Lacy turned on her side to face him, the whites of her eyes blue in the glow of the night-light. “That’s because they program you to feel that way. They have percentages for the amount of emotions we get.”

“How do you know?”

“I logged into their account. Know how much independent thought we have? Fifteen percent. Timmy and Issa have zero. That’s why they’re so weird. I read it in an email their parents sent Mom and Dad.”

Joey used to play Legos with Timmy. Every time Timmy would hand him a plastic brick, he’d tell him he could put it on the spaceship. After the eighth piece, Timmy had seemed creepy. He’d extended the Lego toward Joey, smiling. You’re our guest. You can put the next piece on.

“Know what Mom and Dad set our love at? One hundred percent.”

“So?”

“So, that’s messed up—we shouldn’t have to be programmed to love them. But we’re just complicated, expensive toys. Whatever, you’re too young to get it.” She turned her head away, the blue light of the room illuminating her cheekbones, and Joey could almost see the metal frame beneath her skin.

His tears had nothing to do with the sensitivity his parents had programmed for him. It was a personal feeling, and though he couldn’t grasp its source, he felt the wetness on his cheeks as he stared at the constellations. Lacy sighed heavily and turned. “What?” He didn’t answer, just lay there feeling tears rolling out of him, his heart aching. “Joey, come on,” she said. Then, more softly, “What’s wrong?”

Joey wiped the sleeve of his Spiderman pajamas against his face. “If Mom and Dad are consumers then how do you feel about me? Am I even your brother?”

What he needed was a single word uttered with her heart’s resonance, even if it was just a balloon inflating and deflating. Instead, she took a deep breath. “You know you are,” she said in the exact same tone she used when lying to their parents.

He was supposed to have soccer practice that Monday, but the coach went home with food poisoning, and his mother called the office to say she couldn’t get out of work early. Timmy’s mom would drive him; Lacy would be there by the time he got back.

The trees had begun to turn colors and the leaves fell around the car as they drove home. Timmy asked friendly questions about school. What was his favorite subject? Smile. Did he like his teachers? Smile. What was he going to be for Halloween? Smile. Want to go trick-or-treating together?