He frowned. “Come again?”
“Here, come look.” She walked back to the work facility, trusting Atlas to follow. Her gut loosened when she heard footsteps behind her, indicating he did. Once inside, her eyes roved over the grain storage containers kept there.She waddled farther in. “Was this storage before? Those little rooms?”
“This front area was for extra supplies.” Atlas touched one of the boxes. “The barn is for the livestock, but those rooms off the main area were if some of us needed to monitor any animal closer for quarantine.”
“Quarantine rooms,” she echoed. And then breathed out, “Or bedrooms?”
Atlas didn’t reply, standing stiffly still in the entrance.
Yeah. It’s big enough. It’s just me and baby girl anyway.Anna lowered herself down to sit on one of the containers. A crib could fit in one of the back rooms with her.Better than that glass medical room.
She forced herself to meet Atlas’s eyes. Her voice started strong, but then got quieter. “I do want to stay here. Can I?”
Chapter twenty-six
Atlas
Atlas’s mouth hung slightly open. “This warehouse was meant for livestock quarantine . . .”
Retorts and reasons why she shouldn’t stay here instead of the facility were on his tongue. But they withered away. Not because of logic, but because he saw Anna sitting tall with her hands on her hips.She really wants this?His voice was strained. “But Anna . . .”
“Here, I’ll show you.” She waved her hands. “If we move some of these boxes to the side, there’s enough space for me to have a bed.”
His protests started again as she started to move the boxes. “You can’t . . .”
He regretted the words a moment later as he saw her stiffen.
“I can’t?” She stood up, a sheen of sweat on her cheeks. “Why not? Are there any rules that humans can’t live outside the facility?”
He blinked once, very slowly. “Not that I know of . . .”
“Does anyone own this?”
“There’s no real ownership here . . .”
Anna’s weight shifted as she moved her feet. “Will any of the androids be mad if I stay here?”
Atlas’s eyebrows knit together.More concerned than mad.
But Anna seemed to take his silence the wrong way, because she stumbled forward to take his hand with a pleading expression. “I want to do this, Atlas. Nora can live in that barn. But this area is perfect for me. At least to get adjusted.”
He stood, frozen. His focus zoomed in on her fingers holding him.
“Atlas.” She shook his hand, limp within hers. “Please?”
He slunk into his charging stasis. In front of him, Anna faded out as his eyes stopped providing data. Instead, his mind supplied a different moment, one that was superimposed, of Clara asking to go to Mars with him, grabbing his hand much the same way Anna was now.
Only it was different.Clara’s voice was shrill and angry. Her harsh tones replayed, retrieved from a data access point he had dormant.Take me. You owe me. I was the one that took you out of that hospital. They dismantled everyone in there, but not you. I deserve this.There was fire in Clara’s eyes as she shook his hand.I was kind to you. I’m coming with you.
An acid taste hit his tongue, as if there could be bile in his stomach instead of artificial enzymes.
In the present, as if he had instincts, Atlas roughly pulled his hand out of Anna’s in front of him. Then stood, rigid, his processors overheating. He took a deep breath and forced the data from Clara back into his memory bank and outside his working parameters.That is the past. Long buried.
The room spun as the memory faded. And then he could clearly see Anna in front of him again, tears in her eyes.It’s Anna. Not Clara.But his mind still reeled from the memories.
“Atlas? You okay?” Anna took a step forward. “Can I please stay here? There’s enough space if I move these boxes. I’m not gonna bother anyone, I promise.”
Behind her, boxes were stacked high. She pushed one to the floor, then shoved with both her hands, scooting it toward the doorway.
