“How is the Institute? Have you found Luhan?”

I pull my wrist farther from my face, annoyed that I even answered a call from Hara. Since I wasn’t familiar with the watch, I had thought I was just answering a call from the Council. Like something had happened and they wanted me to come back because they had made a new discovery; which would have been fine, really, although I would’ve been minorly upset considering I’m getting somewhere with Lay.

“I’m working on it, Hara.”

“What about Sehun?”

I didn’t even think about Sehun when I started this mission. I suppose I owe Hara to find him, too. “I’ll find both of them.”

“It’s a good thing you’re in the Institute right now, Emer. Things are changing here.”

“Changing how?” Perhaps the Government truly has discovered something. If they did, would they even tell me? Do they know that I have made a deal with the most intelligent scientist in the Institute? Do they know I am talking to Hara at this very moment?

“Something must have happened, although they haven’t released an official announcement. The council hasn’t met in days. And they’re considering a visit to the Brass region a week early.”

I try to think that it isn’t strange, but the Government is far too methodical to change its rules now. I close my eyes, suddenly tired of all these unanswered questions. “I guess you’re right.”

“Will you give me a call when you have the time?”

“I don’t know how to use this bloody watch,” I say as an excuse.

“It’s simple. Tell it what to do, and it will do it. It’s quite brilliant, although nothing like our Exons.”

Our Exons. I tense at the term. “I’m hanging up.”

“Wait, Emer, I only meant - ” I swipe at the screen of the watch, hoping it will cut the call, and it does. With Hara’s voice gone, the room suddenly feels oppressive, and empty. I hope for a miracle - a break in my circumstance, like hearing a knock on the door and opening it to see that it’s Luhan, greeting me with his boyish smile and golden brown eyes - but miracles aren’t easy to come by.

My eyes land on the broken picture frame propped on the desk. The way the light hits the crack disfigures Luhan’s beautiful face. It unsettles me, so I reach over to move it, but then there is a knock on my door. Could it be an answer to my wish? But I already know it isn’t.

“Hello,” Lay nods from beyond the threshold. He is wearing a tailored charcoal jacket. His hair is freshly combed, and he smells faintly of pine and something floral. But why am I noticing that? “Sorry to disturb you. Did I wake you?”

“No,” I answer curtly. After a moment of silence, he his head, and I realize I was supposed to invite him in. “Right. Um, you can have a seat.” I gesture to the empty chair. He makes himself comfortable as I close the door.

I’m not sure why I’m nervous. It’s as if I am a teenage girl again, rubbing my sweaty palms against my thighs because a boy is in my room. But he’s not a boy - Lay is an intelligent man, and maybe that’s why I am more skittish than I should be - but again, what do I care? I tell myself it’s because this is our first meeting after we established our pact, but I can’t make myself believe that entirely.

“I brought the contract.” He offers me a tablet. I take it and skim through the four pages of criteria he must have written up since last time we met. “It’s fairly simple. You only need to sign it.”

“I didn’t think that what we discussed could merit four pages.”

“I made sure all bases were covered.”

I sit cross-legged on the bed, warily reading through the statements he so carefully outlined. He doesn’t miss a thing. It’s exactly what we talked about, although with more details.

“So what happens if neither of us hold up our end?”

“Last page,” he answers. I scroll and read the last stanza:

If either party breaks even one regulation of the contract, the contract will be nullified and any information exchanged since the signing of the contract will rightfully be either party’s possession. Either party has the right to use any information exchanged in whatever way deemed beneficial according to the original purpose of the contract.

“So if I screw up, you can do whatever you want with what you know?”

“And vice versa,” he says. “It’s only fair.”

“Of course,” I murmur. “So, where do I sign?”

He starts typing on the tablet. The document disappears and fades into this blue screen that pulsates every time he touches it. It then pulsates red, and he returns it to me. “It takes your handprint.”

“So, not a signature after all?” I joke.

“Signatures can be forged. Handprints are unique to the owner.”

