Never, he thought, had something tasted so wonderful.

When he’d devoured every last morsel and drained the cup dry, Michael wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked up at the flat green face of the robot.

“I’m done. Thank you.” Although his stomach was having a little trouble with the sudden feast.

The silver creature took a few steps backward until it came to rest in the back corner of the room. At the same time, the disk that had held Michael’s meal lowered to the floor and disappeared. Michael returned his attention to the robot.

It spoke again. “You are at the point of no return. The crossroads. Until now, your death would have ended your quest for what lies at the end of the Path, but not your true life. Your companions are now back at their homes, alive and safe.”

“Um …,” Michael started to say. “I’m glad they’re safe. I’m planning on joining them really soon.”

The robot continued as if it hadn’t heard him. “You will no longer have the comfort of knowing your death is not the ultimate end. The rest of your journey, including the Hallowed Ravine, should you enter its sacred realm, will be completed with true life hanging in the balance.”

Michael felt a stitch in his gut. What was this thing talking about?

“Commence operation,” the robot said. Two words that made Michael jump to his feet, suddenly full of energy but with nowhere to go.

A buzzy thrum filled the room, followed by the sounds of machinery. Michael looked up in horror to see metal arms descending from the white ceiling, their ends capped with various instruments. Hinged silver claws came at him first. He tried to run, but the things were too fast. Two claws latched on to his arms, clasping closed and yanking him up into the air. Two more grabbed his legs, pulling them apart so that he was upright but spread-eagled. He struggled against the grips but they were solid—immovable.

Other arms swarmed in. One put a band around Michael’s neck and another around his forehead, forcing his head forward and still. A band slipped around his chest, squeezed tightly until it almost hurt. In a matter of seconds, Michael had been pulled into the air and immobilized.

“What are you doing to me?” he yelled. “What’s going on?”

The robot didn’t answer, didn’t move. Michael quickly closed his eyes to examine the programming, but it looked like a foreign language in a blur of constant movement, completely inaccessible. There was a hum and a sound like gears shifting to his right, close to his ear, but he couldn’t turn his head to see what was happening. He could sense something just inches away, could barely see an object at the edge of his peripheral vision. Then the worst noise of all started, like a spinning drill, shrill and whirring more rapidly as it sped up.

“What are you doing?” Michael shouted again.

Then a pain exploded in the side of his head. He screamed as something dug into his flesh, tearing his skin open. His lungs emptied of air and he sucked in a breath, then screamed all over again.

The pain was overwhelming. Suddenly the robot was standing in front of Michael again, that green shield just a few inches from his face.

“Your Core has been destroyed,” it said. “True death now awaits if you fail.”

CHAPTER 21

TWO DOORS

1

The claws that had so fiercely held Michael’s body in place let go abruptly. He fell to the floor in a heap as the metal arms retracted into the ceiling with the whir of machinery and steel against steel. In seconds it was over. The room grew silent, and he was once again alone with the silver monster.

His head ached. His hand had naturally gone up to touch the wound, and when he brought it away to look, it was covered in blood. His insides felt like someone had gone in with a sharp blade and scraped them clean. His Core had been removed.

“How did you do that?” he asked the robot. Only Michael should be able to remove his Core. There were passwords for this exact reason. “How did you know my coding?”

“There can only be one chance now. Death awaits you.” The robot’s cold voice made Michael’s skin crawl. “Kaine has ways of accessing your code that no one else knows.”

“You tell Kaine that I’m going to kill him,” Michael replied, the rage a rising tide in his chest. “I’m going to find him and root out every last digit of his code. I’m going to drain every bit of his fake intelligence into a toilet, and then I’m gonna flush it into oblivion. Tell him I said that.”

“No need for such a command,” the silver menace answered. “Kaine hears all.”

2

The words had barely come out when the brightness of the room intensified, burning everything white. Michael squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fists against them. There was a steady hum that transformed into a buzz, then a high-pitched trilling ring.

It vibrated inside Michael’s skull, and the wound in his temple throbbed with pain. He sensed a fresh trickle of blood seeping into his hair.

The light and the sound grew to an unbearable strength, like tangible walls pressing in on all sides, crushing him. A scream formed in his lungs, a desperate plea for someone to save him—it surged up his throat and exploded out of his mouth, only to be lost in the storm of noise that had filled the room.

Then everything went dark and silent. The sound of his breath filled his ears. Sweat covered his skin. Instinct told him to stay still, to keep his eyes closed, to pray that whatever waited for him next would just go away and leave him be. Having his Core removed—coded out by monstrously illegal means—had terrified him more than he thought possible.

He didn’t want to die. Up until the robot, he’d been scared, but at least he’d known that death meant going back to the Wake to get out of his Coffin and collapse in bed. His only lasting injuries would have been psychological—something a good shrink could fix in a few sessions of therapy. He could deal with the VNS when he had to.

But now it was all for real. Without the Core—without that safety barrier and its link to the Coffin—his brain would stop functioning back home when he died. It was part of the system, as much a part of their makeup as a beating heart. Otherwise the infrastructure of the VirtNet would never work like it did—it wouldn’t be so lifelike. The Core barrier was vital to the programming.

And his was gone.

He did not want to look. If he’d had a blanket, he would’ve pulled it up over his head and whimpered like a baby.