A beam of morning sun passed through the window at an angle that hit Dimitri right in his eyes. He raised his arm to shield himself from the glare. The room he woke in was calm, peaceful, serene enough to make him feel as if he hadn’t experienced the worst rejection in his life just hours ago. “Where am I?” Dimitri croaked. “And ughhh… What’s that smell?” he asked as a pungent stench filled his nostrils.

“You’re finally awake.” Ilya passed him a bowl.

“What’s this?” asked Dimitri, looking into the soup.

“It’s going to get you in the right spirits again,” she said.

Dimitri took a chance and brought the bowl to his lips. The first sip had been enough to convince him that she had not fed him a poison that had destroyed his olfactory nerves, for a pleasant fragrance had displaced the miasma of chemicals that just moments ago had muddled his senses.

He gulped the rest of it down. To his amazement, the stench vanished.

“Wow, what is this stuff?”

“It removes your sense of smell,” the girl replied.

“What?” Dimitri exclaimed.

“Only temporarily,” Ilya added quickly upon seeing his panic.

“You should have told me that before giving it to me,” said Dimitri.

“You looked like you wouldn’t be against the idea.”

Dimitri thought about the struggle to keep a straight expression while the rancid scent had proliferated his nostrils earlier and couldn’t deny she was right.

“You guys drink this stuff?”

“Most of them do. Daily. But I don’t. It interferes with my work.”

Dimitri nodded. “Thank you.”

This girl wasn’t as simple as she seemed. A few mouthfuls of her concoction was all it took for his mind to regain its clarity almost immediately. Dimitri had never known any substance that had such properties. It wasn’t a panacea by any means, but he thought it sure came pretty close.

“Don’t be afraid. Nothing’s going to happen to you here,” she said to Dimitri, interrupting his thoughts. Had her innocence not been so evident in her eyes, he would almost have believed her.

Dimitri attempted a smile and told Ilya that she was a good cook. A strange expression came over her face before she replied that she didn’t enjoy cooking except for the few elements in the activity which were similar to experimental chemistry, and she delighted in boiling a great many medicines for her people. Finding a sound remedy was one of the numerous puzzles she was always only too eager to solve. with and grateful for the girl who had been kind enough to take him in.

Dimitri felt safe in this strange colourful room that couldn’t be further from all that he was familiar with. Dimitri thought for a moment and considered that perhaps that was precisely the reason why it was comforting. He needed to get away from everything. Somehow, the girl had known that, Dimitri realised. But she hadn’t said anything that might wound his pride, nor had she asked about the cause of his distress. He was immensely grateful for that.

“Where are we?” Dimitri surveyed the room. The tent of fabric was far taller than any he had seen before. It had a simple cloth for a door. The walls were lined with tapestry, lanterns, quilted curtains and other frivolous things. Upon closer inspection, it seemed, the room wasn’t as foreign as it appeared to be. The drapes of fairy lights belied large columns of machinery, a whole array of mechanical inventions and vials of chemicals with colours he had never seen. Never would Dimitri have imagined that the austere village housed such complicated equipment comparable to those used in some of the world’s leading laboratories. They were a little rusty, fraught with signs of wear and use, but it was clear the sophistication of those machines were far above elementary. Dimitri wasn’t sure he knew how to operate some of the tools. There was one thing he was certain about—her tiny shack easily put some of the labs he used to work in to shame.

“This is my village.”

“How did I get here? The last thing I remember is being stranded in the middle of nowhere with you. Then a really pungent odour.”

“You fainted when we were reaching.”

“And you carried me the rest of the way?” He eyed the girl’s slender limbs and thought it was impossible that she could have shouldered a man almost twice her weight on her own.

“What do you think?” Ilya put her hands on her hips, bemused.

She must have called for help. There’s no way—

“Anyway, I’ve had a look at your skin,” said the girl, interrupting Dimitri’s thoughts.

“What? Why? Where’s the village doctor?” asked Dimitri.

