“And that was always his intent?” the justices are asking now.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Never, at any time, did he do anything with the algorithm against the general population with any intent of harm?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Then at what time, specifically, did the algorithm become a malicious tool?”
“When the Blackcoats stole it from Hideo and installed their hacks on his system.”
“And can you name everyone in the Blackcoats who was directly responsible for this plan?” one of the justices asks.
Jax nods. And as Tremaine and I listen on in stunned silence, she starts to list names. Every single one.
Taylor.
The technicians at the Innovation Institute who had known about her projects.
The workers who had helped Taylor run her experiments, had taken Jax and Sasuke and stolen their lives from them.
The other Blackcoats scattered around the world—their other hackers, other mercenaries, every single person she had ever worked with under Taylor.
She lists them all out.
My mind whirls. I look toward Jax again. Even though Sasuke isn’t here, I can sense his presence in the room, as if the boy who had disappeared has finally, in Jax, found a voice for his story.
After a stunning decision today by the Supreme Court of Japan, Henka Games founder Hideo Tanaka has been acquitted of charges of grand conspiracy and capital murder. He was found guilty of second-degree manslaughter in the death of Dr. Dana Taylor, as well as illegally exploiting his creation, the NeuroLink, in his investigation into his brother’s disappearance. Local authorities today raided the Japan Innovation Institute of Technology, where several items of evidence mentioned in testimony appear to be missing, among them an armored suit described in detail by witnesses Emika Chen and Jackson Taylor. The suit has not been recovered.
—THE TOKYO DIGEST
34
Two weeks havepassed since Hideo’s sentencing.
They felt like an eternity, now that the NeuroLink no longer functions. People wake up and log on to the Internet in the way they used to before Hideo’s glasses took over the world. There are no overlays when I want to get directions, no translations for people I can’t understand. There’s an absence in our lives that’s hard to describe. Still, people seem to see the world better now.
As the day starts to fade into twilight, I set out on my electric skateboard to find Asher, Roshan, and Hammie. Without the NeuroLink, I rely on old-fashioned techniques like hoodies and caps and dark glasses. There are a million journalists who want to track me down. If I were smart, I’d take an auto-car.
But I get on my board anyway and head into the city. I feel like I belong out here, facing the rushing wind, my balance honed from years of traveling alone on busy city streets. Around me risesTokyo, therealTokyo, trains traveling over bridges and skyscrapers towering into the clouds, temples nestled quietly between roaring neighborhoods. I smile as it all passes me by. My time in Tokyo might be coming to an end, but I don’t know where I want to go next. After a few overwhelming months, this place has started to feel like home.
I’m lucky enough not to be stopped by anyone as I reach a garden nestled deep in the middle of a quiet neighborhood in the Mejiro district. There are few people here, and no prying eyes. I hop off my board, swing it over my shoulder, and stare at the simple, elegant entrance against a plain white wall, all of it washed into pinks by the sunset. Then I step inside.
It’s a beautifully sculpted space, a large, koi-filled pond surrounded by carefully pruned trees and round rocks, arching bridges and trickling waterfalls. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting myself soak in the scent of pine and blossoms.
A voice drifts toward me. I open my eyes and look in its direction.
A small pagoda is at one end of the garden, and waiting beside its pillars are Roshan, Hammie, and Asher, sharing bottles of soda. They wave at me. My smile breaks into a grin, and I head over to them. My footsteps quicken until I reach them, when I stop with a jolting halt.
“Hey,” I say to Roshan.
He grins back at me. “Hey.”
And then my teammates crush me into a hug.
I lean heavily against them, not saying a word. After everything’s that’s happened since my life turned upside down, this is the best part of it all.
Minutes later, the four of us sit in a row along the stone ledgeof the pagoda that overlooks the koi pond, our legs dangling above the water. The sun has set completely now, washing the sky’s orange and gold into softer shades of purple and pink.
