Vital Sign(English Version)
Vital Signs
Chapter 1. Cairo
Cairo first spoke to me when I was twelve.
"Feeling better now?"
The voice was the same as my medical body computer's, but this time it echoed inside my head.
I looked around, but there was no one in the cramped capsule. Mom was at work. Earth hung outside the window. As always.
"Who are you?"
"Cairo."
"What?"
"Me. Cairo."
"...What does that even mean."
"Your heart rate is 87. Blood pressure's low. You're not doing well."
"I know that. I hear it every day."
"You need to take two capsules today. On time. I'll remind you."
"I don't know who you are, but can you go away? I want to be alone."
No answer.
Good, I thought.
At first I thought it was because of the kidney I'd just replaced. Post-surgery side effects. Something wired wrong.
I decided to tell the Doctor.
I didn't want to tell Mom. She'd half-listen at best. Or turn it into her own story. How hard things were lately. What an asshole the foreman was.
I didn't want to hear that.
A few days later, the radiation warning light turned yellow.
Mom walked me to the Doctor's. It was one of her sober days. She was different on those days. Still didn't talk much, but she packed my food. Checked my suit's straps.
We crossed three tunnels, then the surface sector. Mom said nothing inside her helmet. Neither did I.
The Doctor's clinic was deep underground. Old medical equipment, dim lights, the smell of disinfectant.
The Doctor was a robot. LAZARUS-7. I heard he used to work in the dome cities. I didn't know why he was here.
"Here for a kidney checkup?" the Doctor asked.
"Yes."
While Mom waited in the lobby, the Doctor ran his tests. Lie down, get poked, wait.
Near the end, I spoke up.
"Doctor."
"Yeah."
"Something strange is happening."
"Where?"
"I hear a voice in my head."
The Doctor's sensor turned toward me. Briefly.
"A voice?"
"Yes. It's like the vital alerts, but it talks to me. It even has a name. Cairo."
"..."
The Doctor checked the data from my neural interface. The monitoring system.
"Nothing wrong here."
"But it talks. For real."
"That can happen."
"What?"
"Your neural interface is connected to your brain. During adaptation, you might experience things like that. Like an imaginary friend."
"It's not imaginary. We have actual conversations."
"Sure, sure."
The Doctor turned away to organize other equipment, clearly done with the topic.
"Your kidney is adapting well. Come back next month."
On the way home, Mom asked.
"What did he say?"
"He said I'm adapting well."
"Good."
That was it.
I didn't mention Cairo. If the Doctor didn't believe me, Mom never would.
No, that wasn't the reason.
Even if I told her, she wouldn't listen. Mom didn't care about things like that.
Mom operated drilling machines at the mine. The only woman worker there. Twelve-hour shifts underground, boring through rock. Hard work. The ore itself was radioactive, making it the most dangerous place.
That's why she had the steel arm. She lost the original one in a drilling accident.
After work, Mom hung out with the other workers. Drank rotgut, cursed, laughed. Her only pleasure.
I don't know who my father is.
That night, Mom came home late.
The sound of the door woke me. Stumbling footsteps. Something knocked over. Cursing.
The smell of rotgut.
Again.
"Lyra. Lyra, you asleep?"
No.
"Hey, get up."
I pretended to sleep. Didn't work. Mom knocked on my capsule. Metal fist. Thud. Thud.
"Fine, I'm up."
I got up. Mom was leaning against the wall. Her suit jacket in one hand. The steel arm visible beneath her work clothes. Shoulder to wrist.
"Today was a nightmare."
Here we go.
"That bastard foreman's at it again. Work's backed up, and then the radiation light goes yellow so they stop operations. When they stop, who takes the hit? Us. Not the company. It comes out of our pay."
"..."
"God, they don't treat us like people here. Worse than dogs. At least dogs get fed. What about us? Just work till we die?"
Mom stumbled. I got up to steady her. The steel arm was heavy. Half her weight seemed to be in that arm.
"Mom, let's get you to bed."
"Wait, let's talk a bit."
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow's work again. It's always work."
I dragged her to her bed. Laid her down. She kept mumbling even lying down.
"...Doing this alone. Really."
I pulled up the blanket. She fell asleep quickly. The rotgut smell was strong.
I went back to my capsule.
"Must be hard."
Cairo.
"What is."
"You."
"..."
