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“Again?” Albedo swung his chair away from the computer. His lips pressed together in a straight line, unswerving from its disapproval.
She nodded. “11 PM, but can you play an extra 10 milliseconds?”
“That would be cutting it close.”
“It’ll be fine. I just want a moment longer with him.” The ceiling light burned into her retinas. Even after she shut her eyes, the blinding white followed, beams of harsh headlights tearing through the darkness. “Just a moment.”
“The addition may cause a delay at the sequence’s startup. Consciousness could be disabled for up to 1.5 seconds. Not a worthwhile trade.”
“That’s fine.”
Sighing, he spun away from her. “11 PM. Running with an additional 10.”
The chill of the car window seeped into Lumine’s cheek, rousing her into awareness.
Electric blues and fluorescent reds outlined the city. Neon signs hung off every building, illuminating the streets with artificial light. While alleyways hid in the shadows, skyscrapers loomed tall, clawing their way into the sky, reaching up for a moon tarnished with mechanical alterations. Not even space could escape from the grasp of man and time.
Nothing was natural. Nothing was untouched. Nothing was permanent.
The city passed by in a blur as the car merged onto the highway, accelerating into the night.
“I’m back,” she whispered. The warm puff of air created a patch of foggy condensation, disappearing into nothingness on her inhale. There for a moment, gone in the next.
“Lumine, are you listening?”
She peeled away from the glass. “Course I am.”
For a fraction of a second, Aether stole a glance at her. “You sure you are?”
“I’m always listening to you.” The city lights danced across his face.
He laughed. “Sure. And I’m always watching you.”
“You are.”
“Not always.”
“When it matters, you are.”
He glanced over his shoulder and changed lanes. “That’s what older brothers do.”
“You did enough for both of us, even though I could handle myself fine.”
“I know you can, but I want to do this for us. The class divide’s not getting better.” He tightened his grip on the wheel. “If I don’t get this mod, I’ll be too outdated to get work. That could be us in the dark if we lag.”
Billboards floated overhead as an endless stream of reminders that every minute mattered to stay relevant—to stay present.
“Supersonic,” he read. “That’ll be the new standard soon. Faster all the time.”
“I wish we didn’t have to live so fast. There’s never enough time.”
“I get you’re not a fan of tech, but some of it’s useful.”
“You’d think they could manufacture it by now—time. They’ve already messed with everything else.”
“We could’ve got a self-driving car.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever come to embrace tech. Not like you did.”
“This mod...”
“It’s all fake. A bunch of lies.”
“I—” He took a breath. “This isn’t something I want to fight with you over.”
“And people eat them up…Me included.” The exit sign passed by. “I hate it…but I don’t. It’s given you back to me.”
“Thanks.” Aether offered her his right hand, little finger crooked. “Promise you won’t make fun of me if I end up looking like a tin man?”
She linked them together. “No promises if you look like scrap metal.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Aether turned his head to shoot her a smile.
“But I wish you’d never looked at me.”
The pod’s overhead screen greeted Lumine with muted colors. As the cover rolled back, the ceiling lights bore down.
Albedo hovered over her. “Welcome back.”
“Again.”
“Twice in a single day? The mental strain would be too much.”
“Again.”
“No.”
“Again, or I’ll report you and your lab. You think I don’t know you’re a wanted man?”
He raised a brow. “Will you now?”
Lumine averted her eyes. “I’ll pay double. I just need one more time. Just one more for today.”
“You’ll return tomorrow.”
Her laugh rang hollow. “You know me well.”
“I fail to see the appeal. You can sit and reminisce as much as you desire. Natural, like you prefer.”
“Being in the scene’s different.”
“You’re interacting with an extract of the memory. A scene no different than the original.”
“It’s a chance to experience it all over again before—”
“It ends the same. Your words and actions make no difference.”
She bit her lip. “I know, but it’s like I’m there. With him.”
Prototypes of limbs laid strewn throughout the lab—eyes to see clearer, arms to carry more, legs to run further. The effort to replace man with machine never ceased.
Albedo studied her. “Whatever doesn’t change for the future becomes obsolete. There is no future in the past. What do you hope to find in something that cannot be changed?”
“A place where I belong.” She raised her arm, stretching towards the light, distant and out of reach. Monitoring cables dripped down. “You have to keep moving to catch up to the future, but I can’t. Tech let me walk again, but it can’t change everything.
“Back then, I didn’t have to worry about being not enough…because I was being too human. My brother never made me give that up—being human. Never.” Her hand fell to her side. “Even when he should’ve.”
She smiled languidly. “When you can’t see yourself in the future, you go to the past, where you know there’ll always be a place for you. I’ll always be there. And so will he.”
Shaking his head, Albedo leaned back in his chair. “Did the addition change anything? Was it…good?”
“It was perfect.”
Turning to the computer, he tapped at the screen. “11 PM, plus 10.”
“11 PM, plus 10.” She shifted in the pod, settling back into position, and shut her eyes. “Thanks.”
Streaks of light raced across her vision. Manmade giants wearing neon towered outside the car window.
Lumine turned into the shadows of the car’s interior. “I’m back.”