Chapter 2

A searing pain tore through my throat. I opened my eyes to blinding fluorescent lights and a stark white ceiling.

An oxygen mask pressed against my face. My breathing came heavy and mechanical.

The ER doctor's furious voice pierced through the door: "Five more minutes and she would have asphyxiated! You knew about her severe allergy and you watched her eat an entire plate of macadamia nuts?"

"She wanted to eat them! We thought she was just being dramatic!" Reginald's defensive tone barely masked his guilt.

"Dramatic? Who the hell uses their own life as a bargaining chip? You people need serious help!"

The door swung open. Helen entered, eyes red-rimmed. She saw me awake and hurried to the bedside. "Melody, you're up? How are you feeling?"

I stared at the ceiling without turning my head.

"Melody, your mother is talking to you!" Helen's voice carried that familiar edge of impatience.

"I have not received a directive to speak."

Helen froze, her outstretched hand suspended in mid-air. "What... what are you saying? I'm your mother. When I ask you something, you answer!"

"'Asking' constitutes an interrogative sentence. Interrogative sentences do not qualify as valid directives. If you require a status report, please use imperative phrasing and specify the parameters."

Helen sucked in a sharp breath. She whipped around to face Reginald and Alex as they entered. "Reginald, she's not right. Something's really wrong with her. The way she's talking... like some customer service robot!"

Alex approached, looking down at me with contempt. "Drop the act, Melody. You think playing dead inside will make us feel guilty? You ate those nuts to embarrass us, didn't you?"

I looked at Alex, my gaze shifting to the IV line in my hand.

"Query: Is there currently a directive permitting me to remain in bed?"

Alex frowned. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Eden Protocol, Article Three: In the absence of explicit directives, designated units must maintain standing standby position and shall not consume any resources." As I spoke, I raised my left hand and gripped the needle in my right.

"What are you doing!" Helen shrieked.

I pulled the needle out without hesitation. Blood spurted immediately, running down my hand and dripping onto the white sheets.

I threw off the blanket and stood barefoot on the cold floor, spine rigid, arms pressed against my sides.

"You're insane!" Alex lunged forward, trying to push me back onto the bed, but I was stiff as iron.

"Without a directive, I cannot lie down. Please provide explicit instructions."

Reginald's face turned purple. His chest heaved as he pointed at the bed and roared, "I'm ordering you—get back in that bed right now!"

"Directive received." I turned immediately, lowered myself mechanically onto the bed, and closed my eyes. "Directive executed."

The room fell deathly silent. Only the heart monitor's monotonous beeping filled the void. I could feel all three of them standing by the bed, their breathing heavy and erratic.

They were finally beginning to understand that what had come back from that place was no longer the girl who used to fight and scream.

Three days later, they brought me home.

They tried to pretend everything was normal. Until the first night back, when Alex headed upstairs to bed and waved dismissively at me standing in the hallway:

"Melody, stay in the living room. Don't wander around being a nuisance."

He forgot to give me a "sleep mode" or "sit down" directive.

So I walked to the center of the living room, pressed my arms to my sides, and maintained perfect standby posture from midnight until seven in the morning.

When Helen descended the stairs in her robe and saw me standing in the morning light—bloodless, rigid as a statue—she screamed, her coffee mug shattering on the floor.

From that day on, they avoided being alone with me. To prove to the outside world that this family remained flawlessly perfect, Helen proceeded with the weekend party as planned.

It was Eve's "Two-Year Activation Anniversary." The house was festooned with balloons, a massive three-tiered fondant cake dominating the living room—a birthday for this family's "perfect little daughter."

No one remembered that today was also my birthday.

Three years ago today, security personnel had forced me into the car bound for Eden. I'd clawed at the door, begging Helen to let me have one bite of my birthday cake before they took me.

Helen had pried my fingers away in disgust. "When you learn to behave, you can have cake."

Now I'd learned to behave. But my cake would never come again.

Currently, I sat in gray loungewear at the edge of the living room, waiting.

Eve approached carrying a plate of sliced fondant cake and placed it on the small table before me.

"Melody, have something sweet. Alex specially ordered this." Eve's voice dripped with honey.

I didn't move. Without a directive, I could not eat.

Eve suddenly leaned close to my ear, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Stable heart rate, absent microexpressions, delayed pupil response. Your neural restructuring was quite thorough."

"However, human families don't need two perfect tools. My existence was meant to fill your vacancy. Now that you've returned, my algorithms indicate I must reduce your family weight."

I looked at her without any reaction.

I knew what she was. I'd seen similar technology at Eden—the kind designed to replace what they couldn't control.

Eve wasn't human. She was one of those AI companion robots on the market. Her skin was biosynthetic silicone, her tears algorithmically generated, her emotions computationally simulated.

She perfectly fulfilled Reginald's vanity for an academic heir and Helen's need for a controllable daughter.

"Crash!" Eve suddenly swept the cake onto the floor. Glass shattered across the living room.

She collapsed to the ground, clutching her wrist, tears instantly streaming down her face.

"Melody... why did you push me? I was only trying to give you cake..." Eve's voice trembled with wounded innocence.

Alex was first down the stairs. He took in the shattered glass and weeping Eve, his expression darkening immediately.

"Melody! What the hell is wrong with you now!" He pulled Eve up and positioned her protectively behind him, glaring at me.

I sat in the chair, maintaining perfect standby posture.

"I did not push her." A simple statement of fact.

"Still lying! I saw Eve fall right in front of you! You're jealous of her, aren't you? Jealous that she's better than you, jealous that she has Mom and Dad's love?"

Reginald and Helen rushed over. Taking in the scene, Reginald's fury reignited. "Melody, you've disappointed me beyond measure! I thought Eden cured your manic episodes, but you're still fundamentally broken!"

"Apologize! Apologize to Eve right now!" Alex shouted.

"I received no directive to 'push.' Therefore, I did not execute that action. The logic is invalid. I have no basis for apology."

"You're still using that bullshit to brush us off!"

Alex erupted completely. He grabbed my collar and yanked me from the chair. "Oh, you want directives? Here's one! Get outside and stand in the yard! Don't you dare move until I say so!"

Outside the window, a violent storm raged. Wind drove freezing rain against the glass.

"Alex, it's pouring out there," Helen offered a token protest.

"Let her go! She needs to learn who runs this house!" Reginald delivered his cold verdict.

"Directive received."

I pulled free from Alex's grip and walked toward the door.

Pushing it open, wind and rain engulfed me instantly. I walked to the center of the lawn, feet together, arms pressed to my sides, standing perfectly straight.

Freezing rain soaked through my clothes immediately. Cold cut to the bone. But I didn't shiver. In Eden's ice-water confinement cells, I'd stood for forty-eight hours straight.

The instructors there used to say: "Pain is your only perception. When you stop resisting even pain, you'll be perfect."

I stood in the downpour, eyes open, looking up at the second-floor window of the villa.

Eve stood behind the glass, smiling down at me. Behind her eyes, a faint blue glow pulsed—the telltale sign of active processing.