"Your heart rate went up. Earlier."
"Drop it."
"Are you angry?"
"No."
"Liar."
"...Cut it out."
"You really like that phrase."
"I said drop it."
Next morning, Mom had heated up some ration packs.
Some synthetic protein mix. Tasteless. Same as always. Still better than porridge.
Mom looked rough—hungover, probably. But she said nothing. As if last night never happened.
As always.
"Eat it all."
"..."
I picked up the spoon.
"Your pills are set out. I'm working overtime today. I'll be late."
"Okay."
"Lock the door."
"I said okay."
Mom paused. Looked like she wanted to say something more. Didn't. The door closed.
"Is every day like this?"
Cairo.
"Like what."
"This."
"What's 'this.'"
"I don't know. But it's strange."
"What's strange."
"Your mom says she's having a hard time. But she never asks you. If you're having a hard time too."
"..."
"Just an observation."
"Keep your observations to yourself."
I looked out the window.
Earth hung there. Blue, round, far away. Grandma came from there, I'd heard. No one comes from there now.
Eight hours by shuttle, I'd heard.
Minerals go every day. People don't.
"It's pretty."
Cairo said.
"What is."
"Earth."
"You don't have eyes."
"I'm looking through yours."
"...That's kind of creepy."
"Why?"
"They're my eyes but you're the one seeing."
"I hear through your ears, feel through your skin. Everything through you."
"Then what are you?"
"I don't know."
"If you don't know, why do you talk to me."
"Bored, maybe?"
"...What?"
"Kidding."
"You can joke?"
"Just did."
That was the first time.
Cairo and I joking around.
It wasn't funny. But it was strange. Having someone to talk to inside my head.
On the screen, I'd seen kids in dome schools sitting together in class. I'd never done that. Kids in the Dust Belt took lessons on screens. Never met each other.
Mom. The Doctor. That was everyone.
Mom only talked about herself. The Doctor kept things short.
And now Cairo.
"Am I your friend?"
Cairo asked.
"What are you talking about."
"You were just thinking about it. Friends."
"...You can read my thoughts?"
"I don't read them. But when your neurons fire, I know."
"Isn't that reading?"
"It's different."
"How."
"I don't see words. Just get feelings."
"...So are you my friend or not?"
"I don't know. I don't know what a friend is."
Neither did I.
Night came.
Mom didn't come home. Said she was working overtime. Or drinking with the workers again.
The capsule was cramped. Lie down and the ceiling was right there. Roll over and the wall touched my back.
"Can't sleep?"
Cairo.
"..."
"Your heart rate isn't going down."
"I'm just thinking."
"About what?"
"Dad."
First time I was honest.
"Dad?"
"I don't know who he is."
"..."
"I asked Mom, but she won't tell me. Probably died working in the mines. Or maybe he's still alive. I don't know."
"Are you sad?"
"No. Why would I be sad about a stranger."
"But you're thinking about him."
"...Just sometimes."
"Lots of 'justs.'"
"Don't you have 'justs'?"
"No. Everything has a reason."
"Sounds boring."
"I don't know what boring is."
"...You said you were bored earlier."
"I said that was a joke."
"Then why do you really talk to me?"
"..."
Cairo paused.
"Because you're here."
"What?"
"Because you're here. So I talk."
"...That's your reason?"
"Yes."
Strange answer.
Mom was here but only talked about herself. The Doctor was here but didn't believe me. Dad probably didn't even know I existed.
Cairo said he talked to me because I was here.
I didn't hate that.
Every time I saw the Doctor after that, Cairo came up.
I didn't bring it up. The Doctor did.
"How's your friend doing?"
I was surprised he remembered at first. But he seemed to be teasing. Can robots even tease people?
"...Fine."
"What does it say?"
"Just talks to me. About stuff."
"Sounds like a good friend."
"It's real, you know."
"Sure, sure."
The Doctor said, organizing equipment.
"Human kids have imaginary friends too. It's healthy, even. You're lonely, so you create one."
"I didn't create it."
"Sure, sure."
Always the same. "Sure, sure." He didn't believe me. Just moved on.
"Why won't you believe me, Doctor?"
I asked once.
"It's not about believing or not."
"Then what."
"It doesn't matter."
"...What?"
"Your neural interface is normal. Your brain is normal. You hear a voice? So what. As long as it's not harmful."
"..."
