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“Can you convince them that the protocol here doesn’t impact them?” Olivia asked. “It doesn’t seem like this work poses a threat.”

“It’s a tiny town out there,” Dr. Oppyx said sadly. “And this is a huge facility. I’m not sure what will make this better, other than time. And now the rest of planet is starting to pick up on those concerns, and news crews are on the scene, which is only making things worse. People get do some drastic things when they think they have an audience.”

“You’ve got time, I guess,” Olivia said. “As long as the soldiers out there don’t escalate matters.”

“Heavens forbid that,” Dr. Oppyx said, tapping her chest once with her fist as if calling to her gods. “We would be better off with Oberon out there speaking with the people. The soldiers won’t have his self-control.”

“That’s one advantage he’s got,” Olivia agreed.

The doors clicked open, releasing a blast of chilling air. They headed down a set of metal stairs. A massive darkness opened in front of them.

“There are motion activated lights,” Dr. Oppyx said. “We have to keep it very cool in here, we don’t even like the heat from the lights when it’s unnecessary.”

Sure enough, a block of lights clicked on as they proceeded, triggering several more, until a whole corridor among the stacks was revealed.

“Incredible,” Olivia breathed.

“We’ve got plenty of space in here,” Dr. Oppyx said. “And enough raw materials to replace every part he’s got. But we can’t change his training.”

“Makes him more like a real person,” Olivia said softly as she looked around.

“Go ahead and make yourself at home,” Dr. Oppyx said. “I’m going to check in with a few of my staff.”

She headed back toward the stairs, and sat down as she pulled up her comms.

Olivia turned back to the whirring racks of machinery that were Oberon’s physical body. She wasn’t sure how much time she had, but she was going to make the best use of it she could.

17

STARK

Stark stood behind one of the tables filled with staff members, frowning as he watched the newsfeed that streamed from the disc at the center of the table.

He had paced until he could breathe calmly, and then come here to get informed about what was happening outside as best he could.

He’d already been on comms with his lead guy on site. But there wasn’t much to do but watch and wait.

On the feed, he could see that it was dark outside, like it was about to storm. But spotlights had been trained on the front lawn of the center. The tall grass moved like waves in the harsh wind. That ocean of grass was the only border between the center and the fence, behind which teems of protesters paced and yelled.

Stark could see his men in silhouette around the perimeter. Just as the team leader had assured him on comms, they were holding their line and still appeared to be completely relaxed. Staying calm in crisis was part oftheir training, but Stark knew hearts were beating fast and little things could shake a man who felt threatened.

He would have to rely on the rigorous wellness exams and training he had put them all through to get them through this situation. No matter how much he had cautioned them that the center wouldn’t hire him if they didn’t think they were in danger, each of his men seemed to think this was going to be a boring, cushy job.

Maybe after today they would reconsider.

The protesters’ backs were illuminated by the lights, but with the news crews behind them, he wasn’t able to see facial expressions - only hear their chants and watch them shaking fists and lifting signs and torches with barely repressed violence, hair and coats whipping in the wind.

This situation could change in a heartbeat.

“These citizens have gathered tonight to protest the Midsummer Fertility Center,”a reporter was saying in the holo.“We are told that here at this high-end, secretive lab, babies are conceived under the direction of an unsupervised artificial intelligence unit. Unlike government AI, this unit does not have to meet the rigorous standards of the Iverson Protocols. Sir, can you tell me why you’re here tonight?”

The camera panned to a golden Maltaffian carrying a sign that said, “My family won’tfeel safeuntil you have afailsafe!”

“It’s all on the sign,”he said, holding it closer to the camera.“That thing in there could turn on this town at any moment and there’s no remote override on it. Now they’ve got a private army out here and a mess of drones circling the skyat all hours. You don’t need drones to make babies. What are they really doing in there?”

Stark frowned. The man was right. It didn’t look good.

“Private entities aren’t subject to the Iverson Protocols,”the reporter was saying.

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