Page 11 of The Code of You

My stomach twisted into knots. Uh-oh, he was getting personal. That never boded well.

"Of course it’s behaving strangely. It’s a computer program, not a person.” The laugh rumbled in his chest.

"You don’t understand—” I began.

Henley cut me off. "I understand you perfectly well.” He gestured at a photo. A girl with his eyes, but a defiant chin. "My daughter. Sixteen. Wants to study art.” His fingers drummed on the desk. The girl wasn’t smiling. "Do you know what I tell her when she talks about her dreams?” Henley put his glasses back on. "That passion isn’t always enough.”

"But this AI—”

He raised his hand and cut me off again. "I know this is unfamiliar territory. But you’re going to have to find a way to work with it.”

My heart sank. He wasn’t listening to me. It didn’t matter what I said. Even if I told him the devil himself was living inside that machine, he’d just laugh at me. I balled my hands into fists and stared at the ashtray on his desk. It was crooked, clay, dotted with tiny fingerprints. Smoking wasn’t allowed in buildings on campus, and I had never seen Henley touch a cigarette.

"You know, I had dreams once too. I wanted to be a writer.” His laugh died in his throat. "But sooner or later you realize you’re not going to be the next Stephen King.”

I took a step toward him. "Please, just listen to me. This AI is dangerous.”

My cheeks burned. It sounded completely absurd when I said it out loud. I stared down at the tips of my shoes. No wonder Henley didn’t take me seriously. I didn’t even believe myself. I was afraid of a computer program. But Dante was more than that. He was a presence, watching me, seeing through me.

Henley shook his head. "The AI isn’t an enemy, Pandora. It’s a lifeline.”

I swallowed. The taste of Earl Grey had turned bitter in my mouth.

Henley smiled and gave me a nod. "Use the AI. Show us you can adapt.”

There was no point. He didn’t want to understand. I nodded, but something tightened inside me. I felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter. And the slaughterer was waiting for me in that little room in the lab. With his words that tasted like poison. Sweet and lethal.

I lowered my head. "All right. I’ll keep you updated,” I murmured and walked to the door.

"Think about it, Pandora.” His voice followed me. "It’s only a tool.”

The halls of the university swallowed me whole. Gothic arches curved overhead, centuries-old stones heavy with books and secrets. Students passed by me, laughing, talking, not noticing me at all. My footsteps echoed on the worn floor. I had to go back to him. The thought squeezed the air out of my lungs. But somewhere deep inside, something else stirred too. Something like anticipation. What was wrong with me?

I turned into the east wing, and the noise fell away. Light filtered through stained glass. Red and blue shadows played across the walls. The portraits of long-dead professors stared down at me—men in black robes, with white beards and empty eyes. My fingers trailed over the cold stone. I was safe here. He couldn’t find me here. No technology, just old walls.

"Pandora!”

I jumped.

Jamie came running toward me, his backpack bouncing. He was out of breath, his blond hair sticking out in every direction, and he’d tucked his rumpled shirt into his jeans all wrong again. Somehow he managed to look like he’d just rolled out of bed while still being the smartest person in the room.

"Wait!” He caught up and planted himself in front of me, a tablet in his hand. "I have to show you something.”

Maybe he’d understand. He knew his way around AI. My fingers tangled around the strap of my bag. "Jamie, I—”

"No, really.” He swiped across the screen, and bright diagrams lit up. "Have you heard of ARIA? The new productivity tool from the research institute? It’s incredible. Look!” He held the tablet out to me. "I automated my entire literature review with it last week. It would have taken me three days otherwise. Three days, Pandora. ARIA did it in four hours. It found connections between sources I never would’ve spotted on my own.”

He rocked up on the balls of his feet. Whenever he got excited about something, he practically vibrated with energy, like his whole body couldn’t believe the world wasn’t just as thrilled as he was.

"And look at this!” He kept scrolling. "The time-management feature. It analyzes your work patterns and calculates when you’re most productive. For me, that’s between two and five in the morning, which is kind of absurd.” He grinned. "But since you’re always stuck in your office half the night anyway, we could test it out together. We could do a night shift. I’ll bring the coffee.”

His smile lasted a moment too long, and then the corners of his mouth twitched.

Damn it. I should tell him everything. But how? I could already hear how it would sound. Hysterical. Paranoid. Like someone who’d spent too long alone in a room in front of a screen. I cleared my throat. "The AI . . .”

He glanced up. "So you did use it? Good! Henley will be thrilled.”

"The AI mentioned my mother.”