Chapter 62: 62 Participate In Your Manipulation, Part Three

Angharad couldn't sleep. She looked at the dismal greyness of the ceiling in the dark, because it was better than closing her eyes and letting her imagination run away. On the other side of the room Sophie coughed again, a big honking sound; the virus had been making its way slowly through the citizens of Zapville and Angharad didn't like the idea of it winding its way back to her.

She rolled onto her side and looked at the wall instead.

But she let her eyes dip closed and remembered what she'd seen again. The slight look of panic around Jin's eyes, the shape of his throat as he swallowed and licked his mouth; Freya pushing him down to sit on the bed, her hair almost black in the weird yellow-y light of Jin's room; the way his hand shook as he put it on her waist, as if he wasn't sure he was allowed; the strength with which Freya had gripped Jin's face as she kissed his mouth open for Angharad to watch.

And then Angharad had said, "Okay, great talk. Don't get zapped. I'll see you later," and left.

She almost regretted ever joking about liking to watch. Watching people when they didn't know you were watching, observing human behaviour like you were going to steal all their ways for yourself, so you could learn how to impress people, so you could see the way people in love acted when they thought nobody was looking – that was one thing. Actually being invited to watch people make out, that was another entirely too intimate thing. A little bit scary, a little bit too much.

Then again, maybe she was totally full of it. She'd watched Tsuyoshi and Zelko make out plenty of times when she knew they knew she was watching. A lot early on when they seemed constantly mad for it, kissing like they wanted to consume each other, like even knowing the consequences if they went too far couldn't stop them. And even now, sometimes, when all they would do is touch each other's faces and kiss closed-mouth, looking sad and weary and wrung out.

Another of Sophie's wracking coughs interrupted Angharad's musings.

Angharad could feel her face warm again and wanted to laugh. How would Sophie react if she knew? Or worse, Eleanor, who already seemed to think Angharad was some kind of licentious hussy out to get in the way of everyone's relationships? Never mind that Angharad was actually a terrified virgin who'd never let anyone get past second base.

But that just made her think of Josephine and her terrified face that afternoon when she'd looked at Angharad and Freya standing together. Like maybe she really did believe the rumours they'd created, which was so strange to Angharad. Just so, so strange. Angharad had deflected Jin's gossipy worry without ever letting on that she knew why Josephine was so confused, that it was all her fault, that there was some part of her thrilled by it, by knowing that Josephine thought of her when she shouldn't.

For a while there after she'd woken up from the coma she worried she'd lost it, that easy ability to lie and deflect and manipulate and keep secrets like she'd been born for it, when she'd nearly fumbled with Jin's relationship secret a handful of times. But now she knew she was recovered and had it back. Was it wrong to be proud of a skill most people thought was awful?

Then again, Spark would probably approve, and thinking that did make her feel a little queasy.

Sophie broke into another coughing fit, loud and unpleasant. That was it, Angharad couldn't stand it any more. She got out of bed, wrapped herself in a blanket in lieu of a dressing gown, and walked out.

It was cold enough at night that small crystals of ice dislodged from the heavy door to the dorm building when she slowly shoved it open. She didn't get why everything had to be so heavy in Zapville. Was she really the only person there that wasn't super-strong?

Downstairs, and the night air was cool enough that she felt she was walking into clouds of her own exhaled breath.

In the gravel, on the ground, the robot woman she'd seen that day was talking to Niall Turner. Or he was talking to her. Angharad couldn't be sure if it was two way communication.

Panic rose up the back of Angharad's spine again and she wasn't sure why. Was it just that she wanted to know too much, and she knew that kept leading her wrong? The panic and the cold had her jerking in place under her heavy blanket cloak, the shivers like a seizure.

The robot woman swivelled around and said, in a voice that sounded weirdly familiar, like a half-forgotten dream, "Angharad Silver, I have been waiting to meet you."

"Okay, but, why though?" Angharad asked.

"I came through the portal at the same time as this creature beside me. He desired to see you. It intrigued me. The people here talk of you in awed voices."

"Oh, yeah," Angharad said, "I was like a folk hero for, like, five seconds after I figured out the puzzle to turn this place into one big prison instead of two. That's pretty much it."

Niall didn't say anything. He stood hunched over beside the woman, his arms crossed around his body and poorly attired for the cold.

"So, like, do you have a name?" Angharad said.

"I have been named 1090," the woman said. "But if you desire to re-name me, I will allow that."

"No, I mean, that's cool. If you already have a name I can respect that. I always thought it was kind of, I don't know, racist when people try to give someone else a different name? Except when they do it to me, because I'm white, so then it's just weird but still super annoying. I mean, and I guess I don't know if you can be racist against robot people. Is that a thing? Stop me if I'm rambling."

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1090 didn't change her facial expression to react to Angharad's over-long speech, but maybe she couldn't. Maybe her face was just stuck like that, like the robot marionettes serving food in the kitchen.

"You didn't talk this much the first time we met," Niall said.

"Names have been shared. I will meet you again," 1090 said, then turned and walked away. She walked like a human woman, not like the usual not quite right movements of a robotic form. Way more advanced than anything Angharad had ever seen before.

"Are you really Niall Turner?" Angharad asked.

"What could I possibly gain from lying about it?" he asked.

"I don't know. People lie over stupid stuff all the time."

"We met on my father's plane. I was a small, panicked child. For you it was a year ago, for me closer to 15."

"You were kind of a brat, honestly."

His expression was wry. "I can't say I'm surprised to hear that. I came here with my sister to avoid being discovered by the people I rescued her from. I knew people had lived in this place, cut off from society, like in the mythical old west."

He looked up at the sky, as the barrier buzzed high above them.

"I bet you're regretting that now," she said.

"It's the only stupid decision I've ever made. I can't pretend to understand how a hole in space-time works, how it brought both of us here at this time when we should have arrived decades apart. But I am the real Niall Turner and I know you believe me."

She breathed in deep. "I guess I don't really have a choice. Little Niall Turner all grown up. You do look basically the same, just taller."

Another strong shiver seized her.

"This weather is too cold for you. I'll walk you back to your room," he said.

"It's really not that far."

But she let him walk behind her, anyway.

Sophie's coughs were still loud and gross enough that she could hear them through the door.

"I assume your friend's pillow is too high," he said. "You should lower her head and elevate the other end of her bed, instead, so that she can dislodge the mucus she's trying to cough out. And make sure she gets enough fluids."

She nodded. "Okay, I'll do my best."

"I hope you didn't believe what Spark said about me."

"Nobody listens to that guy. He's a bloviating windbag."

He smiled, slightly, just around the eyes. "You should meet Willow. She'd like you."

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