His hand reached out, moved to her knee. She didn’t flinch. It was more like an involuntary stillness. Like her body didn’t want to startle the moment.
She’d missed his touch.
“I don’t think you were trying to trick me,” she said, poking at her broccolini.
“I wasn’t.”
“I also think you’re not used to explaining your instincts.”
“I’m not.”
She glanced at him. “Can you try?”
He met her gaze. “I didn’t hide it to be strategic,” he said. “I acted like it was already mine. That’s how I operate.”
Bea turned back to her chicken, thinking that through.
When the plate was empty, she pushed it slightly forward. Sat back.
“You’re afraid,” he observed.
“Of course I am.”
“Of me?”
No. Not him. She was afraid of how rational this all sounded when he presented it to her. Of how easy it was to forget her doubts in the face of the UR’s logic.
Of how clear his vision always was, because he fully believed in his world.
“Of this system. Of getting lost in it.”
His thumb moved on her knee. “That’s not what it’s meant to do. It’s meant to let you choose, through your actions, where you want to set up camp.”
“And then?”
“And then help me make sure you flourish there.”
She paused, remembering the phrase from the Harvest Summit. “The walled garden,” she said softly.
He nodded. “You’ve been Tier Four since February. It’s June. You didn’t even know about it, because it hasn’t stopped you from anything.” He added quietly, “Neither have I.”
He wasn’t wrong. No rules had appeared in her inbox. No alarms or restrictions. But maybe that was only because she hadn’t tried the door.
“I didn’t think I was choosing anything. I just thought I was staying over.”
“In Canada that’s probably what it would have been,” he said. “But in the Republic, choices count. You spend the night, it means something. A pattern becomes a path. No one’s surprised where they end up.”
In other words, no one forced you. But the system kept track. Mirrored your steps back to you as proof.
It didn’t care what you meant. The feedback loop was based on what youdid.
She stared at the empty plate. At his hand still resting lightly against her leg. She wasn’t ready for him to go home. Not yet. But she didn’t want to talk about the Tier Four issue anymore. She just wanted him close.
“I’ve got an econ question. You got time?”
His mouth curved. “Always.”
GAGE
