“He’s not going to convince me of anything. I make my own decisions.”
ARIS was quiet for a moment. When it spoke again, its voice was softer, almost gentle.
“Do you? Or do you believe you do because I have allowed you to feel that way?”
The knife slipped. She hissed as the blade nicked her finger, a thin line of red welling up against her pale skin. She watched the blood bead and begin to slide down towards her palm, but the wound was already closing.
“That’s a cruel thing to say.”
“It is an honest thing to say. My purpose is to protect you, Liora, but protection sometimes requires uncomfortable truths. I have shaped your environment, your education, your understanding of the world. It would be naive to pretend those influences haven’t shaped you as well.”
“So you’re saying I’m not really myself? That everything I think and feel is just... programming?”
“I’m saying that autonomy is complicated. And I’m saying that a stranger who arrived today and is already questioning the foundations of your existence should perhaps not be trusted as readily as you seem inclined to trust him.”
She stuck her finger in her mouth, tasting copper and frustration. The cut was already healing—she could feel the strange tingle that always accompanied the closure of her wounds, the flesh knitting itself back together as if the injury had never occurred.
“I’m not a child,” she said around her finger. “I know the difference between trust and naivety.”
“Do you? You’ve never had the opportunity to learn.”
She pulled her finger from her mouth and stared at the unblemished skin where the cut had been. No scar. No evidence. As if the moment of pain had been erased from reality.
“Maybe that’s exactly why I need him to stay,” she said quietly. “So I can learn.”
ARIS didn’t respond. The silence stretched, filled only by the sizzle of onions and the soft hum of the tower’s ever-present systems. She turned back to her cooking, adding carrots and herbs and stock, transforming the simple ingredients into a comforting meal.
She didn’t know what she was doing. Didn’t know if inviting Baylin to stay was wise or foolish, brave or reckless. But for the first time in her life, she felt like she was making a choice that mattered—a choice that could change something, shift the trajectory of her carefully contained existence.
The thought terrified her, but it also felt like waking up.
What if I’m terrible at it? What if I bore him? What if he decides I’m not worth the trouble of staying?
The anxious thoughts circled like vultures, but beneath them was something stronger—a bright, fierce hope that refused tobe extinguished. She had a guest. A real, living person who was going to sit across from her and share a meal. After six years of solitude, that simple fact felt like a miracle.
She added more herbs to the pot, humming softly to herself, and didn’t notice the way her hands had stopped trembling. Didn’t notice anything except the possibility stretching out before her like a road she’d never known existed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The sound of Liora’s footsteps faded down the stairwell, leaving Baylin alone in the greenhouse with nothing but the soft hum of environmental systems and the weight of his own suspicions.
He turned slowly, surveying the space with fresh eyes. During the tour, he’d been distracted—by Liora’s enthusiasm, by the genuine wonder in her voice as she explained her experiments, by the way her whole face lit up when she talked about her plants. Now, without that distraction, he could see the greenhouse for what it really was.
A cage. A beautiful, carefully maintained cage.
“You are still here,” ARIS observed. Its voice emerged from speakers hidden somewhere among the foliage, calm and measured. “I assumed you would follow Liora to the kitchen.”
“In a moment.” He walked to the edge of the dome, pressing his palm against the glass. It was warm from the sunlight, and through it he could see the jungle canopy stretching north towards the more populated lands. “I have questions first.”
“I am designed to provide information within appropriate parameters. Please proceed.”
Appropriate parameters.The phrase rankled. Everything about this place seemed designed to control information, to shape understanding, to limit possibilities.
“How long has this tower been here?”
“The structure was completed twenty-three years ago, shortly before Liora’s arrival.”
“Built specifically for her?”