“You’re looking at her.” Ilya lifted his arm and started scrutinising. “I haven’t seen anything like it before. But I’m sure that isn’t surprising to you,” she continued. “The good news is, I’m always up for a challenge.” Then she flashed him a hopeful smile.

“Right,” Dimitri said patronisingly, disbelieving. “And I’m the one who built all these machines.”

Ilya frowned. “No. Actually, I did,” she said with a serious expression. Then she proceeded to explain how it started. In her early teens, Ilya had stumbled upon a basic computer. It was a miracle that it had still been in working condition by the time it arrived at their village. Nobody wanted it because nobody had known what to do with it. But Ilya had always had a natural affinity with machines. She started it up after pressing a few buttons and was using it to get the basics of the information she needed soon after. The learning turned out to be unexpectedly enjoyable, though the computer’s speed had been painfully slow. Once she knew enough, Ilya gave up using that one completely and started building her own. There was no shortage of materials in the backyard of an e-waste village anyway. Still, it was a wonder how she had been able to create sophisticated systems with scraps of metal, plastic and wiring all on her own. The new computers she had built were mini-versions of supercomputers. She didn’t have a lot of space to work with in the beginning. Later, her neighbours had been nice enough to move away to provide her more space…

At first, Dimitri thought she was just concocting a story to bluff him, but the more the girl talked, the more he realised she meant every word.

“You learnt everything all on your own?” he asked.

“Not everything. I just invested most of my time in acquiring medical knowledge and biomedical engineering skills. I thought expertise in those two areas would be most beneficial for my people.”

Dimitri felt a myriad of emotions. Ilya had educated herself to such high scholarship under impossible conditions. He couldn’t believe that the girl seemed only to grow more incredible the more he learnt about her. But he also felt betrayed.

“Is this some sort of joke?” He looked at the girl, incredulous.

“I’ve been answering you honestly.”

“Oh, now you’re being honest? Why didn’t you tell me you were the doctor you were referring to?” he asked accusingly, raising his voice. Dimitri couldn’t hide his disappointment. The delicious tonic she had offered him a while ago was one thing, but his illness was serious, brought on by a poison created only by the top minds of the world. Was this a joke?

“Would you have followed me if you knew?” Ilya shot back.

Dimitri kept silent.

“Yeah. Didn’t think so. I didn’t tell you because I know enough how you and everyone else think. You create certain expectations of how you expect someone to be and then when they don’t fit the image you’ve conjured in your mind, you look for their flaws, look for areas where they aren’t enough, and then you judge them even when they offer to help you.” The girl bit her lip and looked away. Dimitri could tell she was regretting the kindness she had shown him in the first place.

“I’m sorry. I … Look, thanks for offering to help, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving the state of my skin in the hands of a stranger after all,” said Dimitri. Judging from her young age and bumpkin background, he would never have guessed therein resided a brain on par with some of the geniuses in the world. The girl’s level of intelligence was too incredible to ignore. Even if he had successfully eluded the Council, Dimitri was more than certain the Council would make contact with the village soon. The island facility was always scouting for new talents. Often, they would uproot worthy geniuses by presenting an offer any researcher would find difficult to refuse—the girl fully fit the bill. Then it wouldn’t be long before they were hot on his heels. His safety was only temporary. This place could only be a temporary refuge.

Ilya didn’t bother hiding her frown. “Wait. Then why’d you come here?” she asked, confused. “I thought you wanted my help.”

“Actually, I was intrigued by your legs,” he said. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean it in a weird way. I just meant … I saw the prosthetics you wear. They’re unbelievable. I’m a mechanical engineer too. Your work is… it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. I guess I came here to study them. I want to learn from you,” he quickly added after Ilya gave him a quizzical look.

Ilya’s expression softened then, but Dimitri didn’t get a chance to hear her response, for a whisper came from outside just then, interrupting their conversation.

