By now, Devorah could point out a few different bedrooms. The one that once belonged to Nour. Jacob’s, of course. Kefilwe’s. But she didn’t have the layout memorized. Thankfully, her new AI partner had taken the liberty to outline one door in particular all in red. The hall was empty, so Devorah approached the door, putting the package in front of it. Then she knocked.

It made no sound.

Devorah rubbed at her forehead. Why had she expected anything different? Sure, she had been modified to pick up a package, but she supposed that was it. The package was the only thing she could touch- oh. That gave her an idea.

Devorah picked the package back up, and slammed it into the door. Blessedly, miraculously, it let out a resounding knock. Emboldened, Devorah slammed it into the door, resulting in a loud bang. The door even shook a bit with the effort. By now, whoever was beyond the door certainly had heard her. But Devorah found such joy in slamming the box against the door, in proving her existence, that she did it over and over and over and over.

It did occur to Devorah that it was strange that no one came to the door, but she didn’t really care. With each bang, Devorah asserted she was here. She could touch the world, even in a convoluted way.

Until the door opened suddenly, and Devorah slammed the package into someone’s face.

“Fuck!” They screeched, falling backwards onto the floor.

“Fuck,” Devorah said too, with meaning, as she fell forward, colliding with her accidental victim. The resulting impact dissipated Devorah’s body, effectively quelling her joyous mood and reminding her that she was, indeed, just a ghost fucking around with a package that didn’t even belong to her.

For a moment, Devorah and the person she attacked- who she quickly realized was Xiao Li, Anna’s new best friend, lay next to each other on the ground. Of course it was for Xiao Li. Why wouldn’t it have been for anyone else but her replacement?

That dissipation was awful every time. There’s no way to explain it other than losing yourself, feeling your entire personhood being torn apart and then shoved back together. For all that picking something up felt grounding, this lack of agency over her own existence kept reminding Devorah of her real place in this new world.

What use could she be to anyone as a ghost, lingering in a haunted house? Maligned and ignored, cursed to slowly be forgotten?

Devorah turned on her side to study Xiao Li, who was using her good hand to rub her forehead where the package had struck her. And Devorah realized why it had taken Xiao Li so long to get to the door- she had removed her prosthetic arm, along with what Devorah was quickly realizing had to also be a prosthetic leg, on the same side of her body where she was missing an arm. Instead of putting on her prosthetics, Xiao Li had used a crutch to get her to the door. In smacking her in the face with a box, Devorah had shocked Xiao Li, knocking her crutch out from under her.

Oops.

Then again.

Devorah couldn’t bring herself to feel bad. Oh, Xiao Li was missing an arm and a leg? Boohoo! Devorah was missing an entire fucking body!

If Xiao Li was so resourceful she could make a rudimentary computer in this hell, surely she could pick herself back up again. And sure enough, Xiao Li pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“Oh ho?” She said, making grabby hands towards the box. “What’s this?”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Xiao Li grabbed her crutch and used it to move the package closer to this. “Aw, fuck. I wish I had my real arm,” she muttered, “where’s my fucking knife…”

Xiao Li maneuvered her crutch to knock a series of tools off her bed which, Devorah was quickly coming to realize, wasn’t exactly being used as a bed. Next to the bed, on the floor, Xiao Li had laid out some blankets and her pillows. Standing up to get a better look, Devorah noted that her bed had become something of a workstation. That was where Xiao Li was keeping boxes and boxes of scrap and tools, all in an incomprehensible mess. Her desk, too, was piles upon piles of scrap, cords and batteries. How this room hadn’t already gone up in flames was a mystery, especially as Devorah watched Xiao Li casually throw a blowtorch to the side in her quest for a knife.

As a test, Devorah nudged a wrench with her foot. As predicted, nothing happened.

Eventually, Xiao Li found what she was looking for. Using the knife, she propped the package open and peeked inside.

“Ohohoho!” She said again, eyes lighting up. Then she slammed the box shut.

Devorah blinked. That was… unexpected. She had thought Xiao Li would have opened the box entirely, right that second. Even though she was from the past, with her expertise there was no way that Xiao Li didn’t know it was a computer in that box. Based on what the inorganic AI Devorah had been talking with, Xiao Li definitely had been working to build that exact thing! So why wait?

Xiao Li stretched, then climbed back into her nest of blankets on the floor. She was still giggling and making unintelligible muttering sounds, but it was clear that she intended to go back to sleep. Oh, to have that luxury.

For once in Devorah’s life… Un-life, death- luck was on her side. Xiao Li hadn’t gotten up to close the door yet, if she intended to at all, so Devorah had an easy way to slip out. As much as she’d like to just stand there and watch Xiao Li sleep and contemplate being replaced and oh, of course, think about how Anna clearly didn’t miss her, Devorah left the room.

Once again, the hall was empty, but it didn’t matter as much this time. There was nothing that anyone could do to see Devorah at this point, unless you were the doll.

Hmmm.

So the doll had a name. Shell. It was pretty enough, for a monster. And Kefilwe knew that name.

Devorah paced up and down the hall. How did the doll get its name? Was it an older AI, one who learned so much about people that it adopted a name for itself? Did the game designers give it a name, to make it seem less inhuman?

But the way it had begged and pleaded with Kefilwe, that didn’t seem very machine-like. Maybe Shell was something like Devorah. Maybe she was a person, once. Was it possible she had been forced into this place, much as Devorah was? As much as Devorah would hate to play host, she could see the appeal. More freedom, more screen time, if you cared about something like that… The ability to talk to the living, make sounds, cast a shadow as you walked…

And Shell. A seaside name. The ocean…

A warning pang wracked through Devorah’s head. She didn’t understand. The ocean? Why couldn’t she think about the ocean? What was down there? Or who-

Another shock wave of pain, this one even more intense.

Devorah braced herself against the wall until the bursts of pain subsided. Okay. No deep thinking about the ocean. Ocean was banned. For now.

But there was one more thing Devorah was curious about, and when she tentatively poked this train of thought, there was no pain.

Kefilwe had made Shell promise not to hurt Nour and Mathilde. How did Kefilwe have that kind of power over Shell?

Was it possible that she was the Champion?

Either way.

Devorah opened up her notification window to see two messages- one from the AI and one from Riley.

She checked Riley first.

Hello Devorah,

The analyst mentioned that it was able to get in touch with you. You’re welcome, by the way! In exchange, I’d love if you could do me a favor.

-Riley

Brand Partnership Manager

Champion's League

Oh god not another one.

I’d love to help you any way I can, Riley!

Next message.

The data has indicated that the package has been delivered. You have been a great help. Note that your abilities have been adjusted to better facilitate movement, and that your energy intake has been increased as well. Should I need the assistance of someone with a closer approximation to a physical form once again, I will request that you consider being of aid once again.

I apologize for the frog incident.

While Devorah was unsure if there would ever be any real benefit to a relationship with Riley, this partnership with the AI analyst was already bearing fruit.

Please don’t worry about the frog incident- it’s already been forgotten. In return, please forget about witnessing my mental break. Thank you for your help. I look forward to working with you again!