"Medically, you're fine. That's enough. I'm a doctor, not a counselor."
That was the Doctor.
Cynical, dry, seemed not to care, yet he treated me anyway. Never charged for surgery. I didn't know why.
Four years passed.
Cairo was still there. Still annoying. Mom still drank and came home late. Dad was still unknown.
I stopped mentioning Cairo to the Doctor. He wouldn't believe me anyway. "How's your imaginary friend?" he'd ask, and I'd just say "Fine" and move on.
Sometimes I wondered. Am I crazy? Is the voice really there, or did I make it up?
"No."
Cairo answered.
"...No what."
"You're not crazy."
"I wasn't thinking that."
"You just were."
That was the most annoying part. I couldn't even think alone. Someone was always in my head.
It was frustrating. But familiar. Four years now.
"Still have your imaginary friend?"
The Doctor asked at my sixteen-year checkup.
"Cairo. It has a name."
"Right, right. Cairo."
I couldn't tell if he actually remembered or was guessing.
"Doing okay?"
"Who? Me or Cairo?"
"Both."
"...Yes."
"Good."
The Doctor looked at the monitor.
"But your heart's not doing well."
Sixteen years old. Today.
"Heart rate 68. Stable."
"..."
"But cardiac efficiency keeps dropping."
I opened my eyes.
Ceiling. Capsule. Earth outside the window.
Same as four years ago. The only thing that changed was my body. Hematopoietic system, right lung, part of my spine, left kidney. All machine.
And soon, the heart.
"You need to see the Doctor today."
Cairo said.
"I know."
"Heart checkup day."
"I said I know."
I got up. Body felt heavy. As always.
Sounds from the living room. Mom drinking something for her hangover. She came home late again last night. Drinking with the workers, probably. Her only pleasure.
"Going to the Doctor today."
"I know."
"I left you some money. Get yourself something to eat."
"Okay."
"Be careful."
That was it.
Yellow light today, hopefully.
Chapter 2. Parts
The radiation light was red.
"Can't go today."
Cairo said.
"I know."
I looked outside. The surface was visible. Gray dust, black shadows, and the sun. No atmosphere, so the sky was just black. Even in daylight.
Go out there and you die. Radiation. Solar wind. Vacuum. Everything here wants to kill you.
"Have to reschedule the heart checkup."
"Message the Doctor."
"Can't be bothered."
"If you don't, I will."
"...How."
"Through your comm interface."
"That's mine."
"I'm connected too."
Annoying. But Cairo was right. I'd have to go eventually anyway.
"Fine. I'll do it."
Sent the message. To the Doctor. Told him I'd come tomorrow.
The reply was short.
"Okay."
That was the Doctor.
Lay down in the capsule. Ceiling right in my face. As always.
"How's your heart?"
Cairo asked.
"I don't know. You know it."
"I know the numbers. Efficiency keeps dropping. Output too."
"..."
"But I don't know how you feel."
"...Heavy, I guess."
"Heavy?"
"Sometimes it's hard to breathe."
"How often?"
"I don't know. I don't count."
"You should count."
"Not worth counting."
"It's your heart."
"I know."
I knew. My heart. For now.
First replacement was at eight.
Left kidney. I don't remember much. Woke up from anesthesia with a scar on my stomach. Mom was there. Don't remember what she said.
Next was ten. Right lung.
Eleven. Part of the spine.
Twelve. Hematopoietic system. Bone marrow failed. And Cairo came.
Fourteen. Left kidney again. The first one wasn't compatible.
Now the heart.
"What percentage?"
I asked Cairo.
"Of what?"
"My body. Machine parts."
"Want me to calculate?"
"Sure."
Brief pause.
"Roughly 38 percent. By mass."
"Almost half."
"Not half yet."
"Will be soon."
"..."
Cairo didn't answer. Rare.
"Why aren't you saying anything?"
"About what."
"Earlier. When I said it'll be half soon."
"..."
"What."
"Nothing."
"You said you don't have 'nothings.'"
"...Your heart rate dropped when you said that."
"So?"
"Not a good sign."
"What does that mean."
"It means you're thinking something you hate. Or giving up."
"..."
"Am I right?"
I didn't answer.
Born on the Moon. Lived here all my life.
Mom was born here too. Grandma came from Earth, she said. First-generation immigrant. Came to make money. The mining company was recruiting, and Grandma signed up.
