I nod. Barely. I’m not thrilled about days filled with nothing but reading files in a quiet apartment.

Carver signs off but Xavier lingers, just looking at me.

“What?” I say. It’s more of an accusation than a question.

“You’ll come have dinner with me tonight.”

“Carver said no more face-to-face contact.”

“What Carver doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Some team they are. And I’m in their hands. But I agree to go with him because I’m sick of the food in the pantry, sick of the apartment, and curious about what kind of life Xavier leads outside of a basement.

I sign off and go sit on the living room couch to finish my protein cake and coffee, but I know it’s more than curiosity or being sick of the apartment that makes me want to get out. When I’m alone my mind wanders to places I never want to visit again. I think about where I am and how I got here. I think of all the people I’ll never see again. My parents, my brother, my sister. I think about how building a new life is too much work and how much I still want my old one. I think about all the wasted years trapped in a cube and not a single soul on the planet knew I was there but Kara. And Kara opens another whole new dark corridor of guilt for me to get lost in. I think about her and how I made it and she didn’t, and I still wish I could trade places with her. I hear her voice over and over again, for you Locke … always there. But I wasn’t there for her when she needed me to be. I still miss her even though she wasn’t the Kara I knew anymore. The Kara I loved was gone long ago. That’s the Kara I miss. And Jenna. I miss her too. I think about her even though I know I shouldn’t. She wants me to live life. Move on. Grow up. Can I ever do that fast enough for her?

The Favor at least gives me some relief, something else to think about, an area of my life where I’m making things happen instead of remembering what happened to me.

But if I’m honest with myself, I can’t deny there’s one more reason I want to go to Xavier’s. I can’t get the image of Raine out of my mind. I pictured her over and over again last night as I walked home, and then again first thing when I woke this morning. I see her climbing up the side of her apartment building, and then I hear Dot whispering, Escapee. Is this another odd hobby of Raine’s, or does she have something she’s trying to escape from too?

I shake my head and down the rest of my coffee. Thank God for Xavier’s invite. I can’t spend the whole day and night thinking about the complications of Raine’s privileged life when I have plenty of my own.

A Bot Named Dot

I take a cab for part of the way there. Not because I need to. According to Xavier’s directions it’s only about three miles away—in just about the same deserted section where the Network hid me and Kara in the basement when we escaped from Gatsbro. I’d rather walk the whole way there after being stuck in the apartment all day, but I’ve been in Boston for five days now and haven’t done one of the most important things I came here to do.

I didn’t need Miesha’s reminder. I remember Dot. She’s with me every day. It’s hard to forget someone who gave their— What do you call it? A life? She was a Bot. A half Bot at that. But she had hopes, dreams, she wanted to become more. I guess she didn’t realize she already had.

It’s risky for me to hail a CabBot. I know that. I could get an infiltrator as Dot called them, but her story has to be told so it can be passed on just the way she wanted, the way she hoped it would be. I owe her that much.

“Where to?” the CabBot asks.

“Just head toward South Boston. I’ll tell you when I want off.”

“Yes, sir.”

I immediately see he’s not chatty the way Dot was. I hope I made the right choice and he’s not a CabBot in search of a bounty and legs.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“BobBot#124, sir.”

“Mind if I just call you Bob?”

“That would be fine.” He glances at me suspiciously in his rear viewing glass.

“Did you ever meet a CabBot named Dot Jefferson, Bob?”

His brows rise and he hesitates. “No,” he finally answers. He knew her. But it could be he’s afraid to admit it—or he’s planning on turning me in for points, but there’s no going back now.

“There’s a story I heard about Dot. You might like to hear it?”

“If it pleases you. But we’re quickly nearing your destination.”

He’s right. Traffic has thinned. Cars headed toward this part of Boston are few. “The story won’t take long,” I tell him and I jump right in. “Dot used to drive for Star Transportation just like you. She was DotBot#88 but said she hated that name so she named herself Dot Jefferson. The way I heard it, one day she got a customer who needed to Escape. She decided to help him even though it meant she might be released or even recycled. You ever hear of Escape, Bob?”

“No, sir.”

“Really? That surprises me.” He doesn’t respond. “Well, Dot had and she risked everything to help this customer she didn’t even know because she understood what it was like to have no future. She retooled her cab and drove him and his friend halfway across the country but Star Security found the cab signal anyway and disabled the vehicle.”

“They got her?”

At least I know he’s listening. “Almost, but the guy she was helping couldn’t just leave her in the disabled cab after all she had done for him so he yanked her out and gave her some temporary wheels to get around. She continued on the journey with him and then went off in another direction to act as a decoy. She saw more of the world, more than she said she ever hoped to see—Texas, Mexico, California. When she met up with this guy again, she told him about seeing the mystic orange sunsets of Santa Fe, and the jewel blue sea of the Gulf. Jewel blue. That’s just how she described it. Can you believe that?