“Ilya has a visitor.”

“And it’s a stranger,’ said another quiet voice.

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

“I’ve never seen one before.”

“Me neither.”

Ilya and Dimitri turned to locate the source of the musings. Two pairs of eyes blinked back from the window.

“Amelia, is that you?” Ilya asked.

“We’ve been discovered! Retreat!” a high-pitched voice said playfully.

Dimitri watched as Ilya raced towards the door. Laughter ensued as she caught up with the two rascals and ushered them inside.

The two girls who couldn’t be older than five hid shyly behind Ilya’s long skirt after she set them down.

“Hello,” said Dimitri. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck awkwardly, as if unsure what to do with himself. His effort seemed to make the kids feel more comfortable because they stepped out from their shield to face the stranger.

“I’m Dimitri. And who might you be?”

“Kaitlin,” said the taller one, stepping out to greet him with a curtsy, her mechanical legs poised elegantly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Dimitri tipped an imaginary hat, which elicited a giggle from the girl. “And you?” he said, bending a knee to meet the smaller one at eye level.

“Amelia!” A voice rang from outside just then..

“I’m so sorry, Ilya. I hope Amelia’s not causing you any trouble again.”

“Not at all, Jordan. She was just getting to know Dimitri.”

“Oh.” Jordan looked at the stranger and nodded as if noticing his presence for the first time.

“He’s a stranger,” Amelia whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

“He’s Ilya’s stranger.” Kaitlin reiterated in an even louder whisper. “But I thought strangers are not allowed here.”

Jordan hushed them gently. “I’ll bring these two home for now and leave you to your work, Ilya,” he said.

“I want Ilya!” the smaller girl shrieked.

“Amelia, please don’t start,” Jordan said.

“But I want Ilya,” the girl protested, stamping her feet.

“You know she’s a very busy person.”

“Ilya’s always busy.” Amelia said with a pout.

“Come on, be good. Ilya has to help other people now. Helping others is more important than playing, isn’t that right?” Jordan coaxed.

“I guess,” she reluctantly agreed but her frown didn’t budge.

“Thanks, Jordan,” Ilya said gratefully.

“No problem. Do you have any deliveries to make today? I can help you drop them off on my way back.”

“As a matter of fact, I have a couple.” Ilya disappeared under the table for a few moments before she reemerged with bundled packages in her hands. “These are for Aunt June and the kids. If you could drop by, that would be great. Thanks Jordan.”

Jordan took the packages from Ilya. He gave a Dimitri curt nod before leaving with Amelia in one hand and Kaitlin trailing behind them, giving Ilya one last forlorn look as she left.

“The kids seem to really like you.”

“They’re really sweet. I wish I had more time for them, but there’s always so much to do.”

***

Ilya was a little relieved, slightly disappointed, but mostly surprised when she woke and saw Wynonna beside her. She had half-expected the droid to never return.

“I have completed the mission,” Wynonna said.

“What?” Ilya replied in disbelief.

“I’ve found you the perfect companion. He’s a perfect match for you.”

Ilya stared at her, dumbfounded. She thought she’d never hear those words. That’s impossible, she thought.

“His name is Dimitri. He is highly intelligent, an expert mechanic (exact level of expertise unknown) and has a persevering spirit. He is currently upset about the poisoned skin which was brought about by a Council (details unknown). He believes the council is attempting to poison the world (reasons unknown) and he believes that broadcasting this news to people will somehow help in stopping the council from carrying out their plan. He attempted to cut off the poisoned skin but you stopped him. He knows you have mechanical legs and is impressed by your skill. He finds you physically attractive. I hope you find him a more than satisfactory option. I think you might like him. He’s in the main room.” Wynonna pointed. “He fainted upon entry into the village, but I administered some medicine. He’ll be up soon.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Ilya in complete honesty. It was impossible that Wynonna could have completed her assignment at all, not to mention so soon. Ilya, of all people, should know. She had given Wynonna the ridiculous instruction in a moment’s jealousy.

