The weeks passed. One day she had a run-in with the biodome’s only android, a HERCULES model no one had bothered to name. The HERCULES was there to do any heavy lifting or manual labor a human couldn’t do: rapid repairs on the biodome if anything went wrong, accelerated rescue if one of the expedition members got lost on the ice. It was a primitive thing, not human-looking in the way that Park was used to: only a rough approximation of a man, skinless, with metal limbs that were bulky and golem-like. Most of the time it sat alone by the lookout tower, knees clasped, inert.

That morning Park noticed it while she was eating breakfast in the mess tent. Austral summer had blown in; the HERCULES was squatting near the inside flap of the tent, and every time someone lifted the canvas to enter, blinding sunlight shot off of its chrome egg head and into Park’s eyes.

“Could you move away from there?” she asked it. “You’re hurting my eyes.”

“I apologize,” the HERCULES said in its tinny way, though it didn’t understand what she meant. It was unaware of the light coming from behind it, so it only shifted a few inches before settling down again with a clink. Park had to eat with one hand shielding the left side of her face. Meanwhile, the HERCULES watched her.

“Do you need something?” Park asked finally, after she had finished dry-swallowing a dehydrated biscuit, letting it scrape past her throat.

“No,” the HERCULES said.

Something about the way it surveyed her face sent a line of heat running through Park’s stomach. It reminded her of Glenn, though the HERCULES had only the barest approximation of a crude metal face. But the eyes were the same: alert, liquidly understanding. Remote.

“Who activated you?” Park asked it. “What is your protocol?”

“I was told to observe,” the HERCULES answered. Its voice sounded metallic and raw, like the echoing of a sawblade.

“Observe who? Observe me?”

“Yes.”

“Who told you to do that?”

“They instructed me not to say.”

Another prank, Park thought. Someone was “teaching” her what it felt like to be watched all the time. Observed. The best thing to do was to not react. “Take my tray away,” she said. “If you’re going to follow me around, you might as well help.”

“That’s pretty funny,” Keller said afterward, when Park reported in with the HERCULES at her side. “Though childish beyond belief. I suppose you can’t deactivate it?”

“Whoever issued the command told it not to stop until its protocols were satisfied,” Park said. “And to not reveal who they were. I think I just have to wait for it to stop on its own or return to the issuer for further instructions.”