“You are not fine. You haven’t washed in days. You’ve eaten nothing but porridge. Your hair looks like abeezlehas nested in it, and I’m grateful I lack olfactory sensors because I can’t imagine what you smell like.”
“I don’t smell,” Holly mumbled, but lacked the energy to explain the procedure undertaken by nearly all humans in puberty that eliminated sweat odor.
Luv’s sensors flickered. “Holly. Get up.”
“Later.”
“You said that yesterday. And the day before.”
Holly rolled over, putting her back to the robot. “I’ll get up tomorrow.”
Luv was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “If you don’t get up and out of this unit, I will stop walking Bean.”
Holly didn’t open her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. And you’ll be the one cleaning his messes off the floor.”
“You would never do that to Bean.” She yawned and covered her face with the blanket. “He’s a good boy.”
Luv’s silence lasted three full seconds. “Fine,” she grumbled. “I wouldn’t do that to him. But Holly.” The robot’s voice dropped, losing its edge. Losing everything, actually, except concern. “People are worried about you. Everyone has come and knocked, even Tyer, if you can believe it. Harry left you a flask of tea that’s still sitting outside your door. Mish sent food. Alyce really is thinking of making me sing show tunes. I don’t want to, you know.”
“I know.”
“Do you also know that you’re becoming exactly what Charles was? A person who shuts the door and refuses to come out?”
The words hit harder than Luv probably intended. Or maybe exactly as hard as she intended. With Luv, it was difficult to tell.
“I’m not Charles,” Holly said, but the words came out thin.
“No, you’re not. Charles shut himself in because he didn’t care. You’re shutting yourself in because you care too much.” Luv rolled toward the door, Bean trotting beside her. “There is a difference. But the result is the same.”
The door opened. The door closed. The rollerball squeaked away, growing fainter.
Holly lay in the silence and let Luv’s words sit with her, about as comfortable as a stone in a shoe.
She pulled the blanket tighter and closed her eyes.
A few more days passed.
Holly had started to get up and move around. Her body was restless, but her mind was still not ready for people. She heard sounds through the door. Movement. Voices with all ranges of emotion from urgent to soft to angry. She’d taken to listening to the thruster burns of transports lifting off from the spaceport.It was probably everyone clearing out. Finding passage on departing ships, packing what they could carry, saying goodbyes she wasn’t present for. The thought hollowed her out each time it surfaced. She should be out there. She should be standing in the square, shaking hands, apologizing, thanking them for giving her a chance. For believing in her. For showing up to a festival and clapping when Mish’s children danced and buying cupcakes and sitting on Sam’s bench, looking out at a gas giant.
She should tell Mish she was sorry. She had promised not to sell, and she was selling. She had looked Mish in the eye and said she would save this place, and she had failed.
When she finallydidgo outside, most residents would be gone. They needed homes, now that Moone’s Landing was going to turn into a Rest ’N Recharge, complete with oversaturated advertisements on every surface.
Mr. Binn had likely sent a new offer from Rest ’N Recharge to her comm by now. She’d need to read and authorize it, and the thought of doing so made her stomach turn. There’d be terms and conditions and the final, miserable act of handing over her great-grandfather’s life’s work to a corporation that would abandon it and build a plastoid eyesore in its place.
Charles would get his statue. A petty monument to a man who had loved nothing and no one and had made sure his legacy reflected that. She hoped Rest ’N Recharge “displayed” it in a storeroom.
She couldn’t bring herself to turn on the comm.Not yet.Tomorrow. She’d do it tomorrow.
Alyce continued to come by every day. Her tone had eased with each visit and Luv had yet to begin singing, indicating they’d given up on the tough love angle. Holly sat on the sofa with a cup of Harry’s tea. She heard Alyce’s voice through the door: “Whenever you’re ready, Holly. We’re here.”
Holly didn’t say anything, but it was the first day she thought maybe she wanted to.
On the sixth morning (maybe), she woke up and felt different.
It wasn’t dramatic, but rather a quiet settling, like sediment reaching the bottom of a glass. The grief was still there. The failure was still there. But they had stopped churning and had come to rest. She could deal with what had happened without being pulled under.