“Find me a man who could love me just as much as I love him,” she had said. That was probably one of the most difficult tasks in the world. To be precise, it was an impossible task because Ilya had designed it to be that way.

It was never Ilya’s intent to get rid of Wynonna, at least not permanently—that would go against the very reason why she had created the bot in the first place. She merely planned to let it wander for an indefinite period, then recall the droid when she deemed it was a suitable time. It wouldn’t be very long until then, anyway.

She had gone through some pains in order to send Wynonna away on a wild-goose-chase. To make the desire for her absurd request seem convincing, Ilya had even developed and installed in Wynonna a custom love-algorithm which could supposedly determine the compatibility percentage between herself and any other individual within observable distance from Wynonna, except, she had purposely made it not work the way it was supposed to. She had implemented a specific rule as a safeguard against the already miniscule probability of the occurrence of a 100 percent result from ever occurring. Technically, Wynonna should never have been able to complete the mission because it had been sabotaged by her creator.

Given that, there shouldn’t have been any reason why Wynonna might return someday earlier than expected. It would take at least a few years, even for Wynonna to wander across the whole world. She just didn’t think Wynonna would return so soon.

“Where is he?”

“Right there.” Wynonna pointed again.

“Right.” Ilya composed herself. Then she tried to display a reasonable amount of anxiety and enthusiasm as she walked across the room.

She peeked through the curtain-door to see a young man lying sound asleep on the couch.

“How did you convince him to come here?”

”You have promised to create an antidote for him.”

“What?” Ilya raised her voice.

“He is in search of a cure for his disease. I lured him here with the promise of one,” Wynonna explained in a hushed tone.

“But you know we don’t have it.”

“I told him you were capable of making one.”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“I’m sorry,” said Wynonna, an automatic response whenever she sensed displeasure in Ilya’s voice. “I thought you would be pleased.”

Still recovering from the shock from Wynonna’s unexpected return, Ilya couldn’t clearly decipher immediately what this meant. Typically, a creator should possess a complete understanding of one’s creation. But this axiom didn’t apply here, because Ilya knew better than anyone that Wynonna wasn’t just any regular invention.

One question gnawed at her mind. Did Wynonna know it was impossible for the algorithm to ever achieve a 100 percent result?

She had proclaimed it as the key criteria–the only criteria–that was necessary for her potential partner. The algorithm had been fine-tuned to take care of all other aspects.

Confronting the droid was out of the question. Besides, any efforts to clarify the matter wouldn’t change anything. It would be difficult for Wynonna to admit she knew the algorithm was deliberately coded to never succeed. After all, Wynonna had been raised to think that her job is to strive for perfection. To admit that Ilya had made a mistake would be difficult because it would be akin to admitting that she, as one of Ilya’s creations, could be in some ways fundamentally flawed. In any case, the droid was lying about having found the perfect partner. And if Wynonna knew about the flaw in the algorithm and yet still thought it a good idea to bring Dimitri to her, it meant the droid was also hiding her discovery that her creator had lied to her.

Either way, Ilya knew one thing for sure. The droid was capable of deception. Granted, the lie Wynonna was telling might have been in Ilya’s best interests, but nevertheless, it was still a lie. How long had this been possible?

Ilya felt a sudden strong urge to shut Wynonna down once and for all. It had become a familiar sensation in recent months ever since the past few upgrades to her system were remarkably successful in rendering Wynonna to be a perfect double for Ilya. Every now and then when she saw how immaculate Wynonna was in her role as a substitute for her maker, Ilya would experience a wave of jealousy towards Wynonna coated with a layer of anxiety. The unease had steadily built up within her and eventually culminated in the decision to send her beloved droid out of her sight.

As all these thoughts crowded her mind, Ilya attempted a more appropriate expression before bracing herself to face the stranger again, for she could not believe the droid was the same one who had left her home just two weeks prior.

