I answered easily, “Your eyes.”

I waited a moment but he didn't move or blink so I continued, “Your eyes looked cold and calculating. A step up from the usual look of dead and lifeless. Dying, day by day. Look around and you’ll see so many eyes are already hard and bitter, making them close to lifeless. That is something that is hard to mimic unless you feel that way, live that way. But you don’t. Everything is done with thought and precision. You received orders and carried them out, without any real thought to yourself.”

“You know what else gave you away?” I didn’t wait for a response as I continued, “Doubt. The longer we knew each other more I saw confusion in your eyes. Like many you didn’t understand the purpose of such a place as the Pastel Cafe. But you didn’t let that deter you from your mission then. You pretended. Laughed with the best of them but always you held yourself back. Looking for just the right opportunity to strike. You shut yourself off and wonder if it’s your programming or something you do naturally? But the longer we knew each other the more questions began to rise in your heart. And it was easy to see them lingering in your eyes.”

“But now something is giving you pause. Doubt.” I gazed at him, “You wrestled with something until today you had come to come to some sort of resolution. It’s why you are here. But now that you are here you have yet to complete your assignment. I wonder why this is. So tell me, what are you doubting now?”

I was surprised when he was quick to answer and wondering if he had an answer to a question that had not been asked of him yet

“You. I doubt you. I doubt if you are real. You are unlike any I have come across.”

I couldn’t help but to laugh at his answer. I have gotten many responses but I’ve never been called unreal before. What did he think of me, an alien or some other prototype? How kind. It's a kinder inquiry into my being.

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“I am real. Trust me. If you pull that trigger I will bleed like everyone else.” I cocked my head, suddenly curious, “Do you bleed?”

His eyes shifted the barest inch.

“You don't know?” I asked surprise in my voice. I gave a pause. Now I was largely fuelled by my curiosity. This is the first time knowing a Prototype like him and a human having a conversation, “Do you have a heart?”

I had heard that cyborgs didn’t have a heart and it was powered with something else or they had hearts and it was enhanced.

Either way I smiled, “If you have a heart then you are more human than you care to admit.”

Having a heart meant that you were not purely machine. My parents often wondered if these kinds of prototypes were as heartless as many made them out to be. In order to act like humans they had to have some basis to act on, which meant they needed to have some kind of emotion or heart. I was curious to know the answer to this puzzle.

His voice snapped me out of my reverie, “What’s your endgame?”

“Endgame?” I wasn’t sure what this question meant.

“The reason for all of this?”

“This?”

He couldn't seem to find his words so he finally moved, waving his gun up and down.

“Ahhh, this…..” Maybe he was confused by my manner, like many. I just acted according to my beliefs. “Everyone deserved an oasis, a place of peace, do you think? I just want to contribute to that.”

His forehead wrinkled together. First sign of emotion I’ve seen since he came, “Why? All around you the world falls apart, so why? Why bother with this charade?”

I shrugged, “The better question is why not? If the whole world forgets peace isn’t that too sad? If one remembers and then isn’t there hope for rebuilding?”

Malik’s nose flared as it seemed to me he got some resolved one way or another, “You will not live to see that day.”

I gave a small smile before calmly shutting my eyes. I was quite happy with my progress in life. I would have no regrets.

Maybe I’d see my parents again….

And then I heard the gun fire…..