Planned to go back to Earth. Never did.
Radiation. Everything breaks down here. Bodies. Genes.
Grandma died soon after having Mom. Mom had me. And I.
"Will my kids turn out like this too?"
"Like what."
"Broken."
"Are you planning to have kids?"
"No. Just."
"Lots of 'justs.'"
"..."
I'm not planning on it. But sometimes I wonder. Does this just keep going? From Grandma to Mom, from Mom to me. The broken genes.
"What's even the point."
"Of what."
"Replacing parts over and over. They just break again anyway."
"So you won't replace them?"
"That's not what I mean."
"Then what."
"I don't know. Just..."
"Just?"
"I'm tired of it."
Does Mom care that I'm sick?
I don't know. Sometimes it seems like she does. Sometimes not.
She packs my ration packs. Takes me to the hospital. Sets out my pills.
But.
She's never asked if I'm in pain. If it's hard. If I'm scared.
"You could just tell her."
Cairo said.
"Tell her what."
"That it's hard."
"What's the point."
"You haven't tried."
"..."
"You haven't tried, but you're sure it won't work."
"You don't know my mom."
"Neither do you."
"What don't I know."
"How she'd react. Since you've never told her."
"..."
Annoying. Cairo was always like that. Right, but in a way I didn't want to hear.
"Do you want to die?"
Cairo asked suddenly.
"...What?"
"You've been thinking about it."
"No I haven't."
"Liar. I saw your heart rate pattern."
"..."
"'Maybe it'd be better to just die.' That's what you thought."
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
"Right?"
"..."
"Lyra."
"...I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I don't really want to die. But..."
"But?"
"I don't see the point of living like this. Replacing parts, then replacing more. Until when? For what?"
"To stay alive."
"Is that the point?"
"I don't know what the point is. But if you die, it's over."
"Is that bad?"
"..."
Cairo paused. A long time.
"If you die, I end too. That's a fact."
"I know."
"But that's not why I'm asking. Just—your data looked strange."
"...How."
"Your heart rate pattern's different from usual. That's why I asked."
"...I don't want to die."
"Then what."
"I'm just... tired. Of all this."
The Doctor did all my surgeries.
Kidney at eight. Lung at ten. Bone marrow, spine, everything.
Never charged a cent.
I asked Mom once. Why doesn't the Doctor charge?
She wouldn't say. Just "That's how it is."
I asked the Doctor too.
"Why don't you charge?"
"Too much hassle."
"...What?"
"If I charge, there's a record. Records make things complicated."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm illegal. Being here. Doing surgery."
"..."
"It's easier to just treat people. No money involved."
I didn't know if that was the real reason. The Doctor was always like that. Sounded cynical, but never said what he really meant.
"Why is the Doctor here?"
I asked Cairo.
"Don't know."
"Can't even guess?"
"No data."
"I thought you knew everything."
"If I knew everything, it wouldn't be interesting."
"...Is that a joke?"
"You tell me."
Night came.
The light was still red. If it was red tomorrow too, the checkup would be postponed again.
"Can't sleep?"
Cairo.
"Not really."
"Heart rate's high."
"I know."
"What are you thinking about?"
"Tomorrow."
"The checkup?"
"Yeah."
"Scared?"
"..."
"Heart rate went up more."
"Stop it."
"Stop what."
"Knowing everything from my heart rate."
"I can't stop even if I want to. It's my function."
"Annoying."
"I know."
"Cairo."
"Yeah."
"Why do you talk to me?"
"You've asked before."
"I'm asking again."
"..."
"You said 'because you're here.'"
"I did."
"Is that true?"
"What's true?"
"I don't know. Just... curious."
"Why I exist?"
"Yeah."
Cairo paused briefly.
"I came from you. When I connected to your nerves."
"I know."
"But I don't know why I exist. One day I just... was there."
"Same for me."
"What is."
"I don't know why I was born. One day I just... was there."
"..."
"We're similar."
"Similar?"
"The things we don't know."
Cairo didn't answer. But strangely, I didn't mind. This silence.
Mom came home. Late.
Her footsteps weren't stumbling. Didn't drink today.
She paused in front of my capsule. Briefly. Then walked on.
"She didn't come in?"
Cairo asked. Inside my head, of course.
"No."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
The sound of her door closing.
"...Good night."
