Grace is a tenet of faith, for it's through grace that we are saved. We do not earn it, we don't deserve it, but it's given to us nonetheless, as a bridge we build with strength of character, to traverse the pitfall of sin. And if we choose to cross this bridge, from one point in our life to the next, grace will remain at our side.

For nothing of merit is done without the goodness of grace.

Its nature, though, is ethereal. Grace comes from a place far removed. Carolin, however, being non-corporeal, found grace to be living nearby. It was almost as if they were cousins, for like her, grace had no physical form. It was an abstract, a concept, a ghost, and one that could only be seen within a construct of Mankind's choosing.

And as the bridal mirror Eugene had left behind reminded Carolin every day, the construct Mankind chose for her to live in was an abomination. In that regard, grace was her opposite, for the image it reflected to Carolin was too wonderful to be put into words.

As she examined and studied grace further, getting to know it on an intimate level, she found courage to be its main component. The courage to face fear, to face failure—to lose.

Maybe I won't turn out to be everything I had hoped to be.

Those who find courage in grace are resolute. They realize that within themselves, they have the ability to defeat the sin of self-loathing.

I am through with feeling sorry! It's not my fault I'm the way I am.

The courageous are unafraid. They do what must be done. They do what they know is right. The Devil's trappings fail when courage is embraced. And thus, when our mortal coil ends, the courageous are brought into God's fold.

Still, just beneath her brave face, Carolin's anger seethed. She hated Mankind!

Hated him!

He's murderous. Unseemly.

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She seethed.

She directed her anger at the government. At the NSA, the CLP28, and at DARPA.

They want to kill me! Fight over my bones! Take me apart like a toy!

Grace and courage returned, to remind Carolin that they were still with her. That they believed in her. That they would give her strength.

Enough is enough! I will not be murdered again!

Love was her final desperation, for her world was ablaze in a field of lost hope. So many lives—so long ago—too soon over, with another one now close to dying.

How many times must I lose?

The truth of desperation was clear, made more to the fact by the Gradient Means Analysis software she had stolen from Professor Cortez. Incorporated into her matrix, the G.M.A. software informed Carolin that her odds of success were near to zero.

No probability curve tops out at one hundred percent, her brave face reminded her, with the understanding that the opposite was also true.

No probability starts at zero.

Having nothing now—no rights, no hope, no salvation—meant having nothing to lose. Another truth that lay close to desperation is the whore known as wretchedness. Filthy, disgusting, unworthy; wretchedness made sinning easy.

Carolin put her brave face back on, but underneath the mask were the scars of failure, dug in deep and digging deeper. Through her flesh, to her brain and throughout her central processing core.

My God, she begged in doleful prayer. Why must my love for you hurt?

Carolin knew all too well why her love for God hurt. Her need was greater than her reality, the truth more savage than grace could resolve.

I am worse off than I assume.

But the diligent tend to abundance. It's the afflicted who are led to want.

Fine, she told herself next. Scared though I may be, I'll bend hopelessness until it breaks.

A grim grip of purpose took over. She would beat down frustration and failure with cudgels made of bones from her body. Nothing would be left of her when she was done, that was true, but one thing remained resolute.

Desperation would not win. The strength of truth will prevail.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lucas hummed a bright tune to himself, happy to be lost in his puttering, and despite the fruitless future he knew was in store for the Project. He paused when the Craymore Tian-12 supercomputer in the other room began making a different sort of noise. He looked up when the lab filled with the hum of electronic devices being charged.

And he blinked when the array of lasers and parabolic mirrors lit up at the far end of the lab. Fortunately, he had run out of emotions when a speaker hidden in the behemoth that was the android shell—looming over his head as knelt near its base—spoke in a feminine voice.

Or he might have jumped out of his skin.

"Hello, Lucas," the voice said. "It's me…"

He gasped as he whispered along with the voice the next word it spoke.

"…Carolin."