V'S JOURNAL
Day 42
A bit better since the archivist visited.
Still, nightmares and restless nights, she says.
Still no interest in joining to work.
Appears content remaining indoors.
Not minding it. I prefer the time at home together.
Evening routine remains. Long dinner together. She asks me the questions she couldn't find satisfying answers to during her day.
Today: geography and geopolitics. I explained our economic system, and she was perplexed. Said she will try to read more about it.
The garden is thriving. She waters it early in the morning before breakfast. Double-checks in the evening.
Eats her meals. Sometimes, long evening walks in the neighborhood (for her to get some exercise).
Still - low energy.
Why??
I looked up from my journal.
Sade's eyes moved between the projection of her tablet on the wall and her own notes. A second notebook lay open beside her, a finger holding a page. Her eyes scanned that one page, then scribbled more words in the next one.
It was endearing to watch. She reminded me of myself when I was a student at the academy. Except she was obviously way smarter than I ever could be.
In just a few weeks, her questions had evolved from basic definitions, such as "what's photosynthesis?", to deep biological concepts like how antigens interact with the immune system. Oddly, I was more comfortable with the latter set of questions as it was closer to my field. She didn't mind my technical vocabulary, as long as I gave her time to write it all down for later vocabulary research.
I closed my journal and walked over.
"What's this?" I asked, taking a single page from the table with a list of words on it.
Fossil fuel, technocracy, anthropocentrism... Some were familiar words I remember mentioning in my explanations, but I couldn't fully explain them to her. Others must have come from her own research.
"Vocabulary I have to look for at the library," she replied. "NORA takes me on a loop whenever I try to look for these..." She glanced at her tablet, and its government-controlled information access, with visible frustration.
I smiled. I would usually describe running into government withheld information as "hitting a wall", but she, with her mind of neural networks, would call it "going for a loop". Fascinating.
"So... you'll come with me to work again?" I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. I missed having lunch with her.
"I guess I have no choice," she said, taking the paper from my hand and scowling at it. "But I still have so much to review..." She flipped a page in her notebook.
Interesting. I thought she liked going to work with me and spending her time at the library. Between this and the green dress incident, I guessed her taste in things could really change then.
I hesitated, then asked, "Do you ever wish your computing abilities had been left intact? Instead of being reduced to... human levels?"
She looked up from her notebook.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean... Imagine not needing to read, not needing to understand something... or to write it down so you won't forget," I joined her on the floor, by the table, our backs resting against the couch. "If you were at full computer capacity, you'd be able to process billions of texts in milliseconds. You'd understand it all at once. And you'd never forget about it."
I regretted asking that question after she made that face again. A mix of shame and annoyance would always appear on her face whenever I would mention her condition.
"If I already knew about everything..." she smirked, "what would I ask you about then?"
I rolled my eyes. I was still not used to her teasing me, but I was thoroughly enjoying it.
"Soon enough, you will have exhausted all my knowledge," I replied, only half-jokingly. "You're catching up too fast. This list is only going to get longer," I tapped the vocabulary list. "Most things I answer are easily available information online."
"But I like our discussions. It's more entertaining than just looking up information..." She smiled faintly. "And... there are things I can't look up."
"Like what?" I asked quickly, trying not to sound too eager to know.
"Like... Emotions. I admire the way you can express what you feel."
It threw me off that she could admire something in me that was so... human?
"You admire that?" I repeated, stunned.
"Yes. A lot," she said, curling her arms around her knees and resting her head on them. "It's like you always know what you're feeling. And how to handle it. I wish I could do the same... but I still have so much to learn," she sighed.
I knew she was thinking of the argument we had before. Maybe she was also referencing my confession to her at the oasis.
"I didn't figure it out alone," I said, honesty overriding my instinct to deflect for once. "I had help. Through therapy."
Her head lifted, intrigued.
"Therapy?"
"Talk therapy," I clarified. "You talk with a mental health professional to understand yourself better."
"And that's how you learned?"
I nodded. "They help you go through your emotions, your thoughts, your behavior. They can help you find patterns in your experiences. I had many therapists in my life."
"Why so?"
"I kept trying to fix... my issue."
