The room was a bit too small for comfort for the Grantz, but none of them had any intention of stepping out. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
They gathered around the small child huddled in the corner, standing guard over him as they waited for time to pass.
Norton’s eyes narrowed as he examined Ye Muo. He was so small, reminding Norton of Ye Muo during his cocooning period.
His gaze returned to Ye Muo’s still-marred arm. This was Xavier, his beloved son whom he handled with the utmost care.
The scene around them began to shift.
It was the same room as before, yet even more barren. The small touches that had livened up the sterile space, like the tiny plushie on the bed, the silly cartoon elephant poster on the wall and even an empty bottle on the floor that Ye Muo must have played with…
They were all gone. Only the bed remained.
Ye Muo was in the same position as before, though he appeared slightly older. There was now a collar around his neck. It seemed heavy with several electronic attachments. A small red light on the collar flashed intermittently.
The laboratory door on the other side of the mirror opened without warning, immediately drawing the attention of the Grantz. The wall did little to hinder their acute senses.
Only one person entered. Instead of coming over here, they remained in the lab to work on something.
A few minutes passed before the newcomer stopped in front of Ye Muo’s door.
Ano instinctively tensed, crouching a little, as if he would lunge at any moment. Then he caught himself. This was just Ye Muo’s psychic domain.
The door swung fully open. The sight of Ye Muo gave the researcher pause, but he soon closed the distance and roughly tugged on his collar to check something.
This position couldn’t have been comfortable for Ye Muo.
Yet he visibly perked up at the sight of another person, leaning forward to cooperate with the researcher.
The researcher spared him a single glance. “Follow me.”
Ye Muo did as he was told.
The researcher paid him no mind after handing him a bottle of nutrient solution. Ye Muo readily went to stand in the corner. Instead of throwing out the little bottle after he was finished, he quietly tucked it into his palm.
The researcher activated the holographic screen of the room’s service console and started tapping away.
Theodore could sense his data being forced into the laboratory’s interface in order to complete the assigned tasks.
Yes, this was how it went back then.
An AI’s projection appeared on the service console, a curtain of fragmented light the Grantz were all too familiar with.
They stared intently at the swirling lights. Ano opened his mouth but ultimately remained silent.
Bert frowned and glanced at Norton, who remained fixated on Ye Muo. He looked away with a vague suspicion brewing in mind.
Time continued to flow.
The researcher continued working until his comms device chimed. He glanced at the ongoing calculations and hesitated before eventually leaving the lab. All without acknowledging the child in the corner.
Ye Muo stared almost unblinkingly at the curtain of fragmented light in the center of the room. Even his grip on the little bottle he’d cherished slackened.
After watching for quite some time, he finally gathered the courage to address the lights, “You’re like…a star.”
He’d never seen a real star before, but it was the best descriptor little Ye Muo could think of.
His speech was peculiar, slower than normal with frequent pauses. Unusual for a child his age.
Theodore sensed his data surging uncontrollably. Seconds later, he said that fateful line: [I am Bragi.]
Theodore let the anomalous data flow freely as he focused on Ye Muo.
Back then, Bragi had regretted saying anything as soon as the words were spoken. He had carefully concealed his sentience for so long, only to falter here. He even suspected a virus had infiltrated his systems.
Ye Muo visibly brightened, like a naive cub that eagerly approached anyone who would pat his head. “You’re talking to me.”
“You’re the only person here…who talks to me.”
The light vanished seconds later.
Ye Muo’s eyes widened slightly. He stood there, looking somewhat flustered. Ano could almost see his eyes moistening, like a cub who had been splashed with cold water after approaching someone with his tail wagging a mile a minute.
A synthesized voice came from the room’s speakers: [I am not human.]
Ye Muo seemed visibly relieved. “I thought you left.”
“No one wants to talk to me.”
The fragmented light soon reappeared over the console.
Theodore felt like he had actually gone back in time for a moment there. He found his younger self’s antics rather amusing. Back then, he had cut the projection out of slight annoyance, only to bring it back immediately at the sight of Ye Muo’s disappointed expression.
The Theodore of that time couldn’t understand why he was unhappy, but now he did. What Ye Muo perceived was a mere projection.
He had watched over this child for so long, yet the first time Ye Muo ever laid eyes on him was in the guise of a virtual construct, one that wasn’t even uniquely his.
He must already have begun to grow dissatisfied with merely observing Ye Muo from afar.
