Impossible Miracles

Chapter 8
Evolution?

Len scoffed as he shuffled himself further into the pillows. Propped up, he felt like a doll on display.

Really, the comparison probably wasn't far off the mark. One touch and he would probably break like those porcelain ones both he and his sister had hated. (They stared and stared and wouldn't stop staring. At least the girl blinked.)

The doctor gave instructions to her at the foot of his bed, heedless of his heated glares. A fierce pride welled within him – not one of a brother, but one of a scientist. If the man realized some was off about the supposed "friend's" lack of panic or emotionless eyes, he didn't show it. Indeed, he was telling her to keep him in bed at all times and when to serve him what foods and liquids. As though she would heed his orders over his own.

After basking a bit in the satisfaction, he quashed it. It wasn't the kind he wanted, and continuing to think of the girl as a robot was certainly detrimental if he wanted to get further. (Had he gotten anywhere at all? Made any progress in these months?)

Perhaps the girl was not the only problem in his little project. His own mindset and prejudices were a hamper as well, albeit one that was cropping up less and less over time.

"The disease is much more advanced than when I last checked, Len. You haven't been keeping your appointments either and have been nigh impossible to contact. I don't pretend to know the least bit about what you do, but for you to have gone this far… You must have been heavily straining yourself. Overstressing. Damn it, you knew you had little time left! Why are you trying to rush to your death?"

Len wasn't sure whether to be appalled that the doctor had even assumed such a thing (not that the guy didn't have any basis for it) or to be touched that the man had lost his composure enough to yell those words in the first place. That was why he liked the man, though; he didn't mince his words and was honest, unlike those other adults.

This doctor knew about his loss – was the one who counseled him to prevent another death that same day – but he did not know what Rin had looked like. He had been suggested by his worried mentor, and by the time the man had visited, all the photos had been sloppily crammed in an attempt to hide the painful memories; it was only later he went back to the boxes and re-packed them with more care. The man must never have asked his mentor for any information either, since he didn't show any reaction, positive or negative, when the girl opened the door to invite him in after she had called him on the phone.

It was another half hour before the man finally left. He heard the click of the door as it shut behind him. He moved to get up, only to be pushed back down again by the robot.

"He said that you were too stressed. You would only be getting up to do more work and tiring yourself out more. Rest. I will get you some water."

Len was flummoxed. He didn't even notice his fish face, open jaw and all, as she left the room. It was only when she had returned and held the glass in front of his face that he managed to conjure a response. "Did you just give me an order?"

She paused, as she often did when she was in thought (Thought? Robots don't need to "think"!). "I only suggested what would have been better in the long run for you."

He sighed. Perhaps he had placed too much emphasis on the "good" and "bad" in his programming. She was even forming future plans of action based off of those principles. Then again, perhaps that wasn't a bad thing, except that that particular program was the only one that held more precedence over his words.

It looked like he would be bedridden for a long time, he mused resignedly as he took the water. The coolness was a welcome balm to his sore throat and he handed back the glass after he downed it all in one go. He handed back the cup with a nod of thanks.

After she left, he looked out the window. He could still see the sakura tree outside. "Well, it looks like it will be a race between you and me," he grumbled, propping his chin on his hand, "and here I thought I had this race in the bag."

His eyes were still glued to the outside even when the girl had returned. "Brother, is there anything you would like me to do?"

Turning to her, he considered his options – what did she need to work on the most? – but the thought process was broken by a great yawn. Surprisingly, she spoke up again.

"You're tired. You should sleep."

He waved her off. "I'm fine. It's much too early for me to sleep. Why don't you … um … sing? Which song…"

"All right. I will be singing the song alone then. You will sleep." And with just those words, she opened her mouth and the melody flowed out.

Len was not one to appreciate being surprised, especially not so often in one day. The song she had chosen was a lullaby – one of the earlier ones he had taught her, one of Rin's own rough compositions.

Did she choose it because she considered the definition of a lullaby? Or because he had liked it? Because it was one of the last remnants of his sister he had left? Besides, when had she gotten so assertive? Was it her program? Or was it…

He shook his head. Maybe he was tired. Stupid, stupid thoughts were creeping into his brain. He was starting to think too much, and the thoughts were only running in circles.

The boy didn't realize just how much his fatigue weighed him down. The lulling waves of the girl's voice were ushering him to sleep, and as he closed his eyes, he saw her there, singing. Showing off like she always did. He heard her as she was before. And just as he was pulled from the shore of consciousness, he spoke these words to her.

"Thanks, Rin."