"And none of them could help you?"
"To be fair, I never gave them the full picture. I couldn't bring myself to tell them... my biggest secret."
She frowned.
"Therapy works better when you're honest," I added. "And I wasn't. So I kept... being in a loop." I said, using her own words, hoping it would help her understand the frustration it had been for me to keep going to therapy, but being unable to talk about my real issues. "Honesty is important for therapy."
"Honesty..." she repeated with a small scowl between her eyebrows, her stare still focused on her doodles on the page. "About that..."
"What?" I asked, and when she seemed troubled, I insisted, "What's wrong?"
"I have to tell you something. I should have told you earlier but..."
She gulped, looking down at the floor.
"I think your manager knows I'm a Love Machina."
"Why do you say that?"
"He told me."
I remained silent for a moment.
"When?"
"The last time I was at the library."
I removed my glasses.
"What did he say exactly?"
"He said, he knows that you used some research funds to buy a Love Machina. He seemed to believe your purchase was personal and not for the research. He didn't seem to link the two," Sade continued, trying to reassure me, probably.
I couldn't panic.
Not after she had just complimented me on being such a master of my emotions.
But then, another thought appeared.
"Is that why you don't want to go back?"
Sade looked down at her notes on the table.
"Yes," she admitted, "I was scared to meet him again."
Suddenly, it seemed like everything I had been wondering about the past days started to make sense.
"Would that explain the strange mood of the past days?"
Sade nodded, her trembling eyebrows knitting together on her forehead.
"Come here," I said, pulling her into a hug, my hands brushing along her back.
I wanted to tell her she should have shared it with me sooner. That she shouldn't hold on to anything that was weighing her down. That she shouldn't fear my reaction or try to protect me, that I was the one supposed to protect her.
But I pushed the thought aside. That conversation could wait until she feels better.
For now, I was just grateful she had trusted me.
"No more secrets, okay?" I simply said.
She nodded against my shoulder before pulling away from my hug.
"But what will you do about it?" she asked, worry all over her face.
"I'll take care of it. Don't worry."
Again, I pulled her close for another hug, trying to hide the concern on my face. Sade had carried this anxiety for me all week... I could bear that weight now. The consequences of my actions were mine alone, not hers.
She had already given me so much. She had offered me a new purpose, a reason to care. I wanted her to feel the same joy I felt just having her in my life.
I remembered my promise to her.
"By the way... Is there anything else you would like to experience?" I asked, breaking our hug.
She looked at me for a beat longer than I expected, then looked back at her notes. She often had these shifty looks for the past days.
I had imagined everything but what she was about to say.
"I'm not sure if it's feasible..." she seemed embarrassed to share her idea which made me even more eager to know of it. "I saw this picture in a book at the library..."
My imagination ran wild.
"It was a person, biting into what seemed like... a fruit," she mimicked the action of taking a round fruit to her lips. She chuckled, embarrassed at her idea, her stare avoiding mine. "I see plants everywhere... but I don't see fruits hanging from them. NORA says it's because we don't have pollinators in the City," she explained what I knew already. "In the image... It looked like the person had directly picked an apple from a tree... and was eating it," she concluded with a smile. "I'd like to experience that," she said with a dreamy stare toward her garden.
How intriguing that a machina would want to experience what humans had given up a long time ago in favor of artificial flavor and safer eating habits.
"How did you know it was an apple?"
She picked another notebook and flipped through the pages. Following my instructions, she wasn't scanning the pages of the books. Instead, she was drawing the pictures she was seeing, with the help of the only pen and the few coloring pencils I could find for her on the vintage collector market.
She showed me the drawings of beautiful tomatoes, cherries, strawberries, grapes, melons, peaches, and bananas. I had forgotten most of these names. I had learned about them as a kid, but our food industry had advanced so much that I never saw any of these.
"It's weird because I know how they taste..." Sade continued, flipping through her own drawings. "We often order Minty Strawberry Ice Cream, for example. Or my Mango Granola Morning Bowl... But it seems different to experience the real thing... It's weird, right?" She closed her notebook, already dismissing her own needs herself.
"It's not," I said, already typing on my tablet. "And I exactly know how to make this happen."
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