"Strange... free." My voice catches. "I have not been unmonitored since before the arenas. My body doesn't know what to do with the absence."
Her thumb traces a circle on my ankle bone. Her certainty flows into my uncertainty, not overriding it but sitting beside it. Companionship in the freefall.
"Your body will learn," she says. "The same way it learned the cafeteria and the clothing terminal and the gym. Freedom is a skill, and you're a fast learner."
"Krilly." Rough. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For kneeling." The words come out before I can examine them. "Every time something is put on me or taken off me, you kneel. The harness. The tracker fitting. Now this." My hand finds her hair. "You make yourself small so the moment feels safe."
Her surprise. She didn't realise she'd been doing it. The instinct to bring herself to my level when the technology changes, to make herself the thing that stays constant while the hardware shifts.
"I'm an engineer," she says, blinking. "I get on the floor for circuitry. It's habit."
"It is not habit. It is care. And I will remember it for the rest of our synchronised lifespan."
Her eyes are bright. She presses her lips to my ankle, right where the indentation sits, and the gesture is so tender that opalescent light floods my markings and my vision blurs for the first time since the hearing.
Radley clears her throat gently. "You're cleared, Mr. Ka'reen. For records: residence?"
I stand. Full height. Unmonitored. Uncollared. Free.
"Junction One. Room 314, residential block C. With Courier Krilly Baxter."
Radley logs it without ceremony. Routine data entry. But to me: everything. Official residence. My choice. My home.
"Congratulations on your freedom," Radley says. "Both of you."
In the corridor, I stop. Look down at my ankle, visible below the jumpsuit hem. No band. No tracker. No device of any kind.
"We should celebrate," Krilly says.
"I agree." The beginning of equilibrium. The vertigo fading as the absence becomes familiar. "But first, I believe you promised to attempt cooking."
"I promised no such thing."
"You mentioned wanting to try the kitchen equipment."
"I mentioned that the kitchen equipment looks like it might achieve sentience if we press the wrong button. That's not the same as promising to cook."
"I would like to witness the attempt."
Her eyes narrow. "Are you asking me to cook because you're hungry, or because you want to watch me fail?"
"Both."
The protein is on fire.
Not smoking. Not browning aggressively. Actively, visibly, unambiguously on fire, with small flames licking the surface of what was supposed to be a simple pan-seared portion.
"It's caramelising," Krilly says, waving a utensil at it.
"That is combustion."
"Caramelisation and combustion are on the same spectrum."
"They are not on the same spectrum. One is a cooking technique. The other is a safety hazard."
