Eli sat in silence with his grandfather when he was done watching, counting the minutes to dinner when he could leave, and wondered if humans like him were actually any better than a robot. He wasn’t sure.

Maybe a robot would know better how to handle the Christos situation.

What was Eli supposed to do with that kind of information? Go to the cops? Tell his parents? Confront Christos? Tell Marwan and wash his hands of it?

There was no program to run, no clear path.

Anyway, he wasn’t even sure. It was just some yellow splatter on a sneaker.

The car alarm timed out—the bad parker had given up and moved on.

They sat there, then, and Eli started to work his way through six possible quests for Eliot to go on. He started with Room to Grow so that Eliot could add another room to his house. He caught up on current events. He created a deeper connection with Heather, another of Eli’s Sims that he’d kind of forgotten about. And finally, he opted to Top It Off, which meant he’d earn wardrobe items. Eli couldn’t think of the last time he’d gone shopping or bought anything new.

Eli’s grandfather said, “Smells like corn chowder,” and Eli said, “Yup.”

Eli got up—“Well, I should get going”—then grabbed the wheelchair handles and turned the chair toward corn chowder.

“It’s seals,” his grandfather said.

“What?” Eli asked.

“Toys, not robots.”

“Seals?”

“A toy baby seal,” his grandfather said angrily. “I need a toy baby seal like I need a hole in my head.”

Eli was sorry he’d asked.

A nurse greeted his grandfather and smiled at Eli. “I can take it from here.”

“Thanks,” Eli said. “See you in a few days, Grandpa!” he called out.

His grandfather waved a brittle sidewalk arm as he got rolled into the room. “I don’t want to see the baby seal again,” he said to the nurse, and she nodded and said, “Okay, that’s fine, Ed!”

Eli went for the doors, slowing his walk deliberately so that he didn’t look like he was delighted to be leaving.

Eden

EDEN

Eden was still waiting for the drowning sensation to pass. They sat in silence for a good long while until it felt like a game—no, a standoff. Which one of them would say or do something first?

Then he said, “If I’m anything, I’m a good listener.”

She sat quietly for another long moment. Looked out the window, where the plastic bag that was stuck in the tree was cowering in the wind.

She checked her phone.

Two men were attempting to break into a vehicle.

“I have all day,” he said, sort of wryly.

She figured what the hell. Maybe it would be cathartic, like therapy was supposed to be but somehow wasn’t.