Grandmother noticed me staring at the pencil. She waited for me to answer her question. She was very aware of herself today. Those days are getting fewer and fewer. Grandfather had gone out to meet with a former student. There would not be many more opportunities like this one, where it was just me and her and she was fully present.

I took a breath and recited all the facts I knew.

“I know you lived in California and that your house burned down. I know pencils burned with it. I know the house was owned by a Taiwanese official. I know they were running a large surveillance network at the time.”

The pencil betrayed the trembling of her hand. I told myself it was due to her age, not from any reaction my words might have caused. She would tell me I was misguided, to go to my room and stop with the wild theories. Instead, she whispered:

“Did I tell you that?”

The words crushed me. Both because of the implied admission and because she genuinely could not remember. She did not know what I knew about her or what she had told me, if anything.

“I found out from EMBRS,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “My research project.”

“Is it a spying tool?”

“No! No, it’s a journaling tool. It’s what helped us find Meng, remember?”

She shook her head.

I took another breath.

“And I want to learn how to Reforge,” I said. “Please teach me. I was scared to learn before. But I want to understand you.”

“Even now?” she asked, voice weaker than I had ever heard it.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “I want to understand you as you understand yourself.”

“Even if you may not like what you learn?”

I did not trust myself to convey certainty, not when I was wondering if I could pretend this conversation had never happened. I nodded.

I helped her stand. She took me to her room, to her bedside table. From the drawer, she retrieved a familiar pencil. The first thing Louise had given me.

“I’d like you to Reforge this,” she said.

“Me? But it’s for you. We had a deal.”

“I can’t,” she said simply. There was no sadness to her voice. It was a statement of fact.

“But what if I mess up?” I asked.

“I’ll teach you properly first. You seem distraught, maybe even lost. But I think you will find you are very much like your great-aunt.”

“Really?” I took the pencil from her.

“Yes. And she did what I couldn’t do.”

“What was that?”

“You’ll discover for yourself.”