Warcross (Warcross, #1)

by Marie Lu

Everyone has a different way of escaping the dark stillness of their mind. This, I learned, was mine.

But sometimes, people kick you to the ground at recess because they think the shape of your eyes is funny. They lunge at you because they see a vulnerable body. Or a different skin color. Or a difficult name. They think that you won’t hit back—that you’ll just lower your eyes and hide. And sometimes, to protect yourself, to make it go away, you do. But sometimes, you find yourself standing in exactly the right position, wielding exactly the right weapon to hit back. So I hit. I hit fast and hard and furious. I hit with nothing but the language whispered between circuits and wire, the language that can bring people to their knees. And in spite of everything, I’d do it all over again.

“Everything’s science fiction until someone makes it science fact,”

It is hard to describe loss to someone who has never experienced it, impossible to explain all the ways it changes you. But for those who have, not a single word is needed.

“What about protestors?” I press. “What about fighting for what’s right or making mistakes or even just respecting people who disagree with you? Is it going to stop people from passing laws that are unjust? What laws is it going to enforce, exactly?” I clench my fists. “How is your artificial intelligence capable of judging everyone in the world, or understanding why they do what they do? How do you know you won’t go too far? You aren’t going to bring about world peace all by yourself.”