15

Oliver Bowen

May 9, 2030. Washington, D.C.

Oliver watched the city go by through the limo’s one-way glass. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. The D.C. area gave you a deceptive perspective on what was happening in the world. It wasn’t that D.C. was the same as it had been before the invasion, but the fortifications around the entire D.C.-Alexandria area were so heavy you felt a sense of safety and stability.

The limo pulled to a stop in front of Vanessa’s apartment, a walk-up in a luxury complex, and Oliver’s heart rate doubled. He had no idea how she would react to him showing up at her door. In the weeks since Five revealed it had lied, Oliver had rehearsed a hundred things to say, imagined all the reactions Vanessa might have.

He raised his fist and knocked.

Vanessa looked surprised to see him, and that gave him hope. She didn’t look angry, at least. But she didn’t invite him in, either; she only stared at him, wide-eyed, clutching the door.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Vanessa began to look, if not angry, then at least unhappy.

He stammered, words eluding him. After all the time he’d spent planning what he’d say to Vanessa, he found his mind blank. “I’m so sorry.”

Vanessa folded her arms. “How did you finally figure it out?”

“Five—the Luyten—told me it had lied.” He didn’t know whether to refer to Five as it, or he, or she. None sounded right, so he found himself switching back and forth.

She gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Maybe it’s lying now. Maybe you should find another starfish to corroborate Five’s claim before jumping to any conclusions.”

Oliver licked his extremely dry lips. “I know I should have believed you instead of it, but if you understood what it was like, how it gets inside your head.” He stabbed a finger at his temple. “It knows exactly what buttons to push, it knows your fears and insecurities, all of your secrets.” He took a deep breath, trying to control his rising emotions.

Vanessa’s arms were still tightly crossed. She looked past him, into the street. “A limo?”

“I’ve been promoted. I’m the CIA Director of Science and Technology, and a special advisor to President Wood.” Oliver wanted to tell Vanessa about his work, about the small part he’d played in the defenders project, but it was still technically classified. He’d been allowed to leave Easter Island now that eight heavily defended production facilities were up and running, and keeping their existence secret from the Luyten was all but impossible, but that didn’t mean he could talk about the project with anyone he chose.

“Wow, congratulations,” Vanessa said, sounding sincere, if not particularly enthusiastic.

“I’m going to adopt Kai—the orphan who discovered—”

“I know who Kai is,” Vanessa said, cutting him off. She was back to looking surprised. “You told me you never wanted children. You said they made you uncomfortable.”

“They do.” He shrugged. “But someone has to take care of him.” He’d hoped telling Vanessa about Kai would reform him in her eyes, make him seem worthy of forgiveness. That wasn’t the reason he was doing it, but still, he’d hoped. He waited for some kind word he could build on.

“Why did you come here, Oliver?”

“I came to apologize. I should have trusted you. I’m sorry.”

“Oliver—”

“The truth is, I believed Five because I couldn’t believe you could really love me. It was so hard to see how you could. But, believe it or not, Five’s psychological attacks have opened my eyes to—”

“Oliver.”

He knew what she was about to say—he could read it in her eyes, and he didn’t want to hear it. “Just spend some time with me, and you’ll see. I’m not asking you to forgive me, just give me some of your time—”

“No,” she said, simply, emphatically. “No. You’re right, I can’t forgive you for this. For leaving me in the middle of this.” She started to lift her arms, then let them flop back to her sides. “Maybe the end of the world is supposed to make things like this seem insignificant, but for me, it hasn’t. It’s set me on a razor’s edge. There’s right, and there’s wrong.” Vanessa rubbed her upper lip, shaking her head. “And what you did was wrong. You were supposed to believe me. You were supposed to take my side.”

Oliver had no response. Her answer was one he’d anticipated, but even imagining the words, he’d never come up with a reply.

He wanted to say goodbye but didn’t trust himself to get the words out steadily. Instead, he nodded, then headed down the steps.