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“Eighteen,” Aislin says firmly.
“Eighteen, then.”
Tap, tap. The color of the irises comes into sharper focus. The whites are just a little less translucent.
The system prompts me: Blood supply needed to achieve viability.
Yes, of course blood supply, but does it have to be right this minute?
“The computer’s blinking at you,” Aislin says, pointing at the screen.
“The eyes need blood.”
“Ick.”
“I can do a whole heart and circulatory system,” I say, reading my options. “Or I can attach a temporary artificial blood supply.”
“Do the second one.” Aislin cocks her head at the giant monitor. “It’s easier.”
The picture on the wall shifts. It’s hard to spot at first. But even the best special effects have a slight air of unreality about them. The images I’ve been seeing are amazing, but now merely amazing is becoming spectacular.
I could swear those two eyes, white balloons trailing unconnected nerve endings, I could swear they’re real. They look exactly as if they’re suspended in clear liquid. The veins and arteries going to and from the eye are attached to a plastic tube that pulsates gently at the rhythm of a human heart.
“Disgusting,” Aislin pronounces.
“But cool,” I say.
Aislin’s phone beeps and she checks the message. “Maddox,” she says, in a tone that’s both elated and apologetic. It’s the special voice she reserves for dumping me. “Sorry, I gotta go.”
“No!” I cry, grabbing her arm with my good hand. “You just got here!”
“He’s freaked about something or other.” Aislin stands and stretches. “You know how he gets.”
Yes. I do know. And I really can’t stand the guy sometimes. But I know enough not to say what I’m thinking.
“Look, it’s the weekend. I can come by tomorrow and play.”
“Okay,” I pout. “But if I get to the good stuff on my guy, I’m doing it without you.” I sigh. I don’t want to be lonely again. “You want the limo to drive you back to town?”
“Nah. Maddox is picking me up. I’m good.” Aislin leans down and hugs me. “I love you, you know.”
“Me, too.”
“Want a push back to your room?”
I gaze at the huge blue eyes hovering before me like twin earths. “I think I’ll stay awhile. I’m kind of getting into this.”
Aislin pauses at the door. “Know what?”
“What?”
“I’m really glad you’re okay.” She waves at the floating eyes. “Bye, Mr. Eyeballs.”
Aislin’s almost out the door when she pauses. “He needs a name, E.V.” She purses her lips. “Well, duh,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Bye, Adam,” she calls, and then she’s gone.
Adam. I guess if you’re going to create a man, you pretty much have to call him Adam.
I don’t really like the name, though. All my life I’ve insisted that people call me “Evening” or “E.V.,” anything but “Eve.” Eve leads inevitably to Adam and Eve, and that leads to forbidden fruit and the whole nudity thing. When you’re in middle school that entire conversation tends to go off the rails.
