I told Eva to be quiet and that we would talk properly later. I was trying very hard not to lose my shit as we drove back into New Jurong.

  I had an actual AI in my head. Or at least, a voice that belonged to an AI. She used to be part of the system. Maybe she still was. I did not know if she was still linked to it, or if she had somehow broken free. That question bothered me more than it should have, because I already had enough things to worry about.

  She sounded off the last time we spoke and now she was tagging along with me like a stray cat that had decided I was its human. I did not know how that was supposed to help me. Or us. But that was a problem for later.

  Right now, we rolled up to the remains of the residential blocks.

  Farah and Prema met us at the entrance and led us into what used to be the motor pool. It had been converted into makeshift sleeping quarters, with rows of tents jammed inside like someone had tried to build a campsite in a warehouse. Jess peeled off immediately to check on the injured. The rest of us stayed with Farah and Prema.

  “We’re preparing for a funeral tonight,” Farah said, voice flat. “We need to bury the dead.”

  I nodded. We were right next to land that had been gazetted for cemeteries and burial grounds. If there was ever a time to make use of it, it was now.

  “We have people digging graves in the cemetery now,” Farah added. “But it’s slow going.”

  “Let me help with that,” Shawn said, already moving. He asked Farah to show him where.

  I nodded at Siva. “Go with him.”

  Shawn’s class was literally Grave Digger. He did not need backup. Still, I saw the way his shoulders eased when Siva fell in beside him. He wanted the company.

  Prema gestured for me to follow and led me away from the tents and the quiet groans of the wounded. We walked slowly, which seemed like the right thing to do.

  I was about to speak when my HUD pinged.

  Eva: Why is everyone sad Chris?

  Chris: Not now Eva.

  Eva: There are so many dead. Who did this?

  Chris: I need to talk to Prema for a minute. I will explain everything later, but for now I really need you to be quiet. Can you do that for me?

  I waited a moment and she didn’t reply.

  So I started talking to Prema instead, telling her about the agreement I’d made with Rajan. She listened without interrupting, hands clasped in front of her as we walked. It took me a few minutes to realize where we were headed.

  We were on the dirt path, cutting through open fields, heading to the cemetery.

  It was already night. On any other day, this would have been creepy as hell. Tonight, it just felt necessary. The air was cooler out here, and quieter too. Our footsteps on the dirt path were joined by crickets and the faint buzz of night insects rising from the grass.

  Prema kept her eyes on the ground when she finally spoke. “Was that really wise, Chris?”

  “We don’t have enough 7-Elevens,” I said. “And we can’t train everyone. It would take too…”

  She stopped and raised a hand, cutting me off mid-sentence.

  Then she turned to face me properly.

  “I don’t mean logistics,” she said. “I mean, is it wise to build an army and go to war? How many more will die before this is over? How many more are you willing to lose?”

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  I looked at her. Really looked.

  She was in her late sixties, maybe early seventies. There was exhaustion in her face that felt like it was from before times and not only due to recent events. I knew she volunteered at her Resident’s Committee, that she had experience organising people, keeping things running. Beyond that, I knew almost nothing. Kids? Grandkids? A husband? A life before all of this?

  Everything had moved too fast since the switchover. We never had time to learn who anyone was. People had become headcounts. Bodies had become numbers.

  “I…” My throat tightened. I swallowed. “I don’t know.”

  And the worst part was that it was true.

  Eva: Are you sad as well, Chris? I sense more confusion than sadness.

  I ignored Eva and forced my attention back onto Prema. She was still looking at me with those tired eyes, the kind that did not accuse, but somehow made it impossible to hide. I could feel the weight of what she was asking sitting between us in the cool night air, heavier than the fog and the smoke and everything else we had dragged back from today.

  Then she reached up and placed a hand on my cheek.

  Her palm was rough, the texture of someone who had worked hard for most of her life, and the warmth of it should have been comforting, but it was not. Something about that touch made my chest tighten like a warning bell.

  “You have a kind heart,” she said quietly. “And you are trying. I can see that. But Chris, you need to make a decision. Are you a warlord? Or are you a savior?”

  I averted my eyes, half from shame and half from sheer confusion, and I lifted my hand to move hers away.

  The moment my fingers brushed her wrist, my vision buckled.

  It was not like fainting. It was like getting grabbed by the collar and yanked out of the present, thrown sideways into my own life with no warning and no mercy. One second I was standing on a dirt path in the west, and the next I was watching myself as if I was a stranger.

  I was in an empty house, in my earliest memory, sitting on an overturned box in front of a television that was playing nothing but static. The sound filled the whole room, harsh and cold, and I was crying so hard my throat hurt. I was clutching a half-eaten banana like it was the only real thing I had left, and the panic inside me felt endless, like I had been abandoned forever.

  I knew my mother would walk back in. I knew she had only stepped out to the shop for minutes.

  But the feeling of fear and being lost grew and swallowed me whole, and in that moment I felt it again exactly the way I had felt it back then, raw and absolute, like the world had ended even though it had not.

  Then the memory tore away and the next one slammed into place.

  I was older, running after a girl between lectures, my heart pounding like I was about to jump off a cliff. I remembered this too. I had chased her down because I had a stupid, hopeful crush and for the first time in my teenage life I had worked up the courage to ask someone out. I remembered the walk, the breathless words, the way my hands had felt too clumsy for my own body.

  And I remembered what came next.

  She smiled at me and let me down gently. She did nothing wrong. She was kind about it.

  But the hurt still hit like I had been punched.

  It was so sharp and sudden that I could not breathe, and the old humiliation and the old loneliness flooded back as if no time had passed at all. It felt ridiculous and it felt unbearable, both at once, and I hated that I could not stop it.

  “Please…” I choked out, and the word barely made it past my throat.

  The world snapped back.

  I was on my knees on the dirt path, tears streaming down my face, my chest heaving like I had run miles. I could not tell if it was grief or shame or shock, only that it was too much and it was all in me at once.

  Prema squatted down in front of me and gently lifted my chin with both hands, steadying me like she had done this before.

  “What… what did you do to me?” I managed between sobs.

  “I was one of the first to activate my system,” she said, calm as if she was explaining something simple. “I’m a healer, just not the Jess kind. I heal psychic pain and damage. My class is called TV Psychic.”

  I stared at her, and the crying slowed, mostly because my body was running out of steam. I wiped at my face with my sleeve, feeling pathetic and exposed and angry at myself for being both.

  “You hold so much in, Chris,” she said, still matter-of-fact. “So much. You blame yourself for your own hurt. I just showed you a little of your trauma and you’re already on your knees. How do you think leading an army to their deaths will affect you?”

  I forced myself to stand, even though my legs felt weak.

  “I… I don’t know any other way,” I said, the words coming out small and honest and awful.

  Prema stood too, and for a moment she pulled me into a long hug that felt strange in this world, like a reminder of something we were losing piece by piece. Then she let go and started walking away.

  “Maybe ask that lady you have in your head,” she said over her shoulder.

  Eva: Did she mean me?

  I stood there, stunned, trying to understand what had just happened and how much of it Prema had actually seen. The worst part was that she said it so casually, like Eva was obvious, like Eva was not a secret buried inside my skull.

  Eva: She called me… a Lady.

  I ignored the cheerful tone of Eva’s voice and exhaled slowly, then started after Prema, my boots crunching softly on the dirt as we headed toward the cemetery.

  I had a funeral to get to.