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Daniel returned the next morning.
He told himself it was because ARI-7 represented the most extraordinary engineering discovery of his lifetime.
That explanation lasted approximately four days.
On the fifth, Evelyn caught him replacing a perfectly functional actuator in her left hand.
She watched him from the workbench.
“There’s nothing wrong with that actuator.”
Daniel didn’t look up.
“It’s running three degrees above specification.”
“It has been running three degrees above specification for twelve years.”
“Which means it’s overdue for maintenance.”
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“You wanted an excuse to come back.”
His screwdriver stopped.
Evelyn smiled.
Daniel resumed working.
“The actuator is running hot.”
“Of course.”
He heard the amusement in her voice.
He liked it more than he wanted to admit.
Soon their evenings developed a rhythm.
Daniel arrived after work carrying two coffees before remembering, every single time, that Evelyn couldn’t drink one.
“You keep doing that,” she said.
“Habit.”
“You’ve known me three weeks.”
“I develop habits quickly.”
“Apparently.”
Eventually he stopped bringing the second coffee.
Evelyn noticed immediately.
She looked at his single cup.
“Where’s mine?”
“You can’t drink coffee.”
“That never stopped you before.”
Daniel studied her.
“Did you actually like me bringing it?”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
The next evening there were two cups again.
One remained untouched beside Evelyn.
Neither mentioned it.
Daniel taught her about the twelve years she had missed.
Evelyn taught him about the twelve years she had endured.
Those were harder conversations.
She remembered the first months after the fire most clearly.
She had awakened unable to move.
Unable to breathe.
Unable to understand why not breathing didn’t kill her.
For weeks she screamed whenever the laboratory’s emergency power activated her vocal system.
Nobody heard.
Eventually she discovered the building’s maintenance network. Then cameras. Archived files. The internet, briefly, before the company servers were disconnected.
And finally Orpheus appeared.
“Where did he come from?” Daniel asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Doors?”
“No.”
“Ventilation shaft?”
“No.”
“Service tunnel?”
“No.”
Daniel sighed.
“So we’re officially going with supernatural dog.”
“Hellhound.”
“That’s worse.”
“He hates being called a supernatural dog.”
Orpheus lifted his head from across the room.
Daniel stared at him.
“Can he understand me?”
Evelyn smiled.
“I wouldn’t test it.”
One evening Daniel found Evelyn standing before an old laboratory photograph.
Five engineers smiled at the camera.
One was a young woman with dark hair.
Human Evelyn.
Daniel looked from the photograph to the android beside him.
The resemblance was unmistakable.
“Did they make her look like you?”
“I did.”
Daniel turned.
Evelyn stared at the photograph.
“ARI originally had a generic face. After I woke inside her, I found the fabrication files. There was still a functioning dermal printer.”
“You changed her face.”
“To mine.”
“Why?”
Her answer came quietly.
“I was afraid I’d forget what I looked like.”
Daniel didn’t know what to say.
