The creaks of the wooden floors whispered old memories as Caleb wandered through the half-empty shell of his family home. Thrift store workers scurried around him, their arms laden with boxes filled with the last vestiges of his childhood. His thoughts were heavy, each footstep as if he was wading through a pool of nostalgia and sorrow.

He ventured into his mother's nearly barren bedroom and sat down on the plush bed. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air, a haunting presence. For a moment, he inhaled deeply, trying to hold onto that sense of closeness. His nose tingled, a sniffle escaped, and then the dam broke—his body convulsed in fierce, agonizing sobs.

As he wept, his mind spun toward the enigmatic figure of his father—a man he’d never met. Questions crashed like turbulent waves in his mind. Is he alive? Does he know about me? About mom? In the close-knit community of Troy, Indiana, where secrets were communal property, the absence of his father felt like a gaping hole in his life’s narrative.

“Hey, kid,” Amanda’s voice reverberated from the ajar front door, intruding upon his solitude. “Some guys are here to see you.”

Mystified, Caleb used the blue t-shirt he’d been wearing for the last two days to wipe away his tears. He rubbed his hands against his khaki shorts, as if trying to brush off the emotional grime. He had no friends here, no relatives apart from Amanda, his neglectful aunt, so who could possibly want to see him?

With a guarded curiosity, he made his way to the front door. Standing on the threshold were two men, eerily identical in their sharp burgundy suits, embroidered with large “G” logos. Their faces were obscured by sunglasses, even as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting elongated shadows. Both were bald, but the man on the right sported a sheen of black stubble—whether by choice or obligation, Caleb couldn’t discern.

“Caleb Hightower?” The stubbled man inquired. Caleb hesitated, then gave a cautious nod. “Your mother’s death was due to GeneSynth’s negligence. As a gesture of our condolences, we offer you this AniLink, pre-registered to your name.”

His counterpart reached inside his coat, pulling out a sleek black box emblazoned with “AniLink.” Overhearing the conversation, Amanda strode over, her curiosity piqued. Caleb hesitated a moment before taking the box, marveling at its surprising lightness. Could it even contain anything?

“Wait, my mom cleaned houses. She never worked for GeneSynth. She died in a fire near Compico’s farm—that’s what the cops told me. Are you saying they lied?” Confusion laced Caleb's words, his brow furrowed in a mix of suspicion and bewilderment.

Amanda, perhaps smelling drama or sensing an opportunity, chimed in. “So you're telling me my sister's death is on GeneSynth's hands?” Her voice trembled with barely restrained emotion, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. Caleb rolled his eyes discreetly, questioning the authenticity of her performance. “And you think this... this gadget will compensate for her life?”

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The men glanced at each other, unflinchingly stoic behind their shades. “We offer our condolences,” the one who had handed the AniLink muttered in a flat tone. As if on cue, they pivoted, nodding curtly at Amanda and Caleb, and made their way toward a sleek car parked down the driveway.

The two men exchanged a glance, blinked a few times as if recalibrating their emotions, and turned their gaze back to Caleb. “We offer our condolences,” the man who had handed over the AniLink intoned, as if reading from a script. Both men nodded—a mechanical, rehearsed gesture—first at Caleb and then at Amanda. They proceeded to stride toward a sleek, modern car parked in the driveway, its engine humming softly in the fading light.

“They’ve got a car?” Amanda's voice squeaked as her pitch climbed. “You're telling me that’s all GeneSynth can muster for our family?” She dashed after the men, her voice trailing away as the car sped off. Caleb shook his head, dismayed by his aunt’s shameless pursuit of anything that might ease her monetary woes.

He stood there, his eyes fixed on the dwindling tail lights of the car. The last time he had ridden in an automobile, he was six. He and his mother had borrowed their neighbor’s rusty, rickety car to drive up to Chicago just to see Lake Michigan. The trip was fraught with its own complications—the ride was bumpy, the car guzzled gas, and his mother had complained about every dollar spent. Still, Caleb would trade anything to go back to that simpler time, far away from this dreadful moment and his morally bankrupt aunt.

The emptiness of the house echoed around him. The furniture, the knickknacks, the very essence of his sixteen years—all vanished, either sold off or packed away. Now, all he had left was the AniLink box in his hand and the clothes clinging to his skin. He would have given it all away in a heartbeat if it could bring his mother back.

“How much do you think that’ll sell for?” Amanda panted as she returned, attempting to catch her breath. “Those AniLinks aren't cheap. One straight from GeneSynth should get us a decent price.”

“Is money all you think about?” Caleb shot back, revolted. “Didn't you hear? It's registered to me. No one else can use it.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” Amanda snarled, a few stray hairs escaping her otherwise tight ponytail, giving her a frazzled look. She brandished a wad of cash and fanned herself, as if that could somehow cool her indignation. “This will help cover what I’ll have to spend on you. You hungry? We can go to Old Dale’s.”

“Really? You’d buy me food?” Caleb asked, skeptical of any genuine concern from his aunt.

“Sure,” she replied. “My apartment's close by, so we can head home after.”

“What about clothes?” Caleb retorted, incredulous.

“Are you saying you don’t have clothes?” She shot him a disdainful look.

“You just sold all my clothes!” Caleb yelled, feeling the heat rise to his face. Before he knew it, he felt the sting of Amanda's palm across his cheek. “Did you just hit me?”

“I told you to watch your tone,” Amanda seethed, her voice laced with a contrived calmness. “We’ll figure something out.”

Feeling a mixture of sorrow and resentment, Caleb took one last, lingering look at the shell of the house he had once called home. As he turned away, a lump formed in his throat. “Goodbye, Mom,” he whispered, as if saying it quietly would make the parting any easier. With that, he followed Amanda, both of them swallowed by the gathering dusk, leaving behind a home emptied of its soul but still echoing with memories.