“Be patient,” a voice says in the darkness. “It can take a little time.”

“How long are we talking?” a second voice replies.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Just…be patient.”

It’s dark, and I’m not sure where I am. I feel my body give an involuntary twitch, as if I’m being jolted awake in that moment between sleep and consciousness.

There’s a quiet gasp as I open my eyes, blinking against the unexpected brightness of the light.

“See?” the first voice says. My vision is blurry, colors and shapes swimming in front of me, dancing and swirling dizzyingly, but I fight the urge to close my eyes again.

“Is he—” the second voice begins before being shushed quiet by the other.

The world in front of me continues to move, but slowly, slowly the colors begin to settle, and outlines begin to take form. Little by little, the world around me becomes more coherent. I squint against the light, trying to make out the shapes in front of me.

Where am I?

I turn my head to look around, to try and get a better idea of my surroundings, but this sets the world moving again, and I instantly regret my decision. It’s better, I realize, to direct my attention on a single object, to focus on what’s directly in front of me. There’s a figure, a silhouette, the outline slowly becoming more defined. It’s a person—no—two people. Ah, yes, the voices I’ve been hearing.

I let me eyes rest on the two figures. The first, a woman, is seated directly across from me, while a man stands just behind her, bending down to look at me over her shoulder. I focus on the woman as my eyes slowly adjust and her image becomes clearer and clearer.

“Hello, there,” she says, her features coming into focus at last and a smile spreading across her face.

Who are you? I want to ask. And what do you want?

“I’m Anya,” the woman says, as if responding to the unspoken question, “and this is Halil,” she gestures to the man behind her. I sit silently, taking it all in—the faces, the names.

“Can you understand me?” the woman asks.

I can, but—

“Hey, buddy,” the man says, snapping his fingers. “Can you hear us in there?”

The woman casts an annoyed look over her shoulder before turning back to me with a gentle smile.

“Why don’t we try this,” she says. “If you can understand me, blink,” she says, demonstrating by closing and then opening her eyes. I hesitate for a moment, and then follow her example. A broad smile spreads across her face.

“Hey, look at that!” the man watching me over her shoulder says. “Try another one.”

The woman gazes at me, her expression thoughtful.

“If you can understand me,” she says, “raise your hand.” She demonstrates the movement, which I mimic.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Maybe he’s just copying you,” I hear the man say, but I’m too busy examining the hand held up in front of me to pay much attention. I turn it over, closely studying each side of it, curling and uncurling the fingers.

“Is that true?” the woman asks. “Are you just copying me?” The words draw my eyes back to her face. She tilts her head to the side, smiling as if she already knows that’s not the case. Her eyes are warm, bright, intelligent, and her expression soft. We understand each other, don’t we? they seem to say.

“If you can understand me,” she says, “hand me the book from the table next to you.” To one side, there’s nothing standing between me and a large pain of glass. I pause for a moment, staring at the face that seems to be watching me from the other side of the glass, before turning to the other side where a table stands with a few objects, some familiar and some unfamiliar, strewn across the top. I pick up the book and hold it out to the woman across from me.

She reaches out and takes it gently from me before turning and looking up at the man who utters his approval. She’s proud, I realize, not just of me, but of herself.

“What else can he do?” the man asks.

“More like, ‘What can’t he do?’” the woman smiles.

“Well, he hasn’t said anything yet,” the man says. “Can you get him to talk?”

“I can try,” the woman says. She turns her attention to me. “I’m Anya,” she says again. “Can you tell me who you are?” But all I can do is sit and stare mutely at her.

“Do you have a name?” she prods gently.

The man crosses his arms in a clear act of impatience.

“I’m Anya, and this is Halil,” she tries again, this time attempting to make her intention more clear by gesturing toward herself and the man in turn. “Who are you?” she asks, extending her hand toward me.

“Is he broken?” the man asks with a scoff.

“It’s a process,” the woman sighs. “He’s incredibly sophisticated. And this time—"

“I know, I know,” the man interrupts. “Look, how ‘bout I leave you two alone, and you let me know if you need my help with anything?”

The woman nods.

“Sure,” she says. The man reaches down and gives her shoulder a small pat before turning and exiting the room.

The woman watches him leave and then turns back to me.

“Now, where were we?”

Anya shakes her head.

“I tried everything,” she says, “but…I don’t know. There must be a problem with his speech processor. I just can’t seem to get it working.”

The man nods thoughtfully for a moment.

“And none of the other cyberneural specialists could figure it out?” he asks.

“No one,” Anya replies ruefully. “All of his other capabilities are…well, they’re incredible,” she says. “But I don’t know how far he’ll get without being able to speak.”

Halil lets out a sigh.

“So, what do you recommend?” he asks, placing his hands on his hips.

Anya’s eyes dart over to me for a brief moment. I watch the two converse from where I’m seated on the far side of the room. Anya instructed me sit still and stay quiet. I’m good at being quiet.

“I almost hate to say it,” Anya sighs, “but we’re probably better off just decommissioning him and starting over.”

Halil raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“You think so?” he asks, scratching his chin.

Anya nods.

“It’s a shame after so much work, and just knowing what he’s capable of,” she looks down at her feet for a moment. “But it’s not fair to him,” she says, looking back up at Halil. “Besides, we’ve already effectively wasted enough time. We might as well just move on to the next one.”

Halil looks over at me and nods slowly.

“Okay,” he says. “Whatever you think is best.” He turns to Anya. “You gonna be okay?” he asks. “I know how hard you worked on him.”

Anya nods.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll just work harder next time, I guess,” she says with a laugh. Halil gives her shoulder a squeeze. He turns to look at me one last time before leaving the way he came.

After he’s gone, Anya comes and sits next to me. I stare through the glass, preoccupied by the man watching me from the other side. I blink, and he blinks. I turn my head slowly in one direction, and he does the same.

“So,” Anya begins, “you ready?” The man in the glass and I nod our heads in unison.

“You remember everything I told you?” We nod again.

“The ship is gonna be here in a couple of hours, and I don’t want you out of my sight between now and then, okay?”

I lift a hand, wiggling my fingers to wave at the man staring back at me, as his movements mirror my own.

“Hey,” Anya says, placing a hand gently on my arm. She waits for me to turn from the glass and meet her eye. “You’re going to get out of here,” she says, taking my hand in hers. “You’re going to get your speech processor fixed and go live a wonderful, beautiful life that is entirely your own.” She squeezes my hand tightly. “You’re going to forget about everything here on Seraphis. You’re going to find your own purpose.” Her eyes glisten as her lips curl into a smile. “And no one ever has to know.”