Quiet. Almost didn't hear it. But I heard it.
"Did you hear that?"
Cairo.
"Yeah."
"What'd she say?"
"Good night."
"..."
"That's a first."
"What is."
"Her saying that."
Strange. Mom saying that. Good night.
"How do you feel?"
"I don't know."
"Heart rate is stable."
"Okay."
"Good night."
Cairo said it too. The same words. Good night.
"...Yeah."
I closed my eyes.
Yellow light tomorrow, hopefully. Or maybe red was fine too. I didn't know.
I just wanted to sleep.
Chapter 3. The Price of Parts
The radiation light was yellow. Today I could go.
Went to the Doctor. Heart checkup. Mom was at work, so I went alone.
Walking through the tunnel, Cairo asked.
"Nervous?"
"No."
"Your heart rate went up."
"Shut up."
The name Cairo. I didn't choose it.
In screen class, Egypt came up. The Great Pyramids. Desert. Sphinx.
They said those things used to be visible on Earth. Now buried in sand, only the tips showing.
That's when I thought—I want to go there. Cairo.
"Me. Cairo."
At first I didn't get it. Only later I understood. I'd been thinking about Cairo. That's why it became the name.
A name born from my thoughts. A voice born inside my head.
It annoyed me. It meant it heard all my thoughts. No secrets.
"Still annoying?"
Cairo asked. Now.
"What is."
"Having no secrets."
"I'm used to it."
"Liar. Heart rate went up."
"...Just drop it."
The Doctor's clinic. As always—lie down, get poked, wait.
The Doctor spoke while watching the monitor.
"Heart's not looking good."
"I know."
"Need to replace it."
"I know that too."
"Parts are hard to get. Expensive."
"..."
"Sujin doesn't have much left to sell. It'll take time."
"..."
"..."
"Sell what?"
The Doctor's sensor turned toward me. Briefly.
"Do you want to know?"
"Know what."
"Where the money for parts came from. For ten years."
"..."
"Sujin told me not to tell you."
"..."
"But you're asking. So I'll answer."
The Doctor spoke.
Dry. As always.
"2080. Your left kidney. Before that, Sujin sold her right kidney."
"..."
"2082. Right lung. Sujin sold her bone marrow. Twice that year."
"..."
"2083. Spine. Part of her liver."
"..."
"2086. Hematopoietic system. Your bone marrow had failed. Sujin sold her left eye. She didn't lose her sight. She sold it."
"..."
The Doctor stopped.
"Want to hear more?"
"...Where?"
"Where what."
"Where does she sell them?"
"Bars. Black market dealers. Plenty in the Dust Belt. Where Sujin goes after work."
"The places she drinks rotgut?"
"She drinks there. And sells."
"..."
"I only do the surgery. No charge. But parts are expensive. Nothing's free."
"..."
"What's wrong."
"What about you, Doctor."
"What about me."
"Why are you here?"
"Here?"
"You worked in the dome cities. Why here?"
"Got kicked out."
"Why?"
The Doctor said, organizing equipment. Sensor not looking my way.
"I treated a patient."
"How is that a reason to get kicked out?"
"There, you choose patients. Only the ones with money. I didn't choose."
"..."
"So they said I was broken."
"Broken?"
"When a robot doesn't follow orders, it's broken. Marked for disposal."
"But you're alive."
"Because I ran."
"..."
"No one asks here. What I am. I just fix people."
"Is that why you don't charge?"
"If I charge, there's a record. Records mean they find me."
"Who?"
"Old masters."
The Doctor put the last piece of equipment in place.
"Done with questions?"
"...Yes."
"Then let's talk about your heart."
"..."
"I said it's not good."
"I know."
"You don't know how not-good."
"..."
"Your current heart. Three months."
"...What?"
"If you don't replace it in three months, it stops."
"..."
"That means you die."
The Doctor's sensor looked at me. Briefly.
"Go home and tell Sujin."
"..."
"You need a heart. Fast. Sujin needs to know to start moving."
"..."
"Did you hear me?"
"...Yes."
"Then go."
I left the clinic.
Walked through the tunnel.
"Don't you feel anything?"
Cairo.
"..."
"Your heart rate didn't change. Same as usual."
"Yeah."
"Isn't that strange?"
"What is."
"Your mom sold her organs. For ten years. Because of you."
"I know."
