do.
“Ella,” Ms. White says carefully, “you went into your mother’s reverie. Into her mind .”
“And you can go into Belles’s,” PA Young continues. “You can find out who approached him, how deep the terrorist network goes. You have the potential to stop violence before it happens. We could try to trick the information out of him, or torture him, or anything else, but he could never be able to keep a secret from you , not when you were in his head .”
My eyes widen at the thought, and I swallow a lump rising in my throat. Ms. White moves behind me. “We need to do more testing, first,” Ms. White says firmly. “We have to make sure that Belles won’t know that Ella’s in his reverie, and we have to find a way to keep her safe.”
PA Young stares at Ms. White for a long moment, and for the first time I understand why people are afraid of her. Without speaking, she turns back to the glass wall and brings up another image—a video clip. She enlarges it so that it fills up the entire space, then turns around to watch me with cold eyes as it plays.
I choke back my surprise.
My father. He’s right there, in the lab on the screen. The audio’s low, but I can just make out what’s being said. Dad’s talking with a few of the other scientists about a lab assistant that was recently let go while they’re working on some sort of chemical compound. There’s an early prototype of a reverie chair in the background—Dad had been experimenting with the chairs’ functions to tap into android artificial intelligence.
Another man walks in. He looks nondescript—average height and build, wearing a lab coat—but everyone in the lab freezes. I see fear in my dad’s eyes.
The man who just walked in turns slowly in a circle, looking at each of the scientists in turn. Then his gaze meets the video cameras; he must have known exactly where it was. It’s not until his eyes meet mine that I realize—this isn’t a man.
It’s an android.
“This is a warning,” the android says.
And then it explodes.
The screen goes white.
Bile rises in my throat, and I look around urgently, certain that I’m going to vomit.
I just saw my father’s death.
Ms. White strokes my back, swiping my sweaty hair out of my face. “Really, Hwa, you didn’t have to show her that,” she says, glaring at the PA.
PA Young crouches in front of me, peering up at my face. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought you knew.”
“Of course I knew he was killed,” I snap. And I knew how. The casket for my father had been shorter than it needed to be; they were only able to salvage some of his body after the explosion. And while I had known it was terrorists who set off the bomb, I never knew anything more than a nebulous idea that it had been some faceless group.
I look up at the holographic image of Representative Belles.
“I need you to understand,” PA Young says. Her voice is gentle, but firm. “I need you to know just how dangerous a game we’re playing. Because…”
“No,” Ms. White’s voice cuts across the room.
PA Young looks up at her. “We have to.”
“What?” I ask.
“No,” Ms. White repeats. “It’s too dangerous. She’s just a little girl.”
“I already understand the danger,” I say in a hollow voice, not taking my eyes off PA Young. “I saw my father’s body, after. I understand.”
Some sort of communication flashes between Ms. White and PA Young. But Ms. White steps back, ducking her head.
“I was Secretary of War for the UC before I was elected as Prime Administer, you know.”
I do know. She was elected in a landslide; her work in ending the Secessionary War made her a cinch. She’s the first PA who saw battle, the first to be a war hero.
“I studied war; I lived it. The Secessionary War was unlike any other. The first to use androids in battle, the first with nanorobotic bombs. And of course, the death toll was higher than any other war in history. The thing you have to