April awoke strapped to the chair that Delta was born into. They wrapped several screens around her.
“Good—you’re awake,” Ash said.
April tried to look but couldn’t turn her head. “What do you want?” she asked.
“First, we need to see what you know about interfacing with neural networks,” the woman’s voice droned on.
April squirmed in the chair, trying to break free. “Why are you doing this . . . What did I do wrong?”
April heard sounds of . . . preparation: the shuffling of feet, and the slight tap of instruments against the metal of an equipment tray. The tears of fearful anticipation were coming . . . she couldn’t stop it. She wept uncontrollably.
“Are you done with your tantrum?” the voice said.
Ash came into April’s view. She spoke as if April wasn’t there.
“Delta 51 shows sign
