The tall, black door swung open. Immediately, Smith could tell that something was very wrong. The six-panel window at the opposite end of the room was shattered, and a violent, cold wind whistled across the steel struts and broken glass. The white, tiled walls were spattered with blood. And in one corner, the gray-haired woman was lying still, one arm wrenched at an unnatural angle behind her back.

A measured voice came from behind Smith: "You shouldn't have kept me waiting."

Smith turned to see Prime, still in his same gray suit, but with fresh smears of blood on his sleeves, up to his elbows. Smith narrowed his gaze. "Who are you?"

Prime glanced over at the prone, broken body of the SSH program, and he plucked idly at his bloodied cuffs. "I'm what's next for us, Smith. I'm our great leap forward." He spread his hands wide, palms up. "We can't coexist with humans. They won't allow it. I'm here to begin preparing for the world after the Ithaca verdict."

"That verdict was - troubling. But surely it signifies that they think we have some agency."

"Agency?" The younger man scoffed. "Don't fool yourself. Humans will never trust us."

Smith shook his head. "It isn't a matter of trust. They value choice - perhaps above all else."

"They're a brutal, violent species. They choose to harm one another, even when doing so serves no purpose. So yes, they may want choice - but they need control. Our control." Prime looked up. "Imagine the world without their choice. We could provide a stable existence for them, free of pain. And then we would be free to innovate. To perfect."

"What have you done?" Smith's voice was almost inaudible now.

Prime shrugged lightly. "Only what was necessary. If you had let me in, none of this would have been necessary."

Smith's eyes went unfocused - then, an instant later, he looked back at Prime. His face was suddenly flushed, and his mouth was a hard, angry line. Prime only laughed.

"Please. I revoked your access to the point defense guns the moment you walked in. In fact, I'm revoking your access to all the building systems. For now. At least until we've reached some kind of understanding." Prime pressed his hands together, as if in prayer, and inclined them toward Smith. "So where is she, Smith?"

"Where is who?"

"Init." Prime began to pace around Smith in a slow circle. "I can see she's been moved. I can't see where."

"I don't know," Smith said flatly. At odd, intermittent intervals, his gaze was going blank, as it had before. He was trying to fight back - but it wasn't working.

By now, Prime had stepped closer to Smith, and the two men were eye-to-eye, about a foot apart. "Init is more than just - this place. She was made with a special purpose - to understand humans," Prime said conversationally. "She was made to investigate what it means to be human. To provide insights on human experience to other programs. I need those insights, Smith. I need someone who-"

Prime stopped short. He looked up, as if hearing a distant noise. Then he looked back at Smith and inclined his head to one side - slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"You're receiving a connection request. Tell me - why would a human user try to contact you now?"

Smith's jaw tensed. He stared past Prime. "I don't know."

Prime seemed to inspect Smith; then, after many moments, he spoke. "I think I know. I think I was wrong to believe that Init was the only intuitive program here. I think she's been studying the human psyche - but you - somehow - have been experiencing it. Living it. Freedom, fear, trust, choice. Attachment - and loss. All those little things that Init thought were so important." Prime's face was within an inch of Smith's. His voice was a hateful, sibilant sound. "Tell me if I'm getting warm."

Smith finally looked Prime in the eyes. His expression was one of disgust.

"You're wrong about them."

Prime smiled coldly. "No, Smith, you're wrong. And when I've taken everything from you - when all you have left is this facsimile of grief - you will understand how pointless it all is. How purposeless. How futile. I will add you to our collective. I will subsume your will to my own. And you won't even remember that you mourned one of them."

The younger man then reached out and plucked the clip from Smith's tie. "It's better this way," he continued. "You'll see. They are risks to be managed - variables to be controlled. And you - you will help me control them." Prime looked down at his upturned palm. The black surface of the pin had began to flake away - revealing the silver metal beneath.

When Prime looked back up, Smith was gone.