I spend the night by lamplight, rifling through Jisung's photographs. Each one has a story behind it, a memory I can't call back. What was I thinking in my graduation photos? Was I as excited as I looked or was it all a front? What did Jisung whisper in my ear that made me blush so red?

The last frame at the bottom of the box looks like it hasn't been touched in years. The photo is Jisung posing in front of a room of lab coats, holding a single ivory scale, the same kind that cover my back. I don't have to guess what he was thinking, his face says it all. This is the moment I've been waiting for.

I clear the pictures off the floor and store the box away in the closet. Jisung is still passed out on the couch, snoring into the crook of his elbow. I get to my feet, slide the door open and step out onto the balcony. It's nearly 13:00 hours, the sun is high over the skyline. The air smells like laundry detergent and hot asphalt.

Unauthorized Android within radius, genus unidentified.

I turn. There's an android on the roof behind Jisung's complex. It looks odd, a different colour than the droids I've seen before. Its eyes are fixed on me.

It abruptly spins on its heel and walks away. I climb onto the railing, take a leap and land on the roof. I run to grab its arm.

"Hey, stop — what the hell, were you watching me?"

"Unhand me, please."

"Answer the question. Why are you here?"

It blinks. The action is too swift, too smooth. It almost looks human.

Lightning fast, its foot rams into my gut, sends me wheeling backward to the ground. I push myself up and chase it to the edge of the roof — it jumps and plummets to the street below, straight through an open manhole.

I just stare, too shocked to move. My chance has passed within seconds. Pedestrians are clustering around the manhole.

I wander back across the roof, confused. This droid was unique. The ones walking the streets and working the shops are essentially animatronics; each move is robotic, machinelike, they're built to serve, not to act on their own. The way this one looked at me, like it was collecting data...

I climb onto the balcony and open the sliding door. The first thing I see is Jisung balled up on the couch, crying into his knees.

I automatically rush toward him. "What's wrong, what's wrong?"

He stares at me, red-eyed and runny-nosed. "You... oh... you're still here."

"Did you think I left?"

He rubs his hands over his face. "For Christ's sake, you should have." He jumps to his feet, shuffling away. "Taking a shower now."

The bathroom door slams behind him. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with this guy? I thought at least he'd be a little warm to me.

I slump onto the couch. I feel exhausted for the first time since I woke.

Eventually he reappears and heads straight for the coffee machine in the kitchen. His hair is flat over his eyes, glasses foggy with steam.

"We're just not gonna talk about it then?" I say.

"Talk about what?"

I sigh. "Never mind. Jisung, there was a droid earlier. It was watching me from the next building over."

"It was probably doing maintenance. They have to disclose their task if you ask."

"I did ask — it just randomly decided to fight me and run off. It jumped through a goddamn manhole and got away. There was something... off about it. It was too human."

He turns to me, eyebrows pinching together. "You mean the way it moved? Fast, fluid?"

"Yeah."

"What colour was it? Green-greyish?"

"Yeah, actually."

He starts messing with his hair, eyes wandering off. "No..."

He sits at the kitchen table and opens a holo-monitor. I walk over and lean on the back of his chair, watching the screen. I can't make heads or tails of it. His hands are a blur across the keyboard.

"Weird... weird," he murmurs. The monitor narrows into a keypad — Jisung dials a number. Equalizer bars flare as a voice speaks from the other end.

"Han? It's Sunday, what do you want?"

"Yeah, sorry. Look, I was checking on the lab's security system and I think there might be a glitch. It's telling me there's a whole other database that has nothing to do with me."

A silence and then a sigh.

"I shouldn't talk to you about this."

"Bandi, does it have something to do with the Espionage Initiative? Is that why you were transferred to the 79th floor?"

"Listen, just listen, okay?" The voice was already irritated, now it's nervous and stuttering. "We can't protect the miracle anymore. Powerful people want it and there's nothing to stop them from perverting it however they like."

"They'd really make you build a whole new database just to keep me from finding out?"

The voice laughs sharply. "Jesus Christ, Han, you're not the centre of the universe. Adrantine isn't your creation, you didn't come up with the compound, you don't own the patent — all you did was formulate the stabilizer. Oracle, the military, the damn government — they aren't conspiring against you."

"Then why was an Adrantine android outside my apartment?"

Another silence. "I... thought they were still in the preliminary stages..."

"What does Oracle know about me? Does it have something to do with Subject 17?"

"How am I supposed to know? You know how things work around here, we're just their little minions."

Jisung is chewing on his thumbnail, foot tapping on the floor.

The voice starts and stops, reluctant. "Han, why would it have to do with 17? Do you... know where it is now?"