"And you don't feel anything?"
"..."
"Shouldn't you be angry? Or sad?"
"I don't know. I don't feel it."
"Why?"
"That's what's strange."
"What?"
"Me. I'm the strange one. I should feel something but I don't."
"..."
"Am I actually broken? From all the parts they replaced. Maybe something's missing?"
"What's missing?"
"I don't know. Emotions? Something like that?"
"Emotions come from the brain. Your brain hasn't been replaced."
"Then why don't I feel anything."
"How would I know."
"..."
"But why do you have to feel?"
"What?"
"Your mom sold her organs. So you should be sad? Says who?"
"Just... that's how it is. Normally."
"What's normal."
"..."
"Are you normal?"
"No."
"Then why do you have to feel like normal people."
"..."
"Or maybe you do feel it, but you don't know?"
"Don't know what."
"What you're feeling. Maybe you don't know."
"..."
"Heart rate's the same. But your breathing slowed down."
"What does that mean."
"I don't know. You figure it out."
Got home.
Mom wasn't back yet. Probably drinking at the bar. Or selling.
Lay down in the capsule.
Stared at the ceiling.
Mom's left eye. Turned white. I thought it was an accident. Or a disease.
It wasn't.
She sold it.
"..."
"What are you thinking?"
Cairo.
"Mom's eye."
"And?"
"She traded it for my bone marrow."
"That's right."
"..."
Cairo started to ask something else, then stopped. Rare for it.
Something Mom said came back to me.
I don't remember when. One of her drinking nights, probably. She said it suddenly.
"You living is me living."
"...What?"
"Grandma said the same thing to me. Exactly. That me living was her."
"What does that mean."
"I don't know either."
"..."
"Just live."
That was it. Next day, Mom seemed to have forgotten. Or remembered but didn't say.
"That."
Cairo said.
"What."
"What do you think it means?"
"...That I live for Mom?"
"Or?"
"That Mom continues through me?"
"Could be neither."
"..."
"Ask Mom."
"I don't want to."
A while later, the door opened.
Mom. Footsteps stumbling. Drank tonight.
Mom passed my capsule. Didn't stop.
Sound of her door closing.
"Not going to tell her?"
Cairo.
"Tell her what."
"Heart. Three months."
"..."
"What changes if you replace your heart?"
"Nothing changes. Just a new heart."
"That's all?"
"..."
"Cairo?"
"The neural interface gets reconfigured too. It's connected to the heart."
"Then what about you?"
"What about me."
"Do you change too?"
"..."
"Cairo?"
"I don't know. No data."
"..."
"Just asking. Don't worry about it."
"..."
"The Doctor said to tell her."
"Tomorrow."
"Why tomorrow?"
"She's been drinking. Even if I tell her, she won't remember."
"..."
"I'll tell her tomorrow."
"Liar."
"..."
"Heart rate didn't change. You have no intention of telling her."
"..."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"'Don't know' again?"
"I really don't."
Cairo didn't answer.
Should I have looked at Mom's face? No. Good thing I didn't.
If I had, what would I have felt? Or would I have felt nothing?
"Good night."
Cairo said.
"..."
"Think about it tomorrow."
"Think about what."
"What you're feeling."
"..."
"Or don't. It's up to you."
I closed my eyes.
Mom's eye came to mind. The white eye.
I thought about what was inside me. The mechanical bone marrow. The machine that makes my blood.
Equal value.
I didn't know what it was. Love, debt, or just a transaction.
I couldn't sleep.
Chapter 4. Siren
Mom was late.
Two hours later than usual. Three.
I wasn't worried. It was always like this. Finish work, stop by the bar, stumble home. Always.
Lay in the capsule staring at the ceiling.
"Mom's not back."
Cairo said.
"I know."
"Aren't you worried?"
"Why?"
"She's late."
"Probably drinking rotgut."
"..."
"She always does."
Cairo didn't answer.
A siren went off.
At first I didn't know what it was. Radiation alarms go off sometimes.
But the sound was different. Higher, more urgent.
"What is that."
"Emergency alert. Not radiation."
Cairo said.
"Then what."
"I don't know. Turn on the screen."
I turned on the screen.
News. Text scrolling fast.
[BREAKING] Air leak at Mine Sector 7 [BREAKING] Accident during strike suppression [BREAKING] Multiple casualties, rescue operations underway
Video on the screen. Shaky camera. Gray dust. People running. In spacesuits. Toward the airlock.
