Amelia was about two when she began to idolise Ilya. Jordan remembered distinctively that it was right before she started to talk. She had been too young to know how important Ilya was to their village, much less understand the reasons why. Perhaps it was because all the people in the village loved Ilya and often called her name either to ask for help or to sing praise. Or maybe it was because Ilya had a way of making the place light up with her presence as if by magic.

The true reason escaped Jordan. He had attempted to seek an explanation before and asked Amelia why she seemed to love Ilya almost as much, or perhaps even more than she loved him. His sister had burbled a string of incomprehensible words then and Jordan doubted he would get any meaningful answer if he tried asking her again.

Whatever the reason, the girl seemed to have a strange infatuation with Ilya. Jordan hadn’t known how her affection toward Ilya had formed. Even before she could speak, Amelia had been following Ilya with her eyes. The girl would reach her arms towards Ilya whenever she was in the room. Jordan has been ever grateful for all the times Ilya acceded to the girl’s silent request. Amelia had had her own squeal of delight which was exclusively reserved for Ilya whenever she picked the girl up.

It wasn’t just the girl who demanded Ilya’s attention. There wasn’t a day when Ilya wasn’t bombarded with requests from the villagers. If there wasn’t a prosthetic that needed mending, it would be a request for a gadget to replace a faulty one or a new toy for someone’s birthday. But in the pockets of time she had to herself, Amelia would sometimes wander into Ilya’s studio, and Ilya would be too kind to turn her away.

“I want to be like Ilya,” Amelia said.

Every kid in the village had the same dream.

“How can I get legs like those? I wish she would make one for me.”

“Amelia, you’re lucky to have been born with all your limbs intact and functioning, you know that?”

Like her brother, the girl had been one of the fortunate ones blessed with a complete body. Her only ailment was a slightly weak constitution.

“I don’t care. I want the rose gold legs.” Amelia pouted and turned with her back facing her brother.

“You should take pride in the colour of your skin. You’re perfect the way you are,” Jordan tried to tell her. “Why would you ever want to change any part of yourself?”

“I'd be more perfect if I had those legs,” Amelia grumbled.

“Why? Just because Ilya has them?”

“No,” she said slowly. It was obvious she was denying it just for the sake of it. “I just want one. Kaitlin was bragging to me about hers the other day.”

Ah, so jealousy was the motivator.

“It’s different for her,” Jordan said. “Kaitlin was born without legs, just like Ilya. You know how long she had to wait before she got her pair, and how she lived before that.”

“I know. But it’s like she’s suddenly become … super.”

“She was crying every other day before that, don’t you remember?”

“Now she shines. Literally.”

“No means no,” Jordan said firmly. He was also slightly worried that ‘literally’ would become Amelia’s new favourite word. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Jordan couldn’t stand the crestfallen look that had descended upon his sister’s face. He crouched down to her eye-level and spoke in a gentler voice. “You’d have to go through unimaginable pain. It’ll be a lot of blood. Do you really want that?”

She squirmed in her seat, then asked, “The pain won’t last, will it?”

“No, it won’t. Nothing lasts forever. But that’s not something anyone should ever have to experience.”

Amelia brought a finger to her chin as she pondered. “If I can get a mechanical limb after that, it might be worth it.”

“You only think that because you haven’t experienced it yet.”

“Well then how would I know for sure if I think it’s worth it or not.”

“You …” Jordan was at a loss for words. But he didn’t feel safe leaving the matter as it was. He didn’t trust that his adventurous bean of a sister wouldn’t do anything worrying if he did. She was meek in front of strangers, but Dimitri knew there was a tiny daredevil spirit in her that she showed only to her brother and her closest friends.

“You won’t,” he said, standing abruptly. The chair scraped against the floor in protest. “I’m telling you now that it wouldn’t be worth it.” said Jordan more firmly. Why was she finding it so hard to understand?

“Why? Just what can human limbs do that a robotic one can’t?” Amelia retorted.

Jordan had had enough. It was time he drew the line. Amelia couldn’t keep throwing a fit whenever she wanted.

“Feel, Amelia, feel! You can’t feel anything with a mechanical limb!” Jordan burst out suddenly and instantly regretted it.