He takes everything at face value. I knew this, but it still makes me feel like an idiot. I place my hand on the tablet and wait for some kind of revolutionary action, but it merely flashes once. It reminds me of what Luhan’s eyes would look like when he was committing something to memory. If I know anything about the Institute, it’s that they are unfailingly consistent in their designs.

Lay scans his hand, too, and then he turns the screen off and tucks it into a pocket within his coat. His attire causes me to feel exposed. I bring the blanket up to my knees, covering my legs with it.

“Shall we start?”

“Start what?” I ask.

“Exchanging information, of course.” Lay leans back, looking relaxed and yet completely in control. “I programmed the cameras. It doesn’t show that I’ve left my office, much less made my way to your room. It will be an hour until people get suspicious.”

Something in the way he says it makes my skin tingle. I draw the blankets closer to me like some sort of shield.

“Well … what do you want to know?”

He points a finger at me. At first I think he’s accusing me of a crime; but no, he’s referring to the watch that encircles my wrist. “What is that?”

“A watch of sorts. Everyone in the Government has it except for the council.”

“May I see it?” He approaches me with his hands open. I unclasp it from my wrist and drop it into his cupped hands. “Interesting,” he hums as he turns it around in his large hands. “Not as advanced as our technology here, yet impressive. I assume it does more than keep track of time.”

“It’s how I communicate with the Government.”

He glances sharply up at me at this, and then fiddles with the settings on the watch.

“What are you doing?” I cry out. “This is my one connection to the Government. This is the only way they know where I am. If you ruin that - ”

“That’s good to know.” He pulls a metal rod from his pocket. It looks like a needle, but much thinner and with knobs at the end. He uses it to take apart the device. I watch helplessly as the sleek black band becomes a collection of disjointed pieces testifying of some previous glory.

“There’s a microphone,” he observes. “So you use this to report to the Government, I assume?” I nod. “Have you mentioned any of … this?” He gestures vaguely. I shake my head. “Good. It doesn’t seem like the Government has been recording anything. From what I can observe, they only know what you tell them - and, of course, where you’ve been.”

I hadn’t really meant what I thought earlier - about not caring that the Government recorded conversations - so I breathe a sigh of relief at the confirmation. If anyone would know how this watch worked, it would be Lay. I can trust him.

I jerk at the thought. When did I let myself think that?

“Are you alright?” He asks.

I nervously smile, hoping to wave his concern - or curiosity - away. “Fine. Why do you want to know about the watch, anyway?”

“Knowing how it works might prove to be valuable in the future. Plus, knowing what you use it for will affect what I want to share with you.” I glower at him, but he annoys me, continuing to pick apart the watch. “Frankly, I could care less about the device if you hadn’t been wearing it.”

“It’s no federal secret. Everyone who works in the Government has it.”

“It’s a unique way to keep track of people, that’s for certain. Making them feel protected when in reality they are very much exposed.” He stops fiddling with the watch. “Whatever connection this had with the Government probably broke after I took it apart. They might contact you asking about it. Just explain that there was radio interference. It’s a plausible excuse.”

“You’re putting me at risk.”

“I’m saving you,” he replies as he begins to reconcile the watch. “You’ll notice it sooner or later.”

I watch him quietly as he works. When he is finished, I reach out to take it from him, but instead he smoothly clips it around my wrist. Surprised at his touch, I recoil. He smiles, although as usual, it is mirthless.

“And here I thought I wasn’t entirely repulsive.”

“No, I’m sorry, I - “

“So tell me. About the tests.”

I shut my mouth, wishing to share anything but that. “It wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of my life.”

“Care to explain?”

So I do, starting with the basics I am certain he is already familiar with (the purpose behind the test, the consequences that come out of the results) to my personal experience with it (failing it the first time, and then retaking it a second time). He doesn’t interrupt me once, not even when I stumble on my words because of my faded memory.

“You’re the first one to take the test twice.”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t take his tablet to write it down, doesn’t even look away as if to remember. “And they gave you the lackey position after the second test.”

