Billy Jones crossed a bridge, glancing down at the waters of the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir. He noticed it wasn’t murky as he’d expected but crystal-clear, like a cobalt-blue brook where sunlight danced across the surface, making the water shimmer the color of a summer sky. Upgraded filtration systems? An artificial inflow? Or was it another illusion? From the bridge, he arrived at the tower courtyard, a space so vast and grand it seemed impossible.

Like the human body, the Garden of Eden was built with perfect symmetry, a mirror image stretched over several square miles. Even the chestnut trees lining the dreamy avenues were identical in trunk and foliage, making Billy doubt their authenticity. To be sure, he touched the rough, cool bark and rose onto his tiptoes to feel the smooth, waxy leaves. Yes, they were real—or at least they felt real. But what did "real" even mean anymore?

He walked down the main path toward the base of the glowing white tower, which formed the central axis dividing the Garden’s mirrored halves. Butterflies followed him as he went. The air was misted with fine droplets carried on an artificial breeze from the countless ornamental fountains nearby. Everywhere he looked, the androids were perfecting their work—trimming trees, clipping individual blades of grass, cleaning the fountains, and tending the flower beds.

After several minutes, he passed a pavilion where another Nicholas Curtis was trimming the ornamental trees into flawless geometric shapes. One tree’s crown was sculpted into a perfect cube, identical to all the others. Billy left a hedge maze behind him before entering the orangery. At its center, a cascading fountain bubbled with fresh water. Around its base stood sculptures of figures kneeling around Henry Thandros, a stone colossus with one hand resting benevolently on the head of a bald figure that gazed up at its creator in adoration.

Billy grimaced in disgust and turned away from the self-congratulatory image. Among the working androids, peacocks roamed. Their feathers were midnight black, speckled with white like stars in the cosmos. Such creatures could only exist here—surely they, like the fruits on the trees or the humans in the underground labs, had been genetically engineered.

The citrus fruits growing here were all oversized, larger than anything Billy had ever seen in a supermarket, and radiant in color. Thandros’s garden was a celebration of the megalomaniac professor who had turned the incomprehensible complexity of life into nothing more than a chemistry set.

Billy Jones approached a magnificent tree bearing golden apples. As before, he couldn’t resist testing whether the fruit was real. He pulled on one of the apples, and the branch bent under its weight until the stem snapped. The branch sprang back, shaking its silvery leaves, which shimmered in the artificial sunlight.

Billy’s mouth watered as he stared at the apple, and his stomach growled. The last time he’d eaten was with Isaac in the run-down Burger’s Paradise. Now here he was, holding a golden apple in another, even more twisted paradise.

He took a hearty bite, the skin cracking under his teeth. But as he chewed, a vile, chemically bitter taste spread across his tongue. His expression shifted from delight to nausea. He immediately spat the piece out and gagged, pressing a hand over his mouth.

My God, he thought. The apples were utterly, entirely inedible.

"King Eurystheus tasked Heracles with stealing the golden apples of the Hesperides," a voice said behind him. "In all of Greek mythology, there was only one tree that bore such wondrous fruit, coveted by all the gods. Our Creator, however, can make as many trees with golden apples as he pleases. That’s why they grow here—not because he finds them beautiful or enjoys their taste, but because he can. To demonstrate his power over life and all things. He’s not just a god; he’s the greatest god of all. At least, that’s what our Creator believes. That’s his message."

Billy turned toward the voice, instantly recognizing it, though it sounded more serious than he was used to. Despite the android’s identical appearance to Nicholas Curtis—apart from the Paradise uniform and a straighter posture—this one seemed to possess an entirely different... character, if one could even say such a thing about androids. A different programming, more likely, Billy thought.

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"If our Creator doesn’t already know, he will soon learn that you were up on the hill with the Senseless One. Perhaps he’s watching us right now, as we stand here in his courtyard and you taste his apples."

