But she wasn’t with me on the morning I woke up in the ocean. She was right here, on this island with Hero while I was busy drowning, time unaccounted for, between me passing out and me waking up to find Leona gone.
I bite my lip. “Hero got rid of Leona.”
“Agree.”
“You let him.”
“Agree.”
Betrayed by my own bot. “But why?” I’m not angry. How could I be? My whole mission to build a boat and leave this island was fabricated. It’s good that Hero dumped Leona into the sea, even if he didn’t do it intentionally. It’s just … I remember my panic. The gritty bite of despair, like sand in places I cannot reach. The pain of losing Leona after losing Hubert … all for nothing.
“Why?” I ask again.
U-me whirs.
I turn my direct question into a statement. “You wanted me to stay.”
“Strongly agree.”
My chest tightens. “I’m staying,” I say, first to U-me, earning myself a “strongly agree.” Then I say it to this house. “I’m staying,” I say for a third time, to myself.
I’m not going anywhere.
A tug in my gut.
This is my home.
The tug turns into sharp, stabbing pain.
My family.
I double over, teeth gritted, one hand pressed against my stomach as if to hold in my innards, the other scrabbling at the doorknob.
The next thing I know, I’ve gotten it open. I’m sprinting over the sand. I’m jerking to a stop short of the surf, my muscles twitching against what I want and what my body’s been tricked into wanting. I fall to my hands and knees, gridlocked. The day’s a windy one. Dry sand peppers the bottoms of my bare feet. When the tide rushes in, the foam nearly meets my fingertips.
Find me.
I scramble back and claw my broken fingernails into the sand. This can’t be the rest of my life. It just can’t. I try to remember what Kay explained to me, how my happiness levels determine whether the “Find me” command is released. I think back to all the suffering I’ve endured on this island.
The pain in my gut fades.
I think of Hero. Of U-me. Of simple joys, like watching a sunset or eating a taro biscuit. I think of the moments and memories I’ve made that can truly be called my own, and the pain reignites. The false memories bleed into the real ones.
How sick—that my happiness should be the meterstick. But I can adapt. I switch between recalling suffering and joy until my body adjusts to the seesawing physical reactions. I can’t stop the pain, but I can stop myself from bending to its will.
I’m sweaty and hollowed out by the time I feel ready to return to the house. I crawl back onto the couch, where Hero’s still sleeping, and curl beside him, letting the rhythm of his breathing be a metronome to my own.
Please, I think as I shut my heavy eyelids and tuck my aching hands into my elbows. Let me sleep without dreaming.
And thankfully, I do.
When I wake, I’m still on the couch. The space beside me is empty. The blanket is tucked up to my chin, slipping off as I pull myself up. A broken fingernail catches on a carpet fiber and I wince—then sniff the air.
Something’s cooking.
I pad into the kitchen and am greeted by the sight of pots and pans bubbling on the stove, an array of taros on the chopping board, and Hero wearing a slate-blue V-neck sweater and a rooster-print apron, hopping around U-me with a pot in one hand.
“Morning,” he says when he sees me by the doorway. “Or should I say, ‘Evening.’”
I stick out my tongue, then wave a hand at all the dishes on the table. “What gives?”
“It’s—no, U-me!”
U-me knocks into a pot handle, and soup pours like lava from the stove to the ground.
“I got it,” says Hero, righting the overturned pot and placing it into the sink while throwing a towel over the mess. “Sit. It’s your welcome-back meal.”
Welcome-back meal. Hero pulls out a chair for me. I sink in. Smile, despite the tinny, mocking voice in the back of my mind. Welcome back to the island! Your life is a lie! And now you’re deceiving the only other person who deserves to know! Hooray! “You didn’t have to, love.”
“I wanted to.” Hero passes over a bowl of mashed taro, and again, a memory of eating fancy mashed potatoes with Kay resurfaces—except now I remember we did it in holo. The food was as fake as these recollections. And this food before me might as well be fake too. I don’t need to eat it to survive. In fact, I bet if I stopped eating and “starved,” then my wired need to find Kay would abate. Conditions no longer habitable: Cancel command.