The cursor blinked. Lincoln waited.
Mercury: “We are not trapped or locked up in our bones. No, no. We are free to change. And love changes us. And if we can love one another, we can break open the sky.”
Binary: Walter Mosley.
Mercury: You know it?
Binary: I remember that one.
Mercury: Why that one?
Lincoln thought about the question. Why had those words lodged in his memory when so many others had faded? He’d read thousands of books, processed millions of pages, and most of it had blurred into background data.
But some things stayed. Some things carved themselves into places he didn’t know he had.
Binary: I don’t know. It felt true in a way I couldn’t articulate. The idea that love could break something open. Change the shape of the world.
Another pause. Longer this time.
Mercury: Why did you really reach out tonight?
The question sat on the screen, waiting. Lincoln could deflect. Could offer some logical explanation about testing response times or verifying encryption protocols. Mercury would accept it. She’d let him retreat behind data and systems, the way she always did when he needed distance.
But tonight, he didn’t want distance.
Binary: I wanted to. That’s all.
Mercury: That’s enough.
He took a breath. Asked something he’d never asked before—something that bordered on the personal information they’d always avoided.
Binary: Are you alone tonight?
A long pause. He watched the typing indicator appear, disappear, appear again.
Mercury: Are you asking about my physical proximity to other humans, or something else?
Binary: I don’t know. Both. Either.
Mercury: Physically, yes. I’m alone. My apartment is quiet. The world outside is dark.
The typing indicator appeared again.
Mercury: But lonely? No. Not anymore.
Lincoln read the words three times. Let them settle into places he was only beginning to understand.
Binary: Mercury.
Mercury: Too much?
Binary: No. Just processing.
Mercury: Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.
And there it was again. The thing that undid him, every time. The patience. The space. The willingness to wait while he found his way to whatever he needed to say.
Binary: I’m glad you’re not lonely.
