Dr Sarton made a hook with one finger and pulled it to the right. The footage sped up. Amy watched her whole class stand up and dance. She watched her teacher get up and speak. At this speed, her constant swaying made her look like a toy hula dancer on somebody's dashboard. Then something blurred across the screen. Portia. Dr Sarton pulled his finger-hook sharply to the left, then released it. The footage reversed, then returned to normal speed. Portia hopped onstage. She beckoned to Amy. Amy refused. Then Nate tripped Portia.
"Close your eyes, Javier," Dr Sarton said.
But you're not a magical princess. You don't have the power to spin straw into gold. You have the power to kill human beings, Amy thought.
Portia picked Nate up by the ankle. The screaming started. His body flew and the camera followed it. It spun, his limbs flailing and his little hands grasping at empty air, and he landed on his head, the neck snapping and blood streaking across the floor as he skidded to a stop. The camera's view hit the floor. It jarred across tipping chairs and hurrying feet. Then it rose, first high to the ceiling and then down again, to the stage, where Amy's mother rocketed up to the piano.
Dr Sarton made a "time" gesture, the fingers of one hand intersecting with the other palm. The footage paused. Then he hooked the footage left again. He froze it in place. "BR-82."
The rest of the footage floated away, scattering like leaves in a breeze. Only a single image remained: Amy's watchful face, turned away from the stage and toward the audience. "Do you remember what you were looking at?" Dr Sarton asked.
Amy shook her head. "No."
Yes, you do.
"I only looked at Nate after I ate Portia," Amy said. "My failsafe still worked then; I didn't watch the grown-up human channels, I didn't play anything that was too violent or too real, my parents wouldn't let me."
"Exactly," Dr Sarton said. "Your parents wouldn't let you. So how would you have known?"
Amy backed away from the display. "Fine. If you're so sure, find my memory of that night. See if I really saw what you think I saw."
"You know I can't do that, Amy." He stood up. "And you should know that even if I could fix you – which I can't – I wouldn't. It would be wrong. It would be like destroying a masterpiece."
"What?" Amy's fists tightened. "This isn't a masterpiece, it's an accident. And it's hurt way too many people."
Dr Sarton's eyes played over her. "You ate your grandmother," he said. "Why did you do that?"
"Because! She was…"
Amy paused. Why had she done it, really? She hadn't paused to think about it in the moment. Her feet had started moving and she had known what to do. There had been no doubt in her mind that it was the right thing. She knew now that it was a mistake – a huge, epic, terrible mistake that had destroyed the lives of too many people, organic and synthetic both. But in the beginning, she had just been trying to help.
We all know what happens when you try to help.
"I did it because Portia was hurting people," Amy said.
"Hurting people, or hurting your mother?" Dr Sarton stood. "You didn't tell the people to run, Amy. You didn't stand between Portia and your father. You ran right up those stairs and you pounced on the woman who was hurting your mother."
"She killed Nate! She was going to kill my mom!"
"Did she have any peroxidase with her? Did she have a taser?"
"No, but–"
"Did your mother look like she was in pain? Had she suddenly gained the ability to suffer, while you were busy accepting your little diploma?"
"I don't know! But I couldn't just let Portia keep hitting her, she was my mom, and I loved her–"
"Yes! Exactly!" Dr Sarton snapped his fingers and grabbed her by the shoulders. "You loved her. You loved her more than you loved anybody else in that room. More than your friends or your teacher or even your father. You chose your mother, your fellow robot, over them."
Sarton seemed to remember who exactly he was touching. He let go, and pulled his smoking jacket a little tighter around himself. "Don't you know how special that is?" He swallowed. "People have been working for years to bring your gifts to life. Since the very moment the failsafe was conceived of, humans have wanted to see how it might fail. If you knew the patents I had to wade through, the otaku braggart bullshit, the fanboys and fangirls who had claimed to have hacked your clade–"
"People wanted this to happen?" She didn't want Portia to be right about this, too. "You wanted this to happen?" Amy asked.