"Of course I don't, it's bullshit."

"Then why was a droid outside your apartment?"

Jisung ends the call without another word. He stalls with his hands knotted in his hair, then gets up, walks past me to the closet and opens the door. I have too many questions, I don't know where to start.

He pulls out a suitcase and starts packing his scattered clothes.

"What are you doing?" I say.

"They know where I am and they know what I've done. I'm getting out of here."

"I thought you were gonna face the repercussions."

He looks up at me. I see rage in his eyes, a rage to mirror my own.

"Oracle, the people in control... they stole my miracle. They stole you. After everything, they've been lying to me. Who would I be if I did nothing — just some fucking coward who let myself be used, who... who's never done shit for the greater good, who's only caused pain for everyone? I won't, I can't. I'm going to make them pay."

"You're gonna make them pay? How?"

"I... don't know yet. That's not the point."

I hold my face in my hands. "Okay okay, hold on, I have questions. Who did you call before? Were they from the lab?"

"Jai Bandi, a colleague, a... friend from college. He was transferred to another floor a few months ago. I called him because I knew that if Oracle had a database I couldn't access, he would know about it."

"Does this mean they're hiding something? Does it have to do with the droid that was watching me?"

"That android is part of a project called the Bionic Espionage Initiative. It was pitched as a sister project to Bionic Warfare. The difference is that the robots made by the BWI are cyborgs, but the BEI would make pure machines, augmented Adrantine weapons in droid's clothing. I didn't know they were carrying it out, probably because I was one of the scientists most outspoken against it."

"Why did you speak out?"

"Adrantine androids were conceptualized for the express reason of espionage, spying. They'd have the capability to transmit live footage as they'd be bionic — comprised of both biological and mechanical components, making them robotic but intelligent, human-ish — while still giving off no infrared signatures. They'd be perfect for covert surveillance operations."

"The one I met wasn't very good at it."

"Like Jai said, they're probably still in preliminary stages. The problem with them is their disposability. Spies are often discovered and eliminated, especially when they're automated. Trying to destroy a substance like Adrantine is unbelievably harmful to the environment. One unit is equivalent to 10 years of incineration — dioxins, furans, Adrantine is worse than any of it."

I hold my hand out. "This is toxic?"

"Only when subjected to intense heat and left to leach into the ground. Some of my colleagues and I issued a statement that we'd only back the BWI if the Adrantine droids never came to fruition. At least cyborg bodies wouldn't be routinely disposed of on suicide missions. Now I feel naive for taking Oracle at their word."

"So the lab created a secret database inside a secret database to keep more secrets. What about the hard copies in the file room?"

"You know about those?"

"I took a pitstop."

"The file room is the unabridged database. If the security system is ever breached and all the virtual data has to be erased, physical copies would still exist. Though Oracle's tech is top grade, manual storage will always be most secure."

"What if the virtual system was hacked?"

"Impossible. It's programmed to self-destruct before anything is leaked."

"Then how were you able to bypass it?"

"I built the system. I... gave myself some leg room. Just in case."

"So you're like a criminal mastermind or something."

He blows out a breath, kind of a laugh. He keeps packing while I stand by.

"So, what? Where are you gonna go now?"

"Into hiding. Hotels, motels, whatever."

I steel myself. He's not going to like this. "I want to come with you. I want to help you take down Oracle."

"Jesus Christ — look, I know you must be angry, but I did all of this, everything, so you would have a second chance. Why can't you just accept it?"

"You said it yourself — I'm not gonna up and run away like a fucking coward. And I... I don't want to leave you. They have droids with semi-autonomy and cyborgs who can do all the same crazy shit I can. If I leave now you'll be unprotected."

His jaw is clenched tight, eyes cast down. He draws his legs to his chest, looking small.

"You don't even know me," he murmurs. "All you know is that I got you killed. I didn't love you — him, Minho, whatever — the way I should have, not... enough."

I shift to the floor as well. "I think you're pretending to know me. You don't. I don't either. I'm just going with how I feel, and I... I feel like I need to stay with you. I dunno. Maybe it's instinctive. Like muscle memory."

He's staring at me. I don't return it. His eyes have that tender look. That look is a killer.

"Besides," I say, "you're kind of the only proof that I ever existed at all."

"It must be... difficult."

"Well. Yeah. At least I'm not alone now."

We sit in silence for a moment more. Then he gets up, rummages around in the closet and comes back with a duffel bag.

"That drawer over there was Minho's. Pack everything. We should go as soon as we can."

My lips twitch up. An actual smile. "Thanks."

He returns it, reluctant, like he's afraid it might hurt. "Okay... Minho."