45

Chase grabbed a chair and pulled it to the table for Mel, and he sat beside her. “Get yourself a chair and sit down, you big jerk,” he said to Switchblade as he let a chuckle slide out. “We’ve got to figure out how to get Sparky back where he belongs.”

Switchblade nearly smiled—a rare site from what Chase had witnessed the past few days. “That’s what I’m talking about. What do you do now, Melody? You need anything? Wires or pliers or something?”

“Pliers?” Chase asked. “What do you think she’d do with pliers?”

“I don’t know—you’re the robot.”

“Well, I don’t have any parts that require anything from a tool box, Switchblade.”

“You boys keep it down,” Mel said. “I can’t think.”

“Sorry,” Chase said. “Type in thirty-one, eight and see what happens.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Switchblade said. “What’s thirty-one, eight?”

“Safe travel,” Chase told him. “Mel? Anything?”

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“Let me try.” Chase reached for the computer and pulled it across the table. “When I was traveling, I asked the exoself to give me some instructions, and it did.” He put his hands on the keys and began typing, Mel and Switchblade behind him.

CHASE STERLING REQUESTING REINSTALLATION INSTRUCTIONS

Nothing.

RESTORE CYBER CONNECTION

“This is a waste of time,” Switchblade said.

HEY, OLD FRIEND. I NEED SOME INSTRUCTIONS. GIVE ME SOMETHING.

The code on the screen mushroomed from a short list of numbers to a full page display of binary code. Chase touched the screen as the code scrolled down. His eyes drank it in. Even his fingertips seemed to take in the information he couldn’t interpret. The processors in his back and arms surged.

“I need to lie down.” He rose from the chair and stumbled to the bed.

“Chase, is this thing hurting you?” Mel knelt on the floor next to him as he dropped to his back. “I’m turning it off.”

“No,” he said. “Robert was able to reactivate the exoself in an orderly fashion. Now it’s just all rushing in at once. But don’t try to stop it. It’s coming back.”

“Don’t want the thing to take you down or nothing,” Switchblade said. “I didn’t mean to push so hard for you to do this.”

The rush that Chase knew as the signature of the exoself seemed to slow. “Give it to me. I need to look at the code. I don’t know what I’m looking at, but I think my eyes do.”

“Chase, are you sure?” Mel asked.

He reached for her hand. “I’m fine.” Sweat beaded on his upper lip. Other than that, and the lethargy that had overtaken him, his physical condition hadn’t altered. He could count the beats of his heart. He knew his blood pressure and temperature. They were forever constant.

“Quickly, Mel. Give me the laptop.”

Before she could stand, Switchblade handed her the computer. She placed it on Chase’s stomach, the screen facing him. He lifted his head a little, and Mel folded the pillow underneath him so he could look at the scrolling code. The inner clock worked again. For three minutes, thirty-four seconds, he didn’t blink. And it all came back.

Every branch of the Underground Church lined up in a sea of information organized by the four S’s. The secret communication of the WR opened to his manipulation. Intel of arrests, of stake-outs, growing detention center population, and the increasing number of people dropping off the grid of WR support programs filled his mind. He checked the reports from the underground against the files of the WR. No base of operations had been flushed out. At least not since those of a few days ago. Chase hadn’t missed too much, and the exoself filled him in on what had gone down during their separation.

He exhaled a groan.

“Chase, that’s enough,” Mel said. “I’m turning this thing off.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he told her. “It’s done. The exoself is back where it belongs.”

Before he’d finished the sentence, the computer screen went black. Then a spark shot out and a whiff of smoke rose into the air.

Switchblade grabbed the laptop and dropped it on the table. He waved his hand over it as if that would stop the smoke. Then he slammed the lid shut. “I think it was too much for the old thing.”

Chase sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I told Finley we’d get her stuff moved to another computer.”

Mel raked her fingers through his hair. “Too late for that. She’ll understand. All that matters is you’re OK. You are, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Don’t think I’m quite ready bend a metal pole, and I don’t know if I can see in the dark. Other than that, seems everything is in good working order.”

“Hallelujah,” Switchblade said.

Then a flash of code appeared from the corner of Chase’s eye. It danced and curved until it began to take the form of a human.

Chase wouldn’t allow this. That phantom would not haunt him again. He jumped off the bed, grabbed a chair, and threw it at the corner of the room.

Mel let out a quick scream. “Chase, what is it?”

Switchblade took Chase by the arms and tried to sit him down on the bed, but Chase sent him flying into the wall. The upper body strength was back.

“I will not accept this!” he yelled at the code replicating in the corner. “Get out of here!”

Then he dropped to the bed and breathed out a heavy sigh. He swiped his hands over the top of his head.

“Oh, God, thank you,” he said. “Robert.”