Chương 14
Everyone turned.
She looked embarrassed that she had spoken.
"Not because we were wrong about what happened."
Her eyes stayed on the X9.
"Because we kept saying things we couldn't prove exactly."
Nathan's expression softened slightly.
"What did you say?"
"That they covered it up."
"And?"
"Their lawyers asked covered up what, by whom, when, with what specific act."
She let out a breath.
"We had a hurt child and a machine that had locked twice."
"We thought that should be enough."
Miriam said, "Usually it isn't."
Danielle looked toward the phone.
"I know that now."
Owen rolled farther into the kitchen.
"Can we turn it off for real?"
Sam nodded.
"Now we can."
He photographed the current device state, recorded the local logs, then disconnected the external battery and opened the communications panel only after documenting the tamper seals.
Inside, beside the Wi-Fi module, sat a small embedded cellular modem.
Nathan stared at it.
"The purchase paperwork never mentioned that."
I said, "The clinical manual doesn't either."
Sam photographed the modem identifier.
"Could be documented in technical materials."
"Could be."
Nathan caught himself.
He actually smiled.
"Look at me learning."
Nobody laughed much.
Sam removed the modem's power connector but left the hardware in place.
Then he imaged the system again.
The visible event table remained stripped.
The raw telemetry partition was larger than before.
"Why?"
I asked.
"Because the remote session generated new logs."
"Can we see them?"
"Not cleanly yet."
He pointed at several encrypted containers.
"I don't want to poke around live."
Miriam said, "Good."
Nathan sat heavily at the kitchen table.
"What happens next?"
Miriam answered.
"I send a preservation notice to StrideCore immediately."
"For everything."
"For specific categories."
"Why not everything?"
"Because vague demands are easier to fight."
She began listing items.
Deployment records for build 7E.
Remote service logs tied to Owen's unit.
Token authentication records.
Cellular session logs.
Internal incident references connected to 22-0417.
MedAxis legacy fault reports.
Change history for pediatric load-variance thresholds.
Nathan wrote as she spoke.
I watched him.
Two days earlier, he would have tried to turn that list into a command.
Now he wrote carefully and asked, "Anything else?"
Miriam said, "Yes."
"Internal communications discussing Owen's reports or eligibility classification."
My stomach tightened.
Nathan looked at me.
"If those exist."
"They should if someone reviewed him manually."
Sam shook his head.
"Unless the deployment was automated."
"Then I want classification rules."
Miriam paused.
"Good."
Nathan seemed surprised she had agreed.
She added, "Do not enjoy that."
Owen rolled to the refrigerator.
He opened it, stared inside, and said, "There's nothing."
Nathan looked over.
"There is an entire refrigerator of food."
"Nothing good."
Danielle laughed.
It came out unexpectedly loud.
She covered her mouth.
"Sorry."
Owen shrugged.
"It's true."
The absurdity of the moment broke something open.
Nathan stood and made grilled cheese sandwiches.
Sam kept working.
Danielle sat at the table.
I helped Owen cut an apple because his grip had become tired.
For twenty minutes, nobody talked about defective machines or lawyers.
Nathan burned one sandwich and ate it himself.
Danielle asked Owen whether he liked basketball.
He said only if watching counted.
She told him Caleb liked wheelchair tennis but hated wearing sunscreen.
Owen said sunscreen smelled like a doctor's office.
I told him that made no sense.
He told me neither did raisins.
The world continued.
That was almost painful.
After lunch, Miriam called back.
"I have a problem."
Nathan stopped clearing plates.
"What kind?"
"StrideCore's counsel responded to the preservation notice."
"Already?"
"Yes."
"What did they say?"
"They deny any intentional deletion or alteration of safety records."
Nathan looked at Sam.
"We didn't accuse them of intentional deletion."
"No."
Miriam's voice sharpened.
"They also say the remote cellular session was an automated maintenance routine triggered by repeated communication failures."
Sam leaned toward the phone.
"That fast?"
"They claim it is standard."
"Did they explain why event references disappeared?"
"They say status tables may refresh after synchronization and should not be interpreted as permanent data loss."
Nathan laughed.
"They have an answer for everything."
Miriam said, "That's what corporate counsel gets paid for."
I asked, "What about build 7E?"
"They describe it as an approved limited deployment configuration."
Danielle's face changed.
"Approved by whom?"
Miriam continued.
"They refused to answer without a formal discovery process."
Nathan put the plate down.
"So they admit it was limited."
"They admit the configuration was not necessarily fleet-wide."
Sam said, "That's meaningful."
"Yes."
Nathan looked at Owen.
"Did they say whether I consented?"
"No."
"Did they say whether Lauren's reports triggered eligibility?"
"No."
"Did they say why the left knee threshold changed?"
"No."
Each answer made him quieter.
Miriam added, "Victor also requested a direct meeting."
Nathan's head lifted.
"No."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because I'm done listening to him tell me what almost happened doesn't matter."
Miriam said, "He wants counsel present."
Nathan hesitated.
"That changes things."
"Potentially."
"When?"
"Tomorrow morning."
Danielle stood.
"I should go."
Nathan looked at her.
"You don't have to."
"I do."
She pulled her rain shell tighter.
"I've already said more than I planned."
Miriam said, "Call me from your car."
Danielle nodded.
At the door, Owen said, "Can Caleb text me?"
Nathan looked at me.
I looked at Danielle.
Danielle smiled.
"Tell him I have questions about forearm crutches."
"And tell him I don't want the robot."
Danielle's smile faded.
After she left, the house felt larger.
Sam packed his equipment but left one encrypted drive with Miriam's instructions that Nathan lock it in a fire-resistant safe.
"Don't plug it into anything."
Nathan nodded.
"Don't copy it."
"I heard you."
"Don't label it 'robot evidence.'"
Nathan stared at him.
"I wasn't going to."
"You thought about it."
"I hate you."
"Healthy."
Sam left.
Owen went upstairs to rest.
For the first time all day, Nathan and I were alone.
He stood at the sink washing the same plate for too long.
I said, "You're going to the meeting."
May you like
"Probably."
"Why?"
