"I don't know what he's capable of," Maven says. "More than I thought, apparently."

"Can you tell him I want to talk?" I ask.

"You're the only one who can communicate with him." A soft snort of disgust tacks itself to the end of her sentence, and I frown into the darkness.

I sigh, trying not to sound too frustrated. "Well what do I do?" I don't know how to get Darwin's attention.

"Be a machine?" Maven suggests with a bite to her voice. "I don't know. I told you to accept it. It's easier for everyone that way."

"Ronnie," Davis interrupts from behind me.

I turn around, and he bites his lip. He holds his hands out in front of him, palms out, fingers spread in a calming gesture.

"I'm not going to tell you not to do it," he says. "But please, just think about it for a second."

"I am thinking about it." I motion past Ruby, in the direction of Darwin's cell. "You're going to die. I'm not exaggerating. If you don't get hypothermia then you're going to starve. Darwin is the only one capable of escaping."

"Darwin is incapacitated."

"Physically, yes," I agree. "But he's still in there."

"And very hostile, if you were any indication earlier," Davis adds. "With the—red eyes...." He points toward my face.

I squint at him.

"I mean, your eyes, they...flickered."

I turn away, imagining what he must have seen as I swung at him. The tint that coated the world as my fist landed on Davis's face...it came from Darwin's eyes. It's what I've been seeing this whole time.

"That's it," I breathe.

"What's it?"

"I need to look him in the eyes." I speak loudly enough for Maven to hear. I realize the impossibility of the request, but its urgency brings me to the front of our cell again, straining against it until the bars dig into my front. "Please. We need Darwin."

I listen desperately to the silence, willing her to say something, to at least try. In Darwin's absence, she must be their leader. The oldest living android. They'll listen to her, and we need all of them to help if we're going to escape.

"Ada," she finally says, quiet enough that I almost don't hear. I can barely make out her profile in the dim light; she stares across the aisle, and I hear shuffling from our row of cells. Then huffing, the slight reverberation of shaking metal, and a grunt.

A woman sighs, "I can barely reach."

"Try harder," Maven suggests coldly.

The second woman's voice drops to a whisper, but it still echoes its way to us in the roomy, bare basement. "Do you really trust them?"

"I trust Darwin," Maven hisses back. "And that was him. I know him. Just do it."

I listen to the scuffle in the dimness, my eyes locking with Davis's. I resist the urge to look away and question everything. My lips still tingle where his landed, a ghost of a possibility. I want to put voice to it, but I'm afraid to ask what it meant.

We both jump as a large thump jolts the prison's thick air. "Good enough?" Ada grunts.

"It'll have to do."

I finally look away from Davis at Maven's declaration. Peering through the rows of bars, I can barely see a shadowy lump on the ground that must be Darwin. It doesn't move, but every once in a while, I see the tiniest blip of red. His chest is flush with the ground, his head turned at a right angle so that he stares blankly in our direction.

My knees tremble as I crouch, and I settle them on the floor. My palms are next, and then I hesitate. What if Darwin is uncontrollable? What if, like the last time, he zeroes in on Davis? There's nowhere to run from me, no one capable of interfering if I hurt him.

Maven said that all the later models have programs to prevent them from killing. That means I do, but Darwin doesn't. Whose wins out if he's taking over my mind?

Davis's hand slips over mine, warming the back as my palm presses against the cold floor. He kneels beside me, and as I look up at him, he nods.

"I trust you," he says.

I swallow hard. I want to ask why, but I can't force the words past my lips. His fingers curl around my palm, squeezing tightly, and I dig my own into the concrete. Then I lean down, inching closer to the floor. My cheek scrapes the cool, rough surface, and I anchor myself to Davis's warmth as I search the space between the bars for Darwin's eyes.

I zero in on the faded, blinking crimson. I can't make out his irises, not even the whites of his eyes, but I stare toward the glow and hope it's enough.

"Come on," I whisper, starting to lose hope.

And then I feel a familiar tide rising behind my belly button, a vortex of waves that swells toward my heart and sends it galloping. I feel its iron fist close around me, enclosing me in a bubble of simultaneous nothingness and rage.

I sit up abruptly, my spine stiff. The smell of the air has changed; where once it felt stale, now it feels fresh as I inhale it like someone who has not breathed in years. I let it fill my lungs, listening to the rhythm of my heart as it settles into a steady thump against my chest.

My eyes settle on Davis, and I become aware of the scarlet overlay behind which the world hides. He must see it, but he doesn't flinch away. He squeezes my hand, and for a moment, the twisting, turbulent waters inside fade to a ripple.

As if she knows Darwin has taken over, Maven speaks up. "We need to get out."

My head snaps toward her voice. "I've told you before, it's not possible."

The words feel foreign on my tongue, but they're in my voice. He speaks from within me, and as he does I see flashes of the past: A battered, bent cell door falling from its hinges; a taste of freedom, like a hint of sea salt in the air of a smoggy city; a team of men in body armor pouring through the entrance; and then myself, falling to the floor under the voltage of a crippling jolt of electricity.

"Darwin, please," Maven says.

He carries my feet to the front of the cell, and I lean against the bars again, trying to see her.

"I can't," I repeat, this time softer.

"If they can get us out...."

"They can't." My statement is final.

"Darwin, I can't"—I hear a clang as the bars of her cell jerk violently—"I can't keep staring at you like that, all day, every day. It never ends." She draws a deep, shuddering breath. "It will never end. You know that, god, you know better than anyone. Immortality is a curse. Because I—"

Her voice breaks, and the dim light overhead glistens on her face, hinting at tears that I can't quite see from here. My hand twitches, itching to wipe them away, but she's too far, and I only feel the squeeze of Davis's hand against mine.