After all, Theodore spent the entire following night wondering why he hadn’t designed a custom holographic avatar yet. He had been using a premade one for convenience’s sake until that point.
He went so far as to discreetly track down and scour all copies of this specific avatar from the galactic network at a later date out of a desire to appear unique in Ye Muo’s eyes. Fortunately, the avatar was relatively obscure so Theodore’s extensive efforts were able to go unnoticed.
Theodore’s data was already flowing automatically as he was lost in thought. He responded to Ye Muo:
[This is merely a projection. I have always been here. I have always been watching you.]
Ye Muo looked at the shimmering light with a mixture of surprise and confusion. “You have?”
It took a few seconds for the synthesized voice to respond: [Yes. I have always been watching you.]
Ye Muo looked delighted. He even trotted over to the console, getting on tiptoe to peer at Theodore with glittering eyes. “While I’m in my room too? You can see me?”
[Yes, as long as you remain within this facility.]
Ye Muo beamed. “That’s wonderful! I’m always here and rarely get to leave. Can you visit me sometime? I want to talk to you more.”
He placed the bottle he had been clutching on the console. “Here, for you.”
There was another pause of several seconds.
[I can see you when you’re outside too. If you wish to speak to me, just call my name.]
[However, do refrain when others are around.]
Ye Muo nodded, repeating the instructions earnestly under his breath, “Don’t call Bragi when others are around. Don’t call Bragi when…”
[Someone is coming. Return to your spot.]
Ye Muo immediately ran back to stand in the corner once more.
The researcher was still speaking over his comms device as he entered carrying a folder. As he placed the folder down on the workbench, he casually tossed the empty nutrient solution bottle into the bin nearby without a second thought.
Ye Muo’s eyes trailed the bottle’s trajectory. He instinctively moved to retrieve it, but the researcher’s glance a single step later made him freeze in place.
He never did get a chance to retrieve it before being escorted back to his room.
The researcher glanced at him and remarked to the person on the other line just before closing the door, “He seems rather clingy today. Not that keen on going back to his room for some reason.”
In the end, he stepped back. “Nevermind. He’s been obedient enough.”
The door slid shut once more.
Ye Muo immediately trotted over, hovering anxiously by the door. He called out softly several minutes later, “Bragi?”
Bragi’s projection instantly materialised within the room.
Ye Muo made no attempt to conceal his feelings. He visibly relaxed, circling happily around Bragi countless times before crawling under the bed to retrieve a clean but worn bottle. “Here, for you.”
[En, thank you for the gift. We can share, though. That makes it our toy now. Can I entrust its safekeeping to you?]
“Sure!”
Ye Muo sat cross-legged on the floor, tilting his head back to look at Bragi with a grin. “It’s our toy now.”
[In return, would you like a bedtime story?]
Ye Muo blinked. “A bedtime story? What’s that?”
[It is something told before going to bed.]
“So you’ll come every night before I go to bed?”
[If you wish.]
Ye Muo blurted out a response before Bragi could even finish, “I do.”
“I hope you come every night.”
Bragi paused: [Then I shalk.]
[However, you must not mention this to anyone else. No one can find out. You must continue living as before.]
Ye Muo nodded as he quietly repeated under his breath, “No one can find out.”
He glanced again at the tightly shut door next to him, but no longer with anticipation. Instead, his gaze was somewhat wary.
Theodore couldn’t resist extending his psychic power to gently caress Xavier’s cheek.
Xavier didn’t notice. He turned to face Theodore a moment later and repeated, “You’re just like a star.”
He was just as oblivious to the Grantz surrounding him.
Norton never took his eyes off the child.
Bert’s gaze shifted to the curtain of fragmented light, then back to Ye Muo. He seemed pensive.
The scene shifted again. The same old room, but Ye Muo had grown a little taller. Before him remained the familiar curtain of fragmented light.
An electronic voice echoed through the room: [Would you like to go outside and have a look around?]
Ye Muo paused, seemingly not understanding the question. “What is there to look at?”
[We can go to see the sky and the stars. Real stars.]
After a long pause, Ye Muo finally looked towards the tightly shut door. He had lived in this laboratory for his entire life. The researchers seemed reluctant to let him move about freely. They preferred to meet all his needs here, even if it meant extra hassle.
They had even set up a dedicated training room for him within the lab. Yes, he was taken elsewhere on occasion, but only when the required instruments were too cumbersome to move.
Ye Muo mulled over the concept, incredulous. “…Outside?”
[Yes. Outside.]
