"Nothing was left but an absence."
The waterfall wasn't loud enough to drown out my thoughts. But it was a start. I found myself a wide, flat rock near the bank, a few feet from where the water plunged over the edge. The place looked different in the light. For one thing, you could see the bottom clearly. Which made it look even farther away. Beyond the rumbling white water, the river ribboned out flat and calm again, but not for long. There was another precipice, another plunge, another fall. From where I sat, I couldn't see whether it was as long or as deep; the river just dropped away. I took a pic-not of the second waterfall, but of the empty space beyond the river, the air where there should have been land. It was crap-a little crooked, like I'd tried an artistic shot and failed miserably when, in fact, I just hadn't cared enough to steady the lens. I posted it to my new zone anyway. Anything to fill up the empty space.
A mist rose from the gushing water. I was tempted to stand by the edge, wave my hand through the dewy cloud, but that seemed too close. I might have fallen in; I might have jumped. I stayed where I was, watching the water, trying not to think about Auden and Walker, and especially not about Zo.
But I couldn't help hoping that one of them might voice me to apologize, to tell me I'd misunderstood and the whole thing was a hideous mistake. One hour passed, then two. No one did.
"You probably shouldn't jump in the daylight. Too easy to get caught." Like the waterfall, Jude looked different during the day. Every silver streak, every black line etched into his skin, stood out in sharp relief. And seeing him against the pastoral backdrop made him look all the more machinelike.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, jumping up as he sat down.
"I should ask you that," he said. "Last I checked, this was my place."
"Oh, so now you own the river?"
"Sarcasm doesn't scare me. Fire away. I'm staying."
"Enjoy," I said. "I'm going."
"After I came all this way? I would have thought a girl like you would come equipped with better manners."
"So you're stalking me now? How'd you know I was here?"
"I know all." He smirked.
"I'm leaving."
"Okay, wait!" He spread his arms wide in truce. "Your zone, okay? You posted the pic. I recognized the view."
"You've been lurking on my zone?"
"What can I say? I have a lot of time on my hands," Jude said.
"Use it for something else," I snapped. "Stay out of my life."
"Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I think you're worth a little extra effort."
I couldn't believe it. Not another one. Not today. At least this time around I wouldn't have to worry about letting him down easy. "Look, I'm flattered-Well, I'm not, actually, but let's say I am. I'm not interested, okay? So-"
"You think I'm interested?" He burst into laughter. "You really are an egomaniac, aren't you? I mean, I knew you were spoiled and self-absorbed, that's par for the course. But this? Please. Trust me, I'm not into the chase. When I want something, it chases me."
And I was the egomaniac?
Still, I sat down again. He had some kind of agenda, that was obvious. And if it wasn't the expected one, that was interesting. Or at least interesting enough to distract me from the things that actually mattered.
"So why are you here?" I asked.
"Brought you something."
"What?" Like I cared.
"Just something to help you let go."
"What makes you think I have any interest in doing that?"
He smiled. "Because letting go, that's the key. If you're too scared to let go, you'll never be in control. Not really."
"Is that supposed to make sense?" I asked. "Let go so I can get control? Do you even listen to yourself talk, or do you just spit out this crap at random?"
"It's all connected," he said, so disgustingly pleased with himself. So sure. "People only fear letting go because they fear they won't be able to get the control back. That they'll keep going until their urges and instincts destroy them."
"But you know better?"
"I know you're afraid of what you've turned into, but only because you don't know what it is, not yet. And because you don't understand it, you think you can't control it."
"You're wrong."
"You're a machine," he said. "And that means absolute control-or, if you so choose, absolute release. You have the power to decide if you let yourself." He pulled something out of his pocket, small enough to fit snugly in the palm of his hand. "You wanted to know why I came looking for you? To give you this."
He tossed the object at me, and I caught it without thinking. It was a small, black cube with a tiny switch on one side and a slim, round aperture on the other. Harmless.
"It's a program," he said.
"For what?"
"For you. Or for your brain, at least. You can upload it wirelessly through your ocular nerve."
"That's not possible." No one at BioMax had said anything about additional programming; no one had hinted that I might be able to...reprogram myself.
You have a computer inside your head, the Faith leader had said. Programmed by man.
