“That was my memory, me sitting with my dad, watching the sun go down. We were waiting for the stars to come out. That’s my memory,” Charlie said angrily.

“Look again,” Elizabeth instructed, forcing the image upon her once more.

There was a hand stroking her hair. The sun was going down over a field of grain. A cluster of birds were fluttering overhead, their calls echoing out over the landscape. “I’m so happy to be here with you,” a kind voice said. He gripped the doll tightly, and smiled despite the tears streaming from his face.

“Of course, he wasn’t content with that, you had to grow up. So, he made more.”

Her arms hung off the side of the workbench. The joints were stiff enough to carry something lightweight, and her eyes were more realistic than he had ever made them before. He propped her up and extended her arms straight in front of her, carefully balancing a small tray on them, then setting a teacup on the tray. He furrowed his brow with frustration for a moment, turning a brass knob over and over until the room quivered and flashed, then everything stood still, and the little girl looked at him and smiled.

“That’s MY memory!” Charlie screamed.

“No, that’s his memory,” Elizabeth corrected.

“Jen, I swear she is more than another animatronic doll. You should see. She walks, and she talks.”

“Of course she walks and talks, Henry.” Jen’s voice was angry. “She walks because everything you build can walk, and she talks because everything you build can talk. But the reason why this one seems so real is because you’re destroying your mind with these frequencies and codes.” Jen threw her arms in the air.

“She remembers, Jen. She remembers me. She remembers our family.”

“No, Henry. You remember. Zap your head with enough of those rays and I bet you can get the teakettle to tell you about your lost family.”

“My lost family,” Henry repeated.

Jen took pause, looking regretful. “It doesn’t have to be that way, but you need to let go of this. Your wife; your son, they can still be a part of your life, but you have to let go of this.”

“She is in this doll.” He gestured to Ella, who was standing upright with her teacup perched on the tray. A little rag doll sat in a wooden chair in the corner, its head draped over the armrest, its eyes staring out over the room.

“It took him a while to figure out that it was the rag doll, the little store-bought rag doll. Maybe he never sensed you when it wasn’t around, I don’t know. But over time, he started putting it inside his Charlie, whatever new Charlie he built.”