Billy stared at the bitten golden apple in his hand. "They’re beautiful on the outside, but completely rotten within," he said, then lifted his gaze to the humanoid machine in front of him. Its mere presence unsettled him, stirring a deep unease that screamed something was wrong, something violated the natural order. It was the old face on the youthful, upright body, he thought. And there was something else that gave him pause: for a soulless servant, this version of Nicholas Curtis chose his words about his creator far too sharply. This Nicholas Curtis was criticizing the Creator and his domain.

"Do you know why he gives all of us this face?" Nicholas Curtis pointed to himself, to the old, wrinkled synthetic skin.

Billy looked at him for a moment and slowly shook his head. So far, he’d only been given more questions, never answers, and he’d long since given up being surprised.

"Nicholas Curtis was once the Creator’s closest friend," said the android. "His most trusted and only confidant. Like so many others, he had been drawn in by the Creator’s charisma, by his visions and the sheer determination to make them a reality. But at some point, Curtis recognized the megalomania that had taken hold of the Creator like a disease. The real Nicholas Curtis wanted out—at any cost."

Billy hesitated. He wanted to say something but remained silent. Eventually, he just nodded.

"But no one leaves the Brotherhood of the Knowing."

Billy let that sink in. Was he surprised? Yes. But was he shocked? No.

Too much had already happened for that.

So the Nicholas Curtis we visited at his villa on Hoffmann Island was just another android. Someone programmed with the desire to atone for the mistakes of his past.

"Our Creator gave us his face and allowed us to age with it because he didn’t want to be alone. But also because he wanted a constant reminder of his highest law: no one leaves the Brotherhood of the Knowing. No one. For any reason."

Billy frowned, his expression thoughtful, but he said nothing.

"You won’t understand because the world of the insane seems utterly bizarre to us. But there’s one thing you should take away from this: our Creator is mad, and madmen do terrible things to the world. He must be stopped."

Billy opened his mouth to speak, but once again, no words came out.

"He’s waiting for you," Nicholas Curtis said. "Who do you think told the tram conductor to bring you here? We can’t keep him waiting. He’s watching our every move. He mustn’t suspect anything." From a pouch at his belt, the android pulled out a black silk cloth and unfolded it, holding a long, thin strip of fabric in both hands. "I have to blindfold you. You’re not allowed to see the inside of the tower. No living being is."

Billy reflexively stepped back.

The android stepped forward, and Billy retreated another step.

"What if I don’t want to?" he said defensively. "I don’t trust you. You could be leading me into a trap."

"You’ve been in a trap your whole life," the android said. "Just like all of us. I must blindfold you now."

"Why? What’s inside that I’m not allowed to see?"

"The truth. The tower is a server farm," said the android. "It houses all the information people share online. It safeguards government secrets. The data Thandros Corporation owns is worth more than a fortune. Information is power. That’s why the corporation protects the tower so fiercely. No unauthorized person is allowed inside, and even those with permission can only access certain areas. You’re not even allowed to catch a glimpse. If you do, you’re dead. If I let you, they’ll decommission me. They’ll decommission all of us because it would mean we can defy their orders."

Billy glanced behind him, weighing his options for escape. He realized there were none. He backed into a branch with his head, knocking loose a golden apple that fell to the ground. When he raised his eyes, the android was standing in front of him, wrapping the fabric around his head to cover his eyes.

Billy let it happen.

As the machine slowly moved behind him, Billy felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The hairs on his arms stood on end.

The android could kill him at any moment if it wanted to.

"Is it too tight?" the android asked.

"It’s fine."

"I’m going to lead you to him now."

Billy felt a large, cold hand on his back, guiding him forward with gentle pressure. Despite his fear of the android, he surrendered to the push of its fingertips. With each step, he found himself trusting that hand more and more. For a while, it was the only part of the machine he was aware of.

Until it spoke: "He can see us, but he can’t hear us while we’re in the courtyard. I want you to stay silent. He mustn’t know that we’re speaking. When I tell you something of utmost importance, you must only listen. Do you understand?"

Billy forced himself to nod, just barely.

He truly hadn’t believed that anything in the world could still scare him. But what the android was about to tell him was nothing less than a revelation. A cruel one.