In answer, Helix set off again, leading the way up the ramp. The two Tiralan who had passed them were admiring a work deeper in the gallery, and he avoided them, choosing to start his exploration on the other side. In the center of the space, there was an enormous statue, all jagged edges and gleaming metal. The shape seemed ominous, threatening, even, as he circled it, wondering why it made him feel so uneasy.

“What do you think?” Qalu asked.

“It’s terrifying.”

“Your instincts are excellent. It’s modeled after the cellular structure of a virus that nearly destroyed Tiralan a few centuries ago. Those were dark times. We went underground into hermetically sealed units and even then…”

Helix wished he could scan for the pertinent information, but the uplink she had mentioned was still malfunctioning. Everything had to be done manually, and it would likely be rude if he stopped to check his wrist unit for details that weren’t critical to continue the conversation.

“The cost was high?”

“It dramatically reduced our population,” she said simply.

“Should I offer comfort?”

“Do you want to?”

“If you require it. I promised your mothers that I would do everything within my power to provide happiness, and I believe emotional solace falls within that purview.”

Qalu chuffed, an amused sound. “While I appreciate the offer, it’s not a personal trauma. That happened long before my time. But I do find it interesting that you identified a past catastrophe without context.”

“Does that signify something special?”

“Mainly that you’re a fascinating person with untapped depths.”

Odd, thus far he had primarily considered everything he’d lost, not whether he would receive new abilities to compensate. Helix was still undecided in some regards, but he did enjoy the olfactory sense immensely. And it was satisfying to interact with the world directly, not through a mechanical avatar.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“You always say the right thing.”

She paused, studying him with evident astonishment. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that. Generally, I’m not good with others.”

“Then they were the wrong people.”

She took a soft breath. He wanted to touch her again, but from the reaction they’d received earlier, such contact should be reserved for more private moments. Deliberately, he turned away, before her eyes could pull him in, and he moved toward a piece at random, this one multimedia with colors and textures gone wild, spines jutting from the surface and swollen with a fiery hue. Somehow, as he stared at the work, it seemed to seethe, expanding and contract like a living organ. But when he looked away, the piece was static. A trick of the light? Or his mind?