“I already said that.”

“Even though you received a perfect score?”

“I said that, too.”

“Have you ever wondered whether someone tampered with your test?”

I in a breath. I had let myself think that once, but such a thought would be dangerous. Plus, the test wasn’t exactly my priority at the time - Luhan was. Perhaps that was my true score, and I didn’t have the pride to admit it.

“I don’t know. I had other things going on, too.” I let my gaze wander to the picture frame on my desk. Lay notices this and changes the subject.

“Okay. My turn. What do you want to know?”

I don’t hesitate to answer. “Is Luhan alive?”

“Relatively so.”

“Is he here, in the Institute?”

“Not functioning, but yes.”

I grit my teeth, steeling myself for a third question. “Where is he - “

“”Do you still love him?” Lay interrupts. His question catches me off guard.

“Of course.”

“After all these years?”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s been three years. You spent only half a year with this Exon, and yet you claim to love him even after all this time has passed. I want to know what convinced you to feel that way.”

“I - “ Nothing convinced me. Luhan never convinced or coerced me to feel for him. I did that on my own. I did that, because I changed. Because I let myself feel again. Because I let myself trust again. And maybe it’s because of that change that I am now starting to trust Lay, too. Is that a good thing? “He was everything I wasn’t.”

“And what weren’t you?”

“Brave,” I confess. “I was scared of so many things. And miserable. But he made me feel brave, and happy.”

“You loved him.” he states. A fact. “But I wonder if he ever really loved you.”

My throat goes dry. I play with the edges of the blanket. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, exactly how much is an Exon capable of? Do they truly have the cognitive ability to love?”

“You weren’t with him then.” Lay didn’t see how his eyes changed, how his thoughts changed. “He loved me.” I feel like a child for defending myself by saying that, but I can’t have Lay insult what Luhan and I experienced. Lay wasn’t there. He didn’t know what happened.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he was only told to love you. Perhaps you were an experiment of the Institute all along, and you fell right into their trap.” He leans in, eyes impeccably dark, the smell of pine overwhelming me. “Perhaps he never really loved you.”

I smack him then. I realize what I’ve done only after I see the red mark swelling on his cheek. My hand stings; I had hit him hard. He stretches his jaw, rubs it, and then turns to look at me. His eyes remain the same - deadly calm, almost spiritless.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe out.

“I’m telling you a fact.”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie,” he sighs, exasperated. “I’ve told you that so many times already.”

“There’s no way that he was programmed to love me.” What Luhan said, the things he did - surely the Institute couldn’t have controlled that. Right?

“I understand if it’s shocking. The past few years of your life have been like this because of him. To think his love was fabricated damages the point of it all. I understand, believe me.” He pauses, and I wonder if there is more he isn’t telling me.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Just theories. Nothing factual.”

But maybe I want theories. Maybe theories are better than facts. Maybe I want to believe in a lie. Lie to me, dammit. Just like everybody else in this whole world.

Everyone, that is, but Luhan.

“I have to leave. But I want to give you one last thing.” He pulls a folded paper from his pocket and places it on the desk, next to Luhan’s broken frame. “We’ll see each other tomorrow. There is a faculty party. You’re invited. I believe an Exon will notify you this evening, but I wanted to give you a notice in advance.” He stalls by the door, perhaps wanting to say something, but eventually he leaves.

When I hear the soft hum of the door, I reach for the paper. My fingers are shaking as I unfold it. At first, it’s just script - Lay’s handwriting, messy and lopsided. But then my eyes focus.

Luhan’s hot chocolate recipe it says on the top. Hot water, cocoa powder, milk, sugar, cinnamon.

I can’t even laugh. This is the smallest of mysteries to be explained. It wasn’t anything I agonized over. But knowing the truth is like having the memory of Luhan be painted over.  Is it possible that I don’t want to know anything beyond Luhan’s deactivation, the Government’s investigation, even beyond the Institute’s secrets? If knowing the truth makes me feel this way, then I’m not sure I want to know.