Chapter 2
The hum of the computer tower sounded like a swarm of flies buzzing around my ears. My office was tiny and suffocating, and the air smelled like formaldehyde mixed with cheap instant coffee.
On the screen, an encrypted file packet was being brute-forced open. The progress bar crawled forward like a dying worm.
My fingers were freezing cold, but my palms were soaked with sweat.
The connection to the "interface" on Richard Lane's body lasted only three seconds before the input device automatically disconnected because of some unknown protocol conflict. But those three seconds were enough. I had already downloaded the file packet.
I stared at the screen so hard my eyes hurt. My heart pounded against my ribs like it was trying to smash its way out. I didn't know what I was hoping for, or what I was afraid of. I only knew the truth was inside that file, and I might not have the guts to face it.
Ding.
A soft chime sounded, and the progress bar hit the end. The file was open.
A list titled [High-Value Asset Registry] sat quietly in the middle of the screen.
My trembling hand clicked it open.
Face after familiar face popped up, each one paired with detailed personal data. Rising stars, A-list celebrities, top scientists... all of them were on it, categorized like livestock up for sale.
Every name had a status bar beside it.
[Under Observation]
[Pending Optimization]
[Value Stable]
My breathing got faster and faster, like an invisible hand was squeezing my lungs shut. These people, these so-called elites, were just "assets" being watched and evaluated. The whole world was one giant ranch, and we were nothing but cattle to whoever owned it.
My finger rested on the scroll wheel, but it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I was scared to scroll down. I was terrified I'd see the one name I least wanted to find. But some sick, self-destructive urge pushed me forward anyway.
I scrolled down.
Rows of names slid past.
Finally, I reached the bottom of the list.
My pupils shrank, and all the blood in my body seemed to freeze solid.
"Eva Lane."
Her name was right there. Beside it was her ID photo. She wore that slight smile, with those clear eyes I knew better than anything. I'd kissed that face more times than I could count, but now looking at it sent a chill straight through my bones.
Below the photo was her full data profile.
[Name: Eva Lane]
[Height: 5.5 feet]
[Weight: 112 pounds]
[Measurements: 35-24-35]
[Cycle Length: 28 days, margin of error 0.5%]
Line after line, column after column, the data was precise down to two decimal places. The body I knew best, the one I'd held in my arms, had been broken down into strings of cold numbers.
My mind went blank. All I could hear was my own ragged breathing. The girl who made me breakfast every morning, who hugged me when I was tired, who softly told me she loved me... who the hell was she? Were all those tender, private moments between us just data too, logged and analyzed by some machine?
My eyes locked onto the final entry.
[Initial Value: 230 million dollars]
The number was so absurd it was almost funny.
But the status line right after it shoved me straight into a bottomless pit.
[Status: Value Fluctuation Detected, Recovery Program Initiated]
Recovery... program?
Those two words exploded inside my skull. Every letter felt like red-hot iron branding my soul. Recovery was something used for junk, for trash, for objects that had outlived their use.
What the hell did it mean when that word was used on a living person, on my Eva?