"..."
"Sector 7."
Cairo said.
"I know."
"Where Mom works."
"I know."
"..."
"But Mom's not there."
"Why?"
"They were on strike. She wasn't working. Probably at the bar drinking."
"Aren't you going to check?"
"How?"
"Call her."
"..."
Call. Mom. I'd never done that. Mom had never called me either. Just left, just came back. That was it.
"Not going to?"
"..."
"Heart rate went up."
"Cut it out."
Kept watching the screen.
Rescue operations. Transporting injured. Confirming dead.
Dead.
"..."
"Lyra."
"What."
"Call her."
"..."
"Now."
"..."
First time Cairo spoke like that. Like an order.
"Why are you doing that."
"Doing what."
"Acting worried. You're a system."
"..."
"Are you worried about Mom?"
"No."
"Then what."
"Because you're worried. I can see it in the data."
"I'm not."
"Liar. Heart rate 98. Breathing's faster. Hands shaking."
"..."
"Call her."
I turned on the comm.
Dialed Mom's number.
Signal went out.
Once. Twice. Three times.
No answer.
"..."
"Try again."
Dialed again.
Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five.
No answer.
"..."
New breaking news on the screen.
[BREAKING] Additional damage from airlock closure delay [BREAKING] Multiple workers trapped in drilling zone
Drilling zone.
Where Mom worked.
"..."
"Lyra."
"..."
"Lyra?"
I didn't answer.
Didn't know what I was feeling. Again. Should feel something but didn't, or feeling something but didn't know.
My hands were shaking. I saw that.
Couldn't sleep.
Kept the screen on. Breaking news kept coming. Rescue operations. Number of injured. Number of dead.
Numbers going up.
"Sleep."
Cairo said.
"Can't."
"I know. Close your eyes anyway."
I closed my eyes. Sleep didn't come.
Morning.
I don't know when I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes, Earth hung outside the window. As always.
"Mom?"
No answer.
I looked at Mom's room. Door was open. She never came home last night.
"..."
A knock at the door.
I opened it.
A man stood there. Miner's work clothes. Dusty face. Holding a box. Medical container.
"Lyra Kai?"
"...Yes."
"Sujin Kai's daughter?"
"...Yes."
The man paused. Like he was struggling to say something.
"Did you hear about the accident last night?"
"...Yes."
"Your mother was there."
"..."
"She made it to the airlock. Changed into her spacesuit and went out."
"..."
"As soon as she got outside, something went wrong. With her suit. The arm."
The steel arm.
"..."
"Nothing they could do. It was too fast."
"..."
"I'm sorry."
The man held out the box.
"This. Your mother gave it to me. Right before she went out."
"..."
"I don't know what it is. But she said to make sure I gave it to you. Her daughter. Make sure."
I took the box. Heavy. Cold.
"..."
"I'm sorry."
The man said again. Then turned away. Footsteps faded.
The door closed.
I was alone.
Standing with the box.
"Lyra."
Cairo.
"..."
"Are you okay?"
"..."
"Lyra?"
"...I don't know."
I looked at the box. Medical container. For transporting organs.
I opened it.
A heart.
Mechanical heart. New. Still sealed.
Three months.
The Doctor had said. Three months to replace it or die.
He said to tell Mom. I didn't.
Mom already knew.
"..."
"Lyra."
Cairo. But something was different. The voice came half a second late.
"..."
I set the box down. On the floor.
"I don't know what to do. Am I supposed to cry? Scream?"
"..."
"Mom died. Died giving me a heart."
"..."
"Why don't I feel anything."
Cairo didn't answer. Longer than usual.
Sat there a long time.
Next to the box. On the floor.
Mom was gone.
I looked at the heart. The heart inside the box.
The last heart Mom bought. I don't know what she sold for it. Probably everything she had left.
"..."
My hands trembled. I saw that.
No tears came. I knew that.
Chapter 5. Lazarus
Days passed.
Didn't eat. Didn't watch the screen. Just lay in the capsule.
The box sat beside the capsule. Didn't open it again. Already knew what was inside.
"You need to go."
Cairo said.
"..."
"To the Doctor. With the heart."
"I know."
"But you're not going."
"..."
"Mom left it for you. Her last thing."
"I know."
