I fired a few more times, making certain the robot was going to keep following. Indeed, it picked up its pace. I gulped, ducking back into the vehicle. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this . . . but do these vehicles go any faster?”

They did, apparently. Sophie grinned. I held on for dear life.

“There,” Sophie said.

Ahead of us—hanging about ten feet above the road and surrounded by city debris—was a shimmering to the air, a mother-of-pearl incandescence that obviously didn’t fit. It reminded me of the Grand Aurora, though it was shaped like a very large version of the portal I’d come through to get here.

Sophie stopped the vehicle. Or, well, she stopped driving it—but the vehicle didn’t totally stop. It slid across the ground sideways and slammed into a building. The jerking halt almost made me throw up.

“You are insane,” I said.

“I thought we’d established that,” she replied, crawling woozily from the metal carriage, but still grinning.

I followed her out on shaking feet. The robot was approaching faster than I’d anticipated, and unfortunately this area wasn’t evacuating as quickly as I’d hoped. There were families here, cowering in the wreckage of buildings, despite the rain and the dangers. A weeping girl, no more than four, asked her mother again and again why the ground was shaking.

They have to live in a world that knows only darkness, I thought. So that Liveborn can have a place to come play.

I stumbled away from them, following Sophie toward the rift.

“Give me your hand,” she said as we reached the shimmering.

I gave it to her, and she held on tightly as she went down on one knee, eyes closed.

I felt a tingling.

“I can’t change your code directly,” she said. “I don’t dare.”

“I have code?”

“Worried? I thought you felt Simulated Entities were equal to Liveborn.”

“I didn’t say that. I said Machineborn were people, and that killing them was wrong. Liveborn are absolutely more important.”

“Nice you have your own place in things straight.”

“Well, I am a God-Emperor. Why did you say I have code?”

“Relax. We all have code notations around our core selves; like footnotes added to a textbook by someone studying for exams.”

“What’s a textbook?” I said. Then, after a moment, “What’s an exam?”

“Don’t distract me. Hmm . . . yes. I can’t rewrite your magic without risking frying your mind entirely.”

“Don’t change the magic. Just make it work here.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible; I’d have to change the laws of the entire State. But maybe . . .”

“What?”

The machine’s steps rattled my teeth; I could make out its head over the top of a nearby building, those red eyes glowing in the rain.

“Well,” Sophie said, “all of the code notations that explain how you make your magic work are still there, attached to you. It’s all tied to your State. There’s some kind of intrinsic power source, I assume?”

“Yes,” I said. “You can’t change the magic . . . but can you rewrite the source of its power? Make something in this world capable of fueling my Lancing?”

“Hmm . . . clever. Yes, maybe. Give me a moment.”

The wind started to pick up, the rain turning from a mist to a light shower. My shirt was already plastered to my body, my hair and beard sodden.

The thing emerged upon us, rounding the building nearby, shaving stone from its side.

“Just a moment . . .” Sophie repeated.

“We’re running out of moments, Sophie!”

“Working . . . working quickly as I can . . .” she said. “Oh, this is going to be a patchwork job. Electricity. Maybe I can use electricity as a substitute for your aurora thing. . . .”

“Sophie!” I said. The machine stepped onto our abandoned vehicle with one large foot, crushing it. The rain grew stronger, pelting us.

“There!” Sophie said.

The tingling washed through me, colder than the rain. It left me awake, excited, changed. It had worked. I could feel that it had worked.

Sophie groaned, and her hand slipped from mine. She slumped toward the ground, but I grabbed her and heaved her onto my shoulder, then ran down the street through the increasingly terrible rain, trying to get some distance between us and the robot.

“Unhand me,” Sophie muttered, dazed. “I’m not some damsel from your barbarian lands. . . .”

I reached a sheltered alleyway out of the robot’s sight, and set her down inside. She was limp, her eyes drooping. “I’m not . . .” she said. “I don’t need to be saved, I . . .”

“Think of it this way,” I said. “Your inner feminist must be going insane at the idea of being rescued.”

“You’re not rescuing me. I rescued you . . . with the magic . . . and . . .” She took a deep breath. “I’ll wait here.”

“Wise choice,” I said, glancing back out toward the street. I could hear the robot’s crunching steps, feel it rattling the windows nearby. I took a deep breath, then strode out onto the street again.

The robot had stooped down and was picking up a vehicle in one enormous hand. It looked back toward me, its red eyes blazing in the rainy night, then hefted the vehicle as if to throw it.

I smiled, heart racing like it hadn’t in centuries, and entered Lancesight.

Energy hung all around me. The ground was alive with it; it pulsed in buildings and from lights. I drew it in, which caused an odd crackling sound. Flooded with strength, I rewove the air to lift me into the sky and form a barrier to protect me.

Nothing happened.

“Aw, hell,” Sophie said from behind.

The robot threw the vehicle—I could see everything outlined in power within Lancesight—and I cursed, throwing myself to the side. I rolled on the wet ground as the vehicle smashed to the street nearby, skidding on the stones.

That left me alive, but dazed on the ground. I shook my head, still in Lancesight, and glanced toward Sophie in the alleyway nearby. She crouched there, one hand on the wall, and to my eyes she was a blazing source of energy.

Wait, that wasn’t right. Why was she glowing?

“The hack slipped, emperor man!” she shouted over the sound of the pelting rain. “I accidentally rewired you to draw upon heat rather than electricity.”

Lords! I shook my head and found my feet. Ahead, the robot approached me, not far away now. I could hear the rain smacking against its metal. I drew in more energy, and I could see that Sophie was right. In Lancesight, I could sense the individual atoms in everything around me. As I drew in strength, they slowed, then stilled. Taking a step caused ice to crack at my foot.

The hack hadn’t worked, and not just in the way she indicated. Every time I tried to use the energy, nothing happened. I could draw it in, but then it just evaporated from me—not even heating the air—and vanished.

The fabric of the State rebelled against me using these powers. That meant no rewriting the air to protect me. No creating lightning to strike down the robot. No magic at all.

The robot was close now, looming overhead, a cold—almost invisible—form to my eyes. As it stepped, it casually slammed a hand to the side, smashing a wall and the people hiding inside.

“It didn’t work!” Sophie called. “We need to go, now.”

People. I could see them easily now, even hidden in rooms, as they were pockets of severe heat in this frigid, rain-slicked land. People huddled on the street. The woman with her daughter had run from the robot, but had fallen to the ground nearby. The child was tugging on her mother’s arm, screaming in terror.

Real people, with emotions, families, loves. And now me. With no safety net. I felt helpless. For the first time in decades, I felt helpless.

It was incredible.

I walked through the rain toward the robot.

“Kai!” Sophie screamed at me.

I raised my hands and drew in energy. It evaporated.