"I can't take it anymore. I miss you. I miss your voice. And I know it's you in there, but it's not enough. I want to hear you."

I hear a catch of breath, the perfect replica of a human sob. The fire inside me flares, sending everything to a rolling boil as she leans her forehead against the bars and whispers, "I want to feel you."

I remember the curve of her face under my hands earlier, the way it had calmed the raging storm inside. The smooth angles of her cheekbones against my skin. Her eyes, searching mine from inches away instead of yards.

I want that too. Or he does.

I let go of Davis, casting him aside in my mind as well. Maven fills the hollow space between my circuits, winding her way down from my mind to meet the chaotic rhythm of my heart. My eyes dart left and right, and I spin on the spot as I scan my surroundings.

I zero in on the ring on the floor outside the cell, left behind from Sven's departure. I see myself throwing it at him as if I'm watching a movie of someone else's life; it doesn't matter how it got there, only what it can do.

I crouch down and reach through the bars. My arm falls several inches short, no matter how hard I press my shoulder into the metal. I grunt, wondering how much it will take to pop my shoulder through the small gap, or if my body will fall apart first. I grimace as I struggle, gasping at the pain as the bars squeeze me tight.

"Stop."

Davis approaches, arms out as if to pull me away, and I kick at him. One shoe catches him squarely in the chest, but he keeps his balance as he stumbles back, raising his hands.

"I'll get it for you," he offers, looking like a mediator trying to negotiate a hostage situation. "I have longer arms. I can reach."

I sneer at him, the disparaging word "human" teetering on my lips.

"Ronnie," he murmurs, almost a plea.

I freeze, my legs poised for another jab. Something underneath the layer of Darwin that's settled over me stirs. I stir.

With shallow breaths, I sit up. I back away, my movements stiff, as if my own body is fighting me. I still feel the turmoil that hints at Darwin's presence, but I see Davis now. I trust him.

He lays flat on his side and reaches for the ring, stretching for a moment before his long fingers finally snag it. It clatters closer, and I bend down to snatch it before he can.

Maybe I don't trust him completely. Darwin is still in there, after all.

As I think it, he rises strong again. The ring—a ring that he never had, a ring that he once desired as his whole life's purpose—digs a cold circle into my palm as I squeeze it until my knuckles turn white. The unfairness of it flashes through my memory like a skipping record. The everything that Darwin gave. The breakfasts in bed, and the little kisses in stolen corners of public places, and the spontaneous lunch sessions around Sven's desk when he was too busy to get away from work, and the simmering years of wonder at why it wasn't enough.

I snarl and dig my fingernails into the ring. I recognize it; in my memory, I see it, or a smaller version of it, on a much slimmer finger. I see shimmering waves of blond hair as the woman wearing it convulses on the floor, the diamond zipping with electricity.

It's how Sven works. Even his gifts are safeguards against us, the very ones he claims to love. I uncurl my fingers and start tearing at the stone that once meant eternity to me. Its perfectly cut edges slice the pads of my fingers in my zealousness, but I ignore the red that starts to stain its surface. It's not actual blood. The pricks of pain that I feel aren't real. The response they elicit is only a simulation of a human reaction. I tamp it down, but can't hold down a guttural scream as I twist and pull, digging more scrapes into my index finger.

"Ronnie, stop!"

Davis's hands land on my arms, trying to pry them apart, but I struggle away from him.

"Ronnie, stop, you're hurting yourself!"

I bellow meaningless sounds at the ceiling, forcing my fingernails under the prongs that hold the stone in place. I feel the nails bend under the pressure, and the sensation makes me want to curl into myself and press them as close against me as I can, but I persist. I will not be stopped.

Just as Davis steps forward for another try, the stone finally pops off its mounting, clattering away across the floor. I ignore it, holding up the silver band instead. Two frayed wires poke out, one black and one gray.

I wipe the slippery, blood-like substance from the ends of my fingers. Part of me—a deeply-buried part—freezes internally at the sight of cuts deep enough to reveal metal underneath. Here is undeniable proof of what I am, and I want to look at Davis and see his shock, or disgust. But Darwin has control, and his focus is singular.

I understand what Maven meant when she said he was superior. Calculations pass through my mind like the headlights of a speeding car—I blink, and all that's left is an elongated imprint on the inside of my eyelids, and Darwin is already onto the next thing. Sweat breaks out on my brow, pushing waves of clammy heat down my neck as his speed overwhelms me. I feel the labor of my lungs against my ribcage, but my breaths are Darwin's breaths now, and he ignores them.

I hear Davis mumbling at me to please stop, that I'm overloading my own system, but the sound travels to me as if we're all underwater. Muffled, unintelligible, just out of reach. Darwin swings my arm, testing the strength and motion of my unfamiliar body. Then, my breath stops for half a second, and in one swift motion, I twist the tips of the two wires together and toss it toward the control panel on the wall opposite our cell.

For a moment, nothing happens. The dismembered ring twirls through the air, the exposed wires throwing tiny sparks to illuminate its trajectory. Darwin's processor, capable of perceiving input faster than mine, creates the illusion of slow motion as the ring collides perfectly with the panel, and a tiny plume of smoke erupts from its impact.

I turn to Davis in the instant before it turns into a full-fledged explosion. He looks frozen, watching the ring with rapt attention, but his eyes slowly find their way to me.

"Get out," I croak, and then everything happens at once.

Orange flames blast from the control panel, throwing me unceremoniously to the ground. The impact jars me, and when I blink, I'm alone inside my body, watching as smoke and flames begin to envelop the basement.