Chapter 10
I dream of Johar.
When I open my eyes, I still remember every detail from the dream. I am in my father’s lab, but this time, it is Johar who is lying on the table, being held down my metal clamps. My father, who is young again, leans over him and cuts open his ribcage. My head reaches up to the table edge, because I am still a child. I see Johar’s eyes. The gray-green seems dull, but he is still conscious. A small noise comes from his lips, and my child-self identifies it as a sound of pain. I walk around the table, out of my father’s bloody reach, and pet Johar’s fingers with a sticky child’s hand.
I wake up with the confusing feeling that this was not a dream, but a memory. It felt absolutely real, standing next to Johar and holding his hand. I glance at him. It is still early, and he is sleeping the light sleep of a machine-human. Surely, he knows that I am awake and is just keeping his eyes closed. Maybe he feels the same way I do, and doesn’t want to look reality in the eye. We have to forget this short episode, erase it from our memories. If only it were that easy! I cannot forget how much I needed him, and how he gave me exactly what I needed. But … a thought jerks me wide awake. I am ashamed to even be thinking this way, but the thought won’t let me go.
I could turn the cyborg off for a short time and erase last night. It isn’t as complicated as it sounds, and I had an excellent teacher in my father, after all.
No. Or maybe? I imagine returning to the space ship. It will be bad enough that I have Shazuul and Hazathel in tow. Sooner or later, someone will notice that the cyborg and I have more of a connection than just a working relationship. I know exactly what my father would have to say about it. He would despise me. Maybe even cast me out. That is a risk I cannot take, no matter the feelings I have for this gorgeous machine-human next to me.
My fingers feel around for the switch on his neck. Right before I turn him off, Johar opens his eyes. I freeze, but he does nothing to stop me. He just stares at me. That is almost enough to make me change my mind, but with the last ounce of resolve I can muster, I turn him off.
I can’t stand his unseeing, dead eyes, and close them with a shiver. It feels like I have to tell myself 100 times that he isn’t dead. How can something really die, anyway, that isn’t really alive? For the first time in my life, I wonder if what my father did was right. Sure, the cyborgs have taken over the most dangerous things from the humans, because it doesn’t matter if a machine is destroyed or not. At least, that is what I used to think. But when I look at Johar, who is lying there like dead, I don’t think that’s true, anymore. I wipe the tears away that are falling all over his body.
Would Johar want me to erase his memory? I am at least saving him from the pain he would feel when I reject him. I have to, and I will. I have no choice but to carefully edit the hard drive.
It takes me less than half an hour to erase the memories of our night together. I start with the moment when he notices that I am having a bad dream, and ends with the moment when he is looking at me while my hand is looking for the off switch. When I turn him back on, I put on a neutral face and look at him expectantly.
Johar opens his eyes.
His hand reaches for me, and I am afraid that I didn’t erase his memories completely, after all. It is the gesture of a man who wants to pull his lover to him, so he can say hello with a kiss. My heart contracts and I look away from him. At the last second, I see him looking at his hand as if it is an object that has taken on a life of its own. I exhale. It was probably just a sparking synapsis that was continuing his last thought before I turned him off.
“Why is the blanket so damp?” he asks and sits up.
“No idea,” I lie. “Maybe I was sweating. It is pretty hot next to you in the bed.”
The double entendre gives him a lazy, familiar smile.
“So,” I say crisply, and hurry into the bathroom. “We should be on our way to the space port. It is already nine thirty, I still have to pack, and I wanted to take a shower, too …” I escape into business. “Did I tell you what Sherri told me yesterday about Cassie?” I yell, while the hot water runs down my body. It is a test and insurance, at the same time, because this conversation took place during the hours I erased, as well. I am afraid I am going to make a mistake and tell him why I am telling him everything again. When I am finished, he comes into the bathroom and hands me a towel without looking at me. One would think I was a piece of wood. It hurts so much that I close my eyes, because I am afraid that he will see the pain in them.
“Is something wrong?” he asks. “You are acting strangely this morning. Different from usual.” He looks at me searchingly. I give him my most radiant smile and hurry out of the bathroom, and slam the door shut behind me.
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