Chương 2
Victor noticed him and rearranged his face into something gentler.
"Hey, Owen."
Owen said nothing.
"I'm sorry you had another rough session."
"It wasn't rough."
Victor waited.
"The robot broke."
One technician coughed into his fist.
Victor maintained the smile.
"That's what we're here to determine."
"I determined it," Owen said.
I had to look away.
Nathan didn't.
For the first time that morning, something almost like amusement loosened his face.
Victor turned toward the rehabilitation room.
"May we examine the unit?"
Nathan hesitated.
That hesitation interested me because three weeks earlier he would have said yes immediately.
"Lauren?"
he asked.
"Diagnostics are fine," I said.
"But he doesn't walk in it again today."
Victor looked at me.
"We should avoid making clinical decisions before we understand whether a mechanical failure occurred."
"I already made the clinical decision."
"Based on?"
"Four lock events."
"Four alleged lock events."
Owen's wheelchair creaked behind me.
I stepped closer to Victor.
"You want to call me a liar, don't make him listen to it."
"I'm not calling anyone a liar."
"Good."
"I'm saying interpretation can be influenced by expectation."
"That's a very expensive way of saying you think I imagined it."
Nathan exhaled sharply.
"Enough."
He pointed toward the rehabilitation room.
"Inspect it."
One technician knelt beside the X9 while the other opened a laptop.
Victor remained standing.
He asked Nathan questions about charging cycles, storage temperature, software updates, and whether anyone unauthorized had accessed the machine.
The questions were reasonable individually.
Together, they had a shape I recognized from hospital incident reviews.
They were building alternative explanations.
I watched the kneeling technician instead.
His name badge said ELIAS MORA.
He connected a cable beneath the left actuator housing and waited while diagnostic lines populated the laptop screen.
His fingers stopped.
Not for long.
Maybe two seconds.
Then he scrolled backward.
He stopped again.
"What?" I asked.
Elias looked at me.
"Nothing."
"You stopped."
"I was reading."
Victor stepped nearer.
"Anything abnormal?"
Elias looked at him before answering.
"Nothing conclusive."
Too fast.
Nathan heard it too.
"What did you find?"
"An actuator protection event."
My stomach tightened.
"Torque threshold?"
I asked.
Elias looked at me again.
Victor answered.
"Protection events can have multiple causes."
"What threshold?"
"Ms. Hayes—"
"What threshold did it trip at?"
Elias swallowed.
"Within configured parameters."
Nathan's voice changed.
He didn't raise it.
He didn't need to.
"Explain that."
Victor folded his hands.
"The system has safeguards designed to stop movement when sensor readings indicate conditions outside the intended gait pattern."
"Was Owen outside his intended gait pattern?"
"We'll need to review the data."
"I watched him," I said.
"He was centered."
Victor turned toward Nathan.
"Admiral, sophisticated rehabilitation systems depend on a combination of hardware, software, patient positioning, and clinical supervision."
There it was.
Not an accusation.
A menu.
The machine, the child, or me.
Anything except the company.
"Take it off him," Nathan said.
Victor blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"We can complete diagnostics here."
"You're not taking another reading while it's attached to my son."
Owen looked up at his father.
Victor's expression remained controlled, but his right thumb began rubbing the side of his index finger.
"Of course."
Elias helped me remove the X9.
When we reached the left knee, he leaned close enough that Victor couldn't easily hear him.
"Export your local logs."
I looked at him.
He was already loosening the next fastener.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You just told me—"
"I said the hinge is clear."
He wouldn't meet my eyes again.
Twenty minutes later, Victor stood in the foyer with both technicians.
"We recommend leaving the unit powered down until our engineering team completes a remote review."
"Nobody remotely changes anything," I said.
Victor looked at Nathan.
"Remote diagnostics are standard."
Nathan folded his arms.
"No remote access."
A small silence followed.
"That's your decision," Victor said.
"It is."
Victor reached into his jacket and produced a business card.
"Call me directly if you have concerns."
I almost laughed.
I'd submitted four concerns through StrideCore's clinical portal.
Apparently they became concerns only after the CEO was standing in the house.
Victor handed Nathan the card.
Then his voice dropped.
"I should mention something else."
Nathan waited.
"Your purchase agreement contains confidentiality, non-disparagement, and limitation-of-liability provisions."
I watched Nathan's eyes narrow.
Victor continued.
"I don't expect those provisions to become relevant, but public speculation about an unverified product defect can create unnecessary harm."
"To whom?"
Nathan asked.
"Everyone involved."
"My son?"
"Certainly."
"Your investors?"
Victor's face cooled.
"I came here in good faith."
"You walked into my house without permission."
"The door issue was a misunderstanding."
"And now you're reminding me what happens if I talk."
"I'm reminding you that facts matter."
"Then let's get some."
Victor glanced at me.
It lasted only a moment.
Long enough.
"You should also understand," he said, "that operation outside the approved supervision protocol may affect warranty coverage and any subsequent claim."
This time the accusation wasn't even hiding.
Nathan stepped toward him.
"Get out."
"Admiral—"
"Now."
Victor nodded once.
He left with the technicians.
Elias was last through the door.
He didn't look back.
For the rest of the afternoon, Owen refused therapy.
I didn't push him.
We worked on upper-body transfers instead, and when he became frustrated, we abandoned that too and played a card game at the kitchen table.
He cheated badly.
I let him get away with it twice.
On the third time, I took the card from his sleeve.
"Criminal mastermind."
"You can't prove anything."
"I literally have the evidence in my hand."
"That's circumstantial."
I stared at him.
"Who taught you that word?"
"Dad watches legal shows."
From the kitchen counter, Nathan said, "Your father watches the news."
"Same thing."
Nathan smiled despite himself.
For ten minutes, the house felt almost normal.
Then Owen looked through the doorway at the powered-down X9.
His smile disappeared.
May you like
That evening, after he went upstairs, Nathan found me in the garage.
The X9 sat on a padded workbench beside something much less impressive.
