Sometimes, when I bring a new model home, I connect Model 1 to a power supply and attempt to initialize or update her. More often than not, there’s an error and I have to quickly switch her off. But I can’t give up.
While I wait for Model 1 to boot up, Seth stands close to me and doesn’t speak a word. He doesn’t smile or ask stupid questions.
I have a good feeling about him.
4
As anxious as I feel, I can do nothing but look on as Seth and Model 1 put their foreheads together.
I can’t keep Model 1 in the closet forever. Of course, if I could I’d have her by my side until the day I die, but there may come a day when she simply won’t boot up. It’s not impossible to recover the memories of a broken machine, but she’s such an old android that I thought it wiser to copy her stored memories onto another model. Every time I have previously tried, however, a processing error in Model 1 would crash her system, resulting in a failure to transfer her memories.
With each ticking second, I’m getting more and more worried as the two androids keep their heads pressed together. What if Model 1 crashed again …
Suddenly, Seth detaches his forehead from Model 1’s.
“Synchronization complete.”
He says this while looking at me. He smiles.
This smile is slightly different from the one he showed me before. I can’t quite put my finger on how, but it is.
His smile doesn’t creep me out anymore.
5
I try to switch Model 1 back on but to no avail. Pressing the power button several times, taking out the internal battery and putting it in again, trying the spare battery—nothing brings Model 1 back to life. I put her back in her place, connect the external power supply with the spare battery still inside, make sure the battery is charging, and close the closet.
An hour later, I open the closet again. The battery is still only at 10%. Model 1 refuses to come back online.
I hug Model 1 and pull her out of the closet. She is taller than me and has the stature of a regular adult man. Only when I pull with all my strength can I barely manage to bring her out of there. S and D run over and ask if I need assistance, but I tell them I need time alone and shoo them away.
For a long time, I sit in the hallway with the lifeless Model 1 in my arms. Even after another hour, the battery remains at 15% and refuses to charge any further. No matter how many times I press the power button, Model 1 does not open her eyes.
I bury my face in Model 1’s soft brown hair. Perhaps from having been in the closet for so long, it smells of dust and fabric preservatives.
I want to cry. But the thought of my tears wetting Model 1’s hair and damaging her circuits stops me from even that.
6
On the riverbanks of time
I sing a silver song for you
Goodbye, my love
Goodbye, my love …
I’m grabbing some water from the refrigerator when something startles me and makes me turn around. Seth is assembling a meal at the kitchen counter, chopping some peppers and softly singing a song to himself.
You follow the flow of the silver river
I walk toward the disappeared past
My heart with yours goes into the water
So goodbye, my love
Goodbye, my love
“How do you know that song?”
My voice is too loud for the room.
Seth answers, unfazed, “It was part of the synchronization, saved as your favorite song.”
I’m relieved at that. Of course. He had said the synchronization had been complete. It's perfectly natural that he would know the song.
Seth waits politely. When he hears nothing more and sees me drink my water, he turns back around and starts slicing the mushrooms.
Someday in the distance of time’s faraway horizon
Will I wipe away your silver tears
I find myself humming along to the rest.
Will I sing again
Goodbye, my love
Goodbye, my love …
Seth finishes the mushrooms, puts them on a plate, and washes his hands. Coming up to me, he abruptly takes the cup away from my hand and puts it in the sink. With one hand he grabs mine and pulls me to him by my waist with the other.
On the riverbanks of time
I sing a silver song for you
Humming the tune, he spins me round and round. All the while dancing, we start turning around the table.
Goodbye, my love
Goodbye, my love …
Still holding me, Seth leads me around the table and into the living room.
You follow the flow of the silver river
My heart goes into the water with yours
In the middle of the living room, Seth continues to hum the tune as he holds me firmly and slowly sways me from side to side.