.



Sarton nodded. He flicked the map of Amy's mind off the display, and ushered in another image. This was a real city – the gridlines were too rigid for it to be anything else. "That's why I've worked with Rory to secure you a position in Mecha."



What did he just say?



"Excuse me?" Amy looked from the map to Javier to Sarton. "Mecha?"



"I'm assuming you know where it is, but if you don't, I can explain–"



"I know where it is," Amy said. "I also know it's almost impossible to get a visa there, even when you're not wanted by the police. What's the catch?"



"The rules are different in Mecha. The human population is always kept at a minimum, so you're less of a danger there. An organization of professional roboticists is sponsoring your Mechanese visa. They can do that for vN they find particularly intriguing, and naturally you qualify. But you would still have to keep Portia under control, and you would have to find work there within three months. What that probably means is either selling the rights to your life to a content delivery platform, or agreeing to become the subject of research. The latter option is how you might get rid of Portia."



It won't be that easy. I won't let it be.



Amy looked at the office surrounding them. She thought of the water separating her from the light at the surface. She thought of the city slowly crumbling into it, brick by brick. She thought about her dad. Leaving the country would mean leaving him behind. But after what had happened to her mother, perhaps that was best. "I'd have to spend a few years there?"



"It's much safer there than anywhere else. And the doctors there really know what they're doing." He hunched over in his chair. "Don't look so glum! It's great over there! You could have your own place, make new friends, do anything you want."



"Except leave," Javier said.



"With respect, Javier, it's not your decision," Dr Sarton said. "Besides, Amy, do you want to be on the run forever? Wouldn't you rather try to help yourself get better, and get your life back?"



Amy looked at her hands. Get her life back? Her life as she knew it had ended the moment she decided to run up to that stage and attack Portia. It had ended the moment she escaped from the truck with Javier. It had ended when she ventured to the garbage dump to help him, and ended again the moment she decided that Junior was more important. It ended with Harold's fragile human wrists clenched in her titanium grasp. She could chart these moments in her life like points on the map of Mecha, as she wandered further and further away from the plans her parents had laid out and the dreams they must have had. It was unreachably far, now. Her mother was dead. Amy would never get that life back.



"It's a very generous offer. Thank you. I'll think about it." She looked up. "But what about the failsafe? When they erase Portia, will I still have the flaw?"



The hope evaporated from Dr Sarton's face. He looked at Atsuko. "Darling? Could you please let us discuss this in private?"



Atsuko gave Amy and Javier what she must have thought was a gracious smile before she left. "I'll be just outside."



When the door closed behind her, Sarton spoke up. "The answer is that I'm not sure. To be honest, I'm not even sure that you inherited the breakage from your grandmother."



If this were a fairy tale, this would be the moment when the wise old wizard tells you that you were a magical princess all along, Amy thought.



He pulled up another image, this one taken directly from a feed. The vague shape of human heads filled the display. They blurred, corrected themselves, resolved into children's bored faces. The camera drifted over all of them, before settling on a fat little girl with straight brown hair and red cheeks. Britt, her name was. Amy remembered her. She never did her worksheets and she was always yelling. Now Britt caught sight of the camera. She crossed her arms and looked away. She rocked back and forth in her chair aggressively, practically throwing herself against the chair as her legs swung out and back, out and back. She was kicking the leg of someone else's chair; Amy heard the tiny ting it made ringing through the hubbub of shrill momspeak.