“I have a question,” she said when he was between threads. “On top of monitoring me and my symptoms, you said you wanted to study the nature of our bond. What did you mean by that?”

“There are characteristics of our bond not found in any inter-amygdaline fusion bond that has been observed.”

“What kind of characteristics?”

He produced another thread, stringing it taut in front of her eyes, then moved to her right temple to insert it. “As of right now, the biggest mystery is the empathic nature of our bond.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, keeping her jaw locked, moving her lips as little as possible.

“The ability to sense and share mood swings, this is unheard of in dynamic fusion bonding.”

“I thought dynamic fusion bonding meant you could sense each other’s ‘energies.’ You can tell if symphyles are nearby, if they’re alive or dead.”

“Yes, but dynamic fusion bonding is not an empathic bond. We cannot sense each other’s emotional states as you and I can. This side effect is unprecedented.”

He finished the thread, and she moved to look at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Do you have . . . any idea where it comes from?”

“None.” He pulled another thread taut, and moved back to her left temple. She stilled. “My hope is to find out what part of your brain it is rooted in.”

“Why my brain?”

“We have a sample size of one, and an experiment we cannot recreate; there is much I can only extrapolate, but given that this side effect is unprecedented and you, as a natural human alien, are the only variable that has changed, I surmise that the basis for this side effect lies in your brain.”

She turned to look at him as he finished a thread. “What do you want to do about it?”

He nudged her head back onto its side as he made another injection. “Eliminate the side effect so that we are no longer affected by each other’s moods.”

“Oh.”

This was a lot. She’d assumed the empathic aspect was a normal part of the deal; it had never occurred to her that they were in any way unique. In a way, that made her feel even worse; her nascent mental illness creeping into his mind wasn’t only a bug of being bonded to her, it was the first and only time he’d experienced anything like that at all?

And of course, it ran both ways; there were times when the wall between them was particularly thin, and she would feel some external force invade her. Sometimes it was deep despair, but more often, it was fear, terror, anxiety. Overstimulation from simply existing on an alien planet with its thin atmosphere, its violent weather, its sharp, bright, overbearing sun.

But on the other hand, it wasn’t like there weren’t any benefits; for one, she didn’t have to explain every goddamn thing anymore. If he said something offensive, he could intuit it without her having to explain it. It had likewise made him a quick study on the art of physically comforting her; before, she’d had to give him specific instruction on exactly where and how to touch her, which was not only tedious but wasn’t particularly enjoyable, like training a robot that was designed to put cars together how to pat you on the head. But their connection removed the need to explain what was good and what wasn’t, what helped and what didn’t. If he touched her in a way she wasn’t crazy about, he could sense it, and he wouldn’t do it again. If he did it in a way she liked, he added it to his toolbox without needing to be instructed to do so.