Normal people-human people-didn't adjust their programming. They didn't rewire themselves with chips and wireless projections. They just changed. Or they didn't.
"Anything's possible if you know the right people," Jude said smugly, like he said everything.
"What's it do?"
"Let's call it a vivid illustration of my point."
I faked a laugh. "You want me to stick something in my brain based on your predictably vague recommendation?"
"I don't care what you do," Jude said, and the way he said it, I almost believed him. Not that it mattered. "Think of it as a dream."
"We don't dream."
He gave me a knowing smile. "Yes. That's what they told you."
"You're lying."
"Maybe," he said. "Only one way to find out. You say you're not afraid, right? Prove it."
I tossed his little black box back to him. "Just how stupid do you think I am?"
He smirked. "You really want an answer to that?"
"Excuse me for not just buying all your crap without question, like one of your brainwashed groupies."
"I don't have to brainwash them," Jude said. "They know the truth when they hear it."
"Unlike me?"
"Apparently."
"So that's what this is?" I asked. "You've made it your own personal mission to convert me?"
He laughed. It made him look like a different person. No, that's not quite right. It made him look like a person. "See what I mean?" he said. "Total egomaniac. You should really get that checked out."
"You're here, aren't you?" I pointed out. "Following me?"
"Maybe I was just in the mood to talk."
"To me?"
He looked around at the wilderness. "Seems like my only viable option."
I shrugged. "So talk."
"Let's start with: What's wrong?" he asked.
He almost sounded like he really wanted to know. Not that it mattered. "No. I'm not talking about me."
"Because?"
"Recovering egomaniac," I reminded him.
He grinned. "The first step is admitting you have a problem."
"And the second step is acknowledging that other people do too. So let's start with you. Why are you following me? Really."
He shook his head. "No cheating. That's still about you."
"Fine. How about: Where do you live? What do you do all day when you're not stalking me? How did you end up a mech-"
"I told you before," he said, the joking tone gone from his voice. "The past doesn't matter. All that matters is what I am now, and that's everything I want to be."
"Come on, how can you say that?"
"Easy. It's true." His eyes flashed.
Everything I wanted to be had died in that car crash.
"You really don't miss it?" I asked. "Not at all?"
He smiled wryly. "There's not much to miss. We weren't all like you."
"What's *like me'?"
"Rich," he said, ticking it off on his fingers. "Treasured. Sheltered. Deluded."
"Is this fun for you? Insulting me every time you open your mouth?"
"A little."
I started to get up again, but he grabbed my arm. "Okay, I'm sorry," he said. "Don't go. Please." I glared, and after a moment he let go. But I sat down again.
"You think this is some kind of punishment," he said. And again it almost sounded like he cared. Or at least that he understood.
"I don't-"
"You do," he said. "Because you don't let yourself see the possibilities. All you can see is what you've lost."
Everything.
"Some of us didn't have that much to lose," he continued with less intensity than usual.
"You do realize you're being ridiculously vague, right?"
"You want something concrete?" he asked. "How about the way it feels to walk for the first time?"
There was something new in his voice, something ragged and unrehearsed, like he'd gone off his script and wasn't sure how to find his way back. He sounded like I felt: lost.
"Or to know that nothing can ever hurt you again, not for real?" he continued. "How about never having to be afraid?"
I was afraid all the time.
If he knew how that felt, if he could understand that and had found a way to fight back, maybe I'd been wrong about him. About it all.
"That's why, isn't it?" I said softly. "Why you don't talk about before."
He looked away. "I told you. The past is irrelevant for us."
"I'm not talking about us. I'm talking about you." Without knowing why, I wanted to touch him, to rest my hand on his hand, his knee, his shoulder. I wanted contact. "I'm talking about whatever happened to you. Want to talk, Jude?" I said. It wasn't a question, it was a challenge. "Talk about that. Talk about how you ended up here. How you're just like the rest of us." I paused, not sure I should keep going. And when I did, it was in a whisper. "Broken."
He raised his eyes off the ground and looked at me. "I'm not broken. And I don't need your pity."
Pity hadn't even occurred to me. Why would it when we were the same? "I'm not-"
"Save it for yourself," he said, his eyes flashing again, a yellow-orange that looked like flame. "Drown in it, for all I care. I don't need it. I know what I am. I'm proud of what I am."