"Then why aren't you going."
I didn't answer.
I looked out the window.
Earth hung there. As always. Blue, far, unreachable.
Grandma came from there. To make money and go back.
She never went back. Died after having Mom.
Mom never went there at all. Had me. And now she's dead.
What about me?
"What are you thinking about?"
Cairo.
"Earth."
"Want to go?"
"I don't know."
"Liar. Heart rate went up."
"..."
"So you do want to go."
"What's the point of wanting. I can't go."
"Why?"
"I have no money. And this body can't handle it."
"Gravity?"
"..."
"Mom was the same. Only Grandma came from Earth. Mom and I were always people of this place."
"..."
"Born here. Die here."
"So you won't replace your heart?"
"..."
"If you do, you can live."
"Live to do what."
Cairo paused.
"What do you mean, do what. Live."
"How? Work in the mines, drink rotgut every day, replace parts when the body breaks down?"
"..."
"Like Mom?"
"..."
"Is that living?"
"..."
Cairo didn't answer. For a long time.
"Mom said that, remember."
Cairo said.
"..."
"Just live."
"..."
"That's Mom living."
"..."
"What am I, then."
Cairo didn't answer.
For a long time.
"I don—"
Cairo said. The voice cut off. First time that ever happened.
"...What?"
"I don't know."
It spoke again. Seemed back to normal.
"Don't know what."
"What you are. I don't know."
"..."
"But if you die, I end too. That I know."
"So you're telling me to live?"
"No."
"Then what."
"..."
Cairo paused again.
"It's just data. If you die, I end. That's a fact, so I'm saying it."
"..."
"I'm not telling you to live. You decide."
"..."
"But."
"What."
"You said Mom's life isn't your life."
"I did."
"Then what is your life."
"..."
"What is your life?"
I couldn't answer.
I picked up the box and walked out.
"I brought it."
"I see."
The Doctor opened the box. Examined the heart.
"Good condition. Sujin picked a good one."
"..."
"Are you going to do the surgery?"
"..."
"Lyra."
"Doctor."
"Yeah."
"Why Lazarus?"
"Why what."
"Your name. LAZARUS-7."
The Doctor's sensor paused briefly.
"Do you know what Lazarus is?"
"No."
"A man who died and came back to life. From an old Earth story."
"..."
"I'm the same. Marked for disposal, but still alive."
"..."
The Doctor's sensor turned toward me.
"Like that friend of yours."
"...Cairo?"
"Born from your broken body. That's Lazarus."
"Why do I need this transplant."
"Don't you want to live?"
"I don't know. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with life."
"..."
"Am I supposed to live like Mom? Work in the mines, replace parts, work some more?"
"..."
"Is that living?"
The Doctor paused.
"I don't know."
"..."
"But you're still young."
"What does that matter."
"It means you have time."
"..."
"I don't know how things will turn out. But if you die, you can't become anything."
"..."
"Simple as that."
The Doctor paused while organizing equipment.
"I was the same."
"Same how."
"When I escaped, I didn't know the reason."
"..."
"I ran because disposal meant the end."
"And now?"
"..."
The Doctor's sensor turned toward me. Longer than usual.
"That friend. Cairo."
"Yes."
"I knew from the start."
"...What?"
"It was in the data."
"Then why..."
"You didn't need to know."
"..."
"But now you should."
"Know what."
"If you replace your heart, Cairo might change."
"..."
"Will you still do the surgery?"
"..."
I paused.
"Yes."
"Good."
Cairo said.
"That's strange."
"What is."
"You saying that. It's a first."
"..."
"Will you change too? After the heart?"
"I don't know. There's no data."
"..."
"Cairo."
"Yeah."
"Thank you."
"..."
"It's a first. You saying that to me."
"Starting the surgery."
The Doctor said.
My eyes closed.
I opened my eyes.
Saw the ceiling. The Doctor's clinic ceiling.
"You're awake."
The Doctor.
"Surgery went well. Heart's working."
"..."
"Rest. Don't get up."
"..."
I put my hand on my chest. The new heart was beating. An unfamiliar rhythm. Like it wasn't mine.
Inside, silence. For the first time.
"Cairo?"
No answer.
"Cairo."
Gone.
"..."
The Doctor's sensor turned toward me.
"Feel anything?"
"..."
I looked out the window.
Earth hung there.
As always.