Sector 2

Chapter 17

It's been six months and one trial unattended by me since my parents were accused of human experimentation. But there were also many other crimes that were listed. According to Isaac, my parents were found guilty of several cases of theft from the bank which had remained unsolved until then. The police still haven't figured out how they did it, but I had my suspicions. During the trial, my father supposedly sought mercy and defended himself by claiming what they were doing was revolutionary and could change humanity forever. My mother made no comments on the matter.

Courtesy of Isaac, the remaining 'projects' were labelled as the victims of the whole situation. Although a few of them were walking firearms, Isaac informed us that he would figure something out, hire them as police, maybe. Lexie was on the run as the most wanted in Sector 2 after being found guilty of assassinating many powerful names of Sector 2. This included people who ran for the presidential election; the cases were a mystery until the inspection of the pyramid was continued. The reason for the murders were because of Fǔqīn's pride. They strongly contended his equally strong views.

As for me, I still hadn't finished here.

---

"A'ight, I'm exhausted. 'Gonna head home. You can probably finish tonight. Just remember to lock up when you're done."

The mechanic Aurora mentioned was a tall, muscular man named Rick with a thick Australian accent. He was tan and had a mop of messy blond hair on his head, often seen paired with dirty green goggles.

"Mhm," I replied, deep in concentration. I heard the garage door open and close with a loud rattle, Ricks's faint footsteps outside.

To signify the beginning of summer, today felt especially warm. The room was stuffy and humid as I worked by moonlight and a small LED torch. The garage was relatively small: there was just enough room behind me to fit the half-serviced rusty car and slick red motorcycle. Scratched wooden benches bordered the walls with a mix of scattered tools and gismos lying atop them, abandoned mid-repair. Among them was the eye Rick offered to replace – we found the notes on myself and Mei.

We had spent months trying to figure out what Fǔqīn had done to Jon and how to fix him using only the messy scrawls and rough illustrations provided in the book. We had come so far since then.

As I sat on a chair, Jon's back leaned against my legs, his nape pointed towards me as I tinkered with the shiny mechanism. An array of tools sat on the bench beside me. Rick taught me how to use all of them and how tech worked just so he didn't need to do all the handywork. He did do all the thinking work, though. Apparently, I was on the last step of the simplified (although still thousand-word long) set of instructions Alex had written and edited over and over again. Every so often, the pong of burning metal would surround me as I welded the plating that we made onto Jon's nape.

The last component was finalised and attached. Now I just needed to wait. I stood up and let Jon lean on the stool, crouching down in front of him and waiting for his eyes to flutter open and speak my name. The anticipation was teasing, and I couldn't keep my heart rate steady. Remembering to breathe was done by reminder, rather than habit.

Finally, movement. Jon's head lifted from his shoulder. His eyes opened. He blinked. Then stared at me.

Blankly.

Thankfully, life had been breathed back into his eyes and colour had seeped back into his face, but his expression was... disheartening, to say the least. Perhaps he's just confused.

"Hello," he said. Relief washed over me before sinking into my throat. "The name's Jon. And... I'm not sure how I got here."

"I already knew your name," I managed to say.

"Oh. How so?"

I was crestfallen.

"Do you not know who I am?" My last hope strung together into seven words. The reply could shatter it in mere seconds.

"I'm sorry, I can't say I do. Am... Am I supposed to?"

It took me a while to figure out what to say. To figure out my thoughts and emotions draining out of me before coming back to overwhelm me. It was more painful than seeing him dead. Because here he was sitting in front of me, breathing and living but I couldn't hold on to anything we did before. I couldn't talk to him like we used to, I couldn't hug him, I couldn't kiss him, I couldn't breathe in his scent. He was just... there. My heart ached and my eyes felt warm and glossy.

"Yeah, kind of," I started.