Once I’m in my room, I shut the door and lean my back against it. I close my eyes and breathe in and out. I just focus on that one act: breathing. I focus on my lungs as they expand and contract. I focus on the black pattern imprinted on the back of my eyelids.

In. Out. In. Out.

Trying to take my mind off of things, I push myself off the door and start making my bed. Afterwards, I take out everything in my desk drawers and start going through the items. I find paper and pens, clips and photos. I throw the things I don’t need into the trash, and arrange the things I still want to keep back into the drawer. I wipe the desk, and I wipe the dresser. I clean the windows, as well as my closet.

I wear myself out, but it’s a calming type of languor. By the time I take a break to look at the clock, I realize that it has already been two hours since I started cleaning. Time flies when one is busy.

I wish it were impossible to run away from one’s mind. I would love to flee from my thoughts right now, but unfortunately, that’s not possible. I reason that the only way to deter those thoughts is to do something that will satisfy them.

I tip-toe downstairs. I don’t see Luhan, so I enter the kitchen and grab the phone. I pause and try to remember Hara’s number before I dial. It rings twice before she answers.

“Hello?”

“Hara,” I greet. “Hey. Listen, um … is your dad stuck at the Government, too?”

“Mhm,” she replies. “It’s just Sehun and I tonight. I’m playing a board game with him. Would you like to join?”

“No,” I respond curtly. “I had a question. My mom told me that the Exons have life spans … is that a new feature?”

“New?” I can hear the scoff in her voice. “That was always there. The Institute advertised it on their letters. Didn’t you used to get those?”

“I don’t remember what they said,” I admit.

“Hold on, let me try to find a copy, okay? Hold on for a bit,” she tells me. I hear a subtle clack, and then silence. A minute passes before she returns to the phone. “I found it. Um, let’s see … declared the legal publication … satisfy the buyer’s needs … will last the length of life desired by the owner during the placement process. It’s right here. Did you only find out about it now?”

“It never mattered to me before,” I whisper. “How long did you order Sehun for?”

“We bought a warranty for him,” she informs me. “His life span doesn’t really matter.”

I my lips. My throat is dry. “Do you – or Sehun – know how long Luhan’s life span is?”

“I don’t think he’d know,” she responds. “But I’ll ask, okay?” I hear a bubble of muffled conversation before she continues, “He says that the Institute doesn’t tell Exons what other Exons’ life spans are.”

“But he’s … he’s like a charity case,” I say, trying to gather information. “He was a gift. And I never ordered him, he just arrived one day, and now I don’t know … I don’t know how long he’ll be here.”

“Emer.”

“What?”

“He’s the first of the 2nd Gen. How long do you think he was programmed for?”

I stare at the kitchen counter. “That’s what I’m asking you.”

“Well, if you think about it, he either has a really, really long life span because the Institute worked on him first and wanted him to last for as long as possible … or he has a really, really short life span, because he was the first creation. They could always create more. He could be subject to a lot more updates.”

“But he’s here,” I reason. “He can’t be updated here. I can’t send him back. I only send him back when something goes wrong, right?”

“Then if he’s there,” she ponders, “what are you worried about?”

She’s not making any sense, and her oblique words are not encouraging me. I lean against t