Ilya studied her inscrutable face.

“I … thank you,” she said, trying to work up a genuine smile.

The upturned corners of the droid’s lips returned as a reciprocal gesture was confirmation that Ilya’s effort had been sufficient to have Wynonna fooled. Ilya didn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed that her droid’s facial expression recognition prediction model was still prone to errors.

***

Ilya had been born without legs. Her flesh rounded off below the knees. But she was quick in thinking, good with her hands and she was kind, so the adults were more than pleased to bring her what she asked for. When she made her first pair of bionic legs, they did little more than let her venture a few steps forward. But after that, she worked on an upgraded model and kept reworking. A few models later, she created legs that were up and literally running.

That wasn’t the end of her project, though. Ilya upgraded those into ones that could jump, and before long, she made them able to dance for her and climb and crawl and function in any way she wished. The townsfolk gaped at the wonder and clapped in praise, especially the ones who also possessed missing limbs of their own. It was perfectly reasonable for them to feel envious, but she sought to assure them that she would create the same joy for anyone who wished to have a similar gadget by diving into the work headfirst and only taking rare breaks to swim out for a necessary breather.

Whenever she was working on her legs, she would be stuck in the shack for days. Being physically trapped in her workshop, Ilya had no way to refuse them anyway whenever more requests came around. Even in the rare instances where she had finished all the orders received from the townsfolk, she carried on tinkering for the ones who didn’t dare burden her with a commission.

It was not a problem for Ilya despite the mountainous workload because she soon grew to enjoy making the legs and later, experimented with fingers, forearms, then shoulder blades and even bionic eyes for those who were blind. There was always a lot of work to do but she never complained.

Once or twice, a kind-hearted and ambitious youth would come along to offer her some assistance in a commendable attempt to lift some of the burden the whole town placed on her frail shoulders. But determination is sometimes insufficient. It wasn’t the fault of those innocent students that the small town didn’t have an official school nor any form of proper education for its children. These were the most eager apprentices but they soon came to realise in their own time that the level of knowledge they would have to attain was simply far too insurmountable for their feeble brains even with guidance from the most skilled master. With their new knowledge, they discovered a fresh guilt that they were taking away her precious time and energy that they had no right to take away from their people.

Ilya was the witch-doctor of the village, but she was also the only one who could teach them how to be like her. She simply didn’t have the time, nor did her body allow her to strain by with barely four hours of sleep each day. The apprentices watched her fade away and it was with heavy hearts that they dropped out of her tutelage. Ilya thus developed a seed of insecurity. Perhaps she was only good with machines and medicines. After all, they were included in her main methods of getting people to like her.

These incidents enlightened Ilya to a more dreadful truth which she had been trying to push down deep within her consciousness for a while now. No matter how much she did for her people now, she wouldn’t be able to help them in future. She was a mortal, like any other human being. It wasn’t a revelation full of self-glorification. Ilya stood alone in her workshop that day with the horror of her mortality and the implication of her death on her people. As she stood by her door, watching the people whom she had gifted mechanical limbs race and jump with their fully-organic friends, she reflected upon the significance of her abilities in the small town. The satisfaction from seeing the fruits of her toiling was miniscule in comparison to the harsh truth that once she died, her people would no longer be able to enjoy such luxuries. What would happen to the babies born without limbs then? How about the ones born without certain organs? How would the people live when there was no more witch-doctor in town?

In any other place, this wouldn’t have posed too much of a problem. People in big cities had adequate healthcare amenities and personnel to cater to their needs. The death of a doctor or two wouldn’t have a particularly large impact on the system. Small, poor towns like hers often didn’t have many doctors, and even the ones they had often weren’t particularly good or lacked the necessary equipment and drugs to be able to make a significant impact. A town like hers was unlike no other, undeniably because they had a genius like her.

Her village was thriving. For now. Because they had someone like her. The only way it would stay that way is if she lived forever.