Amelia looked at him. With her big round eyes, she looked every inch like a startled deer.

Jordan was never stern with his sister. But this was an atypical situation. He knelt down to match her eye level. In a gentler voice, he said, “Promise me you won’t do anything silly. Promise me you’ll keep yourself safe.”

Seeing how concerned her brother was over the matter, the girl nodded obediently. “I promise.”

Jordan ruffled her hair. “I knew you would understand, Amelia. You’re so smart.”

Just like that, she brightened and lifted her arms towards him to be picked up.

He scooped her up obligingly. “Oof, you’re growing so fast. Soon, I won’t be able to carry you.”

“What? Tomorrow?” she asked, her eyes full of worry.

“I think I can carry you for at least one more day,” Jordan reassured his sister.

“Good,” she said, hugging his neck.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

He would do anything for his little sister.

***

Wynonna may have brought him here, but he can never find out that she exists. In his mind, it was me who found him; it was me who brought him here; it was me whom he has fallen in love with, Ilya thought. The rest of the village can fall in love with her, but not him. He was meant for me; he belongs to me. What would he think of me if he knew I created Wynonna? What would he think of her? If he got to know her, what would he think of me?

Ilya was going about this all wrong. The fact was, Dimitri had already met Wynonna. But he didn’t know that Ilya and Wynonna were two separate individuals. And if he never finds out about her, he’d have no reason to compare. He wouldn’t have any reason to think otherwise.

It was not like Ilya could ask Dimitri for the exact moment he had fallen for her. Well, technically, she could, but if she was being honest with herself, she was afraid of the answer.

Ilya was starting to fall for Dimitri… more than she had expected to.

She had been slightly upset by the conversation they had over the silly notion of beauty. She was surprised when she found herself worrying whether Dimitri cared about such things. The girl had never been one to mind too much others’ opinions. Everyone had the right to their own, along with the right to speak of it, or to keep silent. There was no distinction between pretty and ugly. There was only ‘different’. And that could hardly be counted as anything bad according to the way of her village.

But Dimitri had not grown up in her community. He had been raised by other people, with a set of values which varied (though she didn’t know by how much) from the ones her village upheld. Surely, the notions he had developed and lived by from before he arrived would be as hard as any to change. Though the man had laughed with her and praised her for her wisdom, she couldn’t help the vague sense of unease that crept into her heart. He had made it clear that at least before he had been changed, he shared the same absurd belief about the ‘wholeness’ or ‘wholesomeness’ of beauty that she would never be able to comprehend.

Ilya cared about Dimitri’s opinion because she cared about him. She had never known herself to care for anybody the way she did for Dimitri.

Ilya had reached the marriageable age a few years ago and a flock of suitors fought at the door of her workshop for a chance to be invited in. The other villagers were all tinkerers to a certain extent, but of the few who shared her passion for more sophisticated technology, none proved to be a satisfactory conversationalist. Though most of them made commendable efforts to please her and were more than happy to entertain her whenever she unconsciously delved into a monologue about her project or spoke aloud as she worked, none of them were able to participate. When asked for their opinions, they would often smile and either nod, hoping to seem like they understood, or ask to clarify a point, or repeat her question to mask the fact that they hadn’t the slightest clue what she had been going on about.

Finally Ilya met someone who matched her in her desire for intellectual stimulation and with whom she could engage in riveting conversations. Her eyes sparkled as Dimitri spoke. She was amazed that there were so many other things he knew that she had never even heard of. They spent hours taking walks in the wilderness debating and discussing, never tiring. Dimitri seemed surprised by her numerous times. He had admitted to her that she was a lot more knowledgeable than he had assumed.

They were in a particularly ferocious argument once, when Ilya suddenly burst out laughing while Dimitri stared, stunned and puzzled. She apologised for her behaviour because it just occurred to her that this was one of the things she enjoyed the most. She was thoroughly relishing the opportunity to have heated intellectual debates with someone and had never known her desire for such to be so great. It surprised her how much the interactions with him satiated her thirst. No matter what Dimitri talked about, it was always a subject of fascination to her.

