She listened to her heart limp against the bedsprings for the rest of the night. In the morning she felt a little better, her head drained slightly of whatever had been clogging it; Glenn’s treatment protocols had worked their magic, as they always did. But she still didn’t feel strong enough to go to school. She spent most of the morning dozing, then drinking clear broth that Glenn prepared. She thought about putting on a filmstream but didn’t. Glenn left her alone for the most part, unless she called for him—she was sure by now that she wasn’t imagining things, that he was really going out of his way to avoid her. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or achingly lonely.

In the afternoon someone came knocking at the door. Park was used to hearing the hard, tinny rap of the local delivery android, but this sounded distinctly human. She waited in her bed and heard Glenn approaching the door. There was a long pause, and finally he opened it.

“Is Park home?” someone said.

Park bolted upright. Dataran! What the hell was he doing here? It wouldn’t have been hard to buy her address from the dome’s directory, but still—she couldn’t remember the last time an outsider had come to the module. To see her. She snatched her worn, scratchy blanket up to her chin and didn’t know if she felt annoyance at him or sheer panic. Or both.

“She’s resting,” Glenn said from the living room.

“I figured she was still sick, since she didn’t come to class,” Dataran said. “I brought these.” There was a rustle, a short pause.

“I’ll see if she’s awake,” Glenn said finally, though he knew full well that Park was. She listened to his heavy tread approaching her bedroom door and huddled under her blanket. What was she so afraid of? She couldn’t say—only knew that she felt exposed, like an exhibit on display. What had they called them, back in the old days? Freak shows; curiosities to gawk at. Had Dataran come to do that? Ogle her in her natural habitat? No, it wasn’t in his nature—but what was?

Glenn slipped in through her bedroom door and folded it shut: it was one of those thin metal screens that they’d used in airplane bathrooms, back when there were still airplanes. He dropped his voice to a pitch that Park had dubbed “the android whisper,” a low fricative buzz that somehow managed to convey words to the direct recipient, while everyone else heard nothing more than an electric hum. “Dataran Zinh is here to see you,” he said. “He said he brought your homework.”

“You can just download the homework directly to your console,” Park hissed. “Anyone can.”

“I’m aware,” Glenn answered. “He’s using it as an excuse to visit with you.”