“No. No, I won’t. I can’t.Wecan’t.”
“You can’t expect us to actually do this, right Snow?”
“We have no choice.”
Everyone spoke atop each other in a frantic plea to be heard, though Jo could hardly register anything outside of the ringing in her ears. First Mt. Fuji and now this? What sort of twisted game was the universe playing at? To call it unfair was beyond hyperbole at this point.
Eventually, it was Eslar’s voice that finally cut through the fray.
“So this is how we should expect things to be run now, Snow? Impossible requests with even more impossible time limits?”
In the tense quiet that followed Eslar’s question, everyone’s eyes shifted between the elf and the demigod. Snow didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. If Jo could see the shackles binding their leader to his reluctant affirmation, then she was certain everyone else could see them too. At least, she hoped they could. The last thing they needed was further fractures threatening to split them apart.
“I could always just kill another one of you and call it a day,” Pan chimed in, the sing-song tone to her voice causing Jo’s hackles to rise instantly. When Jo wrenched her attention from Snow to the woman-child, it was to find her leaning back in her chair again, face the epitome of boredom. Somehow, she’d happened upon a nail file, choosing to carefully sculpt each neon pink nail rather than partake in the tumultuous conversation with even a modicum of interest.
“No one else is getting killed,” Jo hissed, biting back the shiver that ran down her spine when Pan’s eyes darted up from her nails, capturing Jo in a stare that could eat an entire soul if she wanted.
“Except the innocent people we’re going to help this guy get away with killing,” Wayne mumbled, the bitterness in his voice shattering the beginning of whatever atmosphere had been radiating between Jo and Pan. Jo rubbed at her eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming; her hands were shaking.
There were no stars popping into the darkness under the pressure of her fingers. Just darkness, darkness, and more darkness. Enough that it could consume her whole if she wasn’t careful.
They were really doing this, weren’t they? Helping a serial killer avoid being brought to justice? And why? To avoid the possibility of their own demise should they fail or refuse?
For another long moment, no one spoke, mulling over the information in their own ways. The silence stretched on long enough that it almost made Jo want to scream, but she had no desire to be the one to break it. Not if she had nothing of value to offer. Thankfully, Takako was the first to pick back up the conversation.
“This . . . this killer. It’s an android, right?”
“You are correct.” Snow nodded.
“Can a robot evenmakea wish?” she asked. “I mean, isn’t that something that should be an exclusively human capability?”
Jo frowned, picturing the various anti-Artificial Intelligence organizations that had been popping up ever since the first droids were legally allowed autonomy in the Lone Star Republic. Giving androids rights went over surprisingly easy in the LSR, especially considering the never-ending back and forth in the UNA. So, it didn’t affect her, but she generally supported the Artificial Care Act; if something has the ability to think for itself, it should be able to act for itself too and accept responsibilities and protections for those decisions as a whole person in the eyes of the law.
“Like I said . . . it’s almost impossible to tell apart an android and a human nowadays,” Jo chimed in. “It would make sense that cognitive choice—free will—gives them the same power over a wishing circle as anyone else.”
“Perhaps if we knewwhythis Bone Carver was making the wish—his motives behind his actions—it would be an easier pill to swallow?” Eslar offered, though he appeared about as convinced as everyone else. In fact, Wayne didn’t bother to hold back the irritated roll of his eyes.
“What reasoning could possibly merit offing innocent people?”
“Do . . . Do we know for sure that they’re innocent?” Samson’s question brought everyone up short.
It didn’t seem worth considering: human lives were human lives regardless of situation. But Snow had never actually used the word “innocent”—Wayne had. Jo looked to Snow for clarification, and, despite the reasoning that a life was a life, she found herself hoping thatmaybethis would be something to cling to. Something, to quote Eslar, that might make this unforgivable task just a little bit easier to bear.
Snow leaned forward, placing his hands on the table before him, not looking at anyone in particular. “I have given you all the information on the motives I have. The killings are, seemingly, random. But the police are looking for a connection and that will lead them to the killer, and you will need to thwart them before they find one.”
Jo leaned back in her chair, worrying her bottom lip as she thought. They couldn’t be random killings,they just couldn’t be. To be broken so utterly that you would be driven to murder, driven to the brink of an abyss so inconceivable. . . there had to be a reason for it.
Maybe this was an act of self-preservation? But then why leave such grotesque calling cards? Why hurt the Artificial Care Act by fueling the words of those who’d cast suspicion or doubt on it? The Bone Carver was clearly trying to send a message, but to whom? And if therewasa pattern, would they be able to pinpoint who he might target next?
Jo sighed. Even if they knew who the next target was, there was nothing they could do about it. Their services were promised to the killer, not the prey.
“We need more data.” What she’d really wanted to say was,I don’t want to talk, or eventhinkabout this anymore. Not that she had a choice.
“See, isn’t this far better than just my slaughtering one of you?” Pan proclaimed, jumping up from her own chair. “So much intrigue, so much excitement. I can’t wait to see what you lot come up with to lessen the Severity of Exchange in just two short weeks.” She gave a wave over her shoulder as she exited the room. “But do let me know if you decide to give up. I think I get to choose, this time.”
Jo stared at the door, Pan’s words sitting uncomfortably low in her gut. If Pan wanted them to think that she was a prisoner like the rest of them, she was going about it in all the wrong ways. Because, at least to Jo’s ears, it almost sounded like the woman-child was eager for them to fail.
Chapter 4