He was everything she never knew she wanted in a man and so much more. She never imagined she would enjoy spending time with someone as much as she enjoyed his company. Up until that point, Ilya hadn’t paid much attention to boys. For all the attention she received from the suitors that came flocking by, either because of her beauty or her mind, none had managed to convince her that a union was a favourable prospect for a woman. She held her own ideals and, contrary to her seemingly docile appearance, would never relent to the conventions of society surrounding marriage.

But the more time she spent with Dimitri, the more she understood why so many women had chosen that path. Ilya was not one to harbour a particular attachment to anything or anyone. She was wiser than that, and her work had given her an easy excuse to put an end to any patronising. Despite that, she had found something in her interactions with Dimitri that was interesting, rare and surprisingly precious. He was someone she held dear.

Even when sometimes some of the villagers came round to steal him away from her for a few moments, it disturbed Ilya more than she cared to admit. It was illogical and completely unreasonable, and Ilya hated that she felt this way. She never thought she’d be one to need someone in her life. She wasn’t going to depend on Dimitri just because she felt a great attraction towards him, she was more than capable of taking care of herself. But for some reason—was it because of the fact that she had never had such stimulating conversations?—she felt he was different. Dimitri was different from the rest of her village folk. But it wasn’t just that. Though she hadn’t met many others from outside her circle, the exclusive affinity was undeniable. Just what was it that distinguished him from everyone else?

Ilya tried to scrutinise even the most minute of the details of all their interactions, determined to find an answer. Was it his face? His voice? The way he walked? What about his gestures? Was it the smile? Or the eyes? Or the hair that framed his face? Was it the way he talked? Because of how it gave away what went on in his mind? It was none of those things, yet it was all of those things in agglomeration. It was so strange how all those things were not unique to him, yet somehow different permutations of those qualities conjured different people. There had been a unique key in his experiences and DNA which mapped directly to the person whom she had claimed as the target of her affections. Though Ilya realised later that whatever efforts she made, she would never reach an answer, that was probably the answer she had to take.

Now, love was finally starting to make sense to Ilya.

Love is thinking that meeting the person you have fallen for is the best thing that has ever happened to you. Love is when you love somebody so much that you think you would never want to be with someone as much as you want to be with them. Love is when the feeling you have towards someone makes you doubt that whatever you thought was love before, hadn’t actually been love at all.

In love, Ilya had found a new science she was utterly unfamiliar with. It seemed a humongous black box that held an infinity of black boxes within. It was as destabilising as it was fascinating. And it felt wonderful.

Objectively-speaking, he was just a man. But he was different from all the other men Ilya had ever met. He must be. Because he was the only one she was attracted to. Just who was he to have casted this sorcery upon her, to have instilled a strange affection within her that seemed as if it would never go away. It was frightening, incredible and burdensome all at the same time. For the first time in Ilya’s life, she was truly afraid. She had never known to fear anything even in her childhood, for her people were carefree by nature, and as her knowledge and abilities grew, she had somehow been deluded into thinking that she could have anything she wanted, she could make any gadget possible, and she could do it all on her own.

Ilya enjoyed Dimitri so much, too much. She loved being in his presence to the extent that it seemed ludicrous how she had survived so many years in his absence. It was as if she was a new boat that had waded out to sea for the first time. She had set sail, and so long as she was heading towards the sun, farther into deeper waters, she would experience that enormous bliss. Never again would she see the shore. She would never be content if she was yet again stuck on sand. Now that she knew how it felt to be carried by water towards unknown adventures, she would sooner sink before she ever docked.

Dimitri didn’t belong to her. And he wouldn’t, no matter how much she wanted him to. He was his own person, just as Ilya was her own. He was free to leave whenever he wished, and neither she nor anyone else would have the power or the right to stop him.

For the first time, Ilya realised she wanted somebody to be a permanent part of her life. Now that Ilya had discovered love, she found new fears of potential heartbreak, abandonment and loneliness. All of which were foreign feelings to her and extremely uncomfortable. But she let herself feel every sensation, because she knew that they were inextricably tangled with the beautiful thing others have universally agreed to call love.