Page 10 of Time Stops With You

“My parents are dead and Sullivan will move on to another coding genius the moment I lose my value to his company. I’m sure you’re great with delusional patients, Mr. Sullivan, but I assure you that I am not one of them.”

Hastings pops an eyebrow, like maybe he expected something else from me. I don’t know what. I still don’t know why he’s even here, what he even hoped to accomplish.

I gesture to the door, silently nudging him out.

He pushes the door open and then lets it slam shut. Swiveling, he stares me head-on. “What about legacy?”

Legacy?

“We’re all only on this planet for a short time, but have you considered what you’re preparing to leave behind? A business can be bought or sold. Technology can become obsolete. People?—”

“I know what you’re trying to say.”

“And?”

I clear my throat. “I do have a plan for that.”

“I’m not just talking about donating all your money to charity when you’re gone,” Hastings points out and I wonder if he read my mind. “I’m talking about someone who can accept your baton and run with it. Someone who’ll impact the world long after you’re gone because you impactedthem.Do you have a legacy like that?”

No. Definitely not.

And I’ve never been interested before.

But now…

I think about the interrupted simulation and the ‘HELLO WORLD’ hidden deep beneath my code.

Do you have a legacy like that?

“Not currently,” I say. “But I will very soon.”

My phone chirps.

Asad sent a text message. It’s just words on a screen, but I can still hear his voice dripping with disbelief.

ASAD:He took it. The hacker took the bait.

The next message is an IP address.

A slow, knowing smile builds, tugging at my lips. Shoving the phone in my pocket, I look up at Darrel Hastings and say, “Now, if you’ll excuse me… my legacy is waiting.”

Two

NARDI

“I left a plate of rice and beans and oxtail on the stove for you.” I plant one hand against the doorway and balance myself, stuffing my feet into my broken-in sneakers. The shoes are so worn that they’re practically moldable, and I no longer need to bend down to untie the lacings.

Silence echoes behind me, but I keep speaking.

“Remember toput down your phonewhen you’re dealing with the stove or the microwave. We can’t have a repeat of last time.”

Still nothing. I might as well be talking to thin air.

“The building manager only backed down because the smoke alarms weren’t up to code. If they were, we would have been kicked out. I already have to pay back the damage from the sprinklers.”

Booming quiet is my only response.

I throw my jet-black hair behind my shoulder and spin around. My little brother, Josiah, is sitting cross-legged on thecouch, doing what he does for about ninety percent of his day—play on his phone.

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