Attachment

As tough as my words were, I almost threw up when I got close to a body. Having to touch it and manipulate it would've been too much to bear. Luckily, I was just there to assist. I didn't have to be the one creating the ideas for new designs or trying to improve the models. Mostly, I would just hand Heisenberg whatever he needed while I watched. But that didn't last long. Eventually, he made me try my hand at attaching some of the pieces.

"I don't think I−"

"Look, it's not like you're gonna hurt 'em. It's nothing you haven't already done a hundred times."

"But this isn't 'just wires and screws'. I mean, this is an organic−"

"But it is. I'm doing all the hard stuff with the incisions. All you have to worry about are the enhancements."

His simplifications may have worked when I wasn't messing with anything important, but now there were stakes. If I messed up, wouldn't it ruin his plans? He had been working so hard on all this in secret. I couldn't live with myself if I were the one to hinder his progress.

"You said you wanted to be useful, right?" Heisenberg pressed.

"Yes, but−"

"And I'm telling you this is useful. No more doubts, remember?"

"…Right."

Attaching the pieces was easier than I expected. I worried I might chicken out or become morally compromised with what I was doing. But… I wasn't. These soldats, these former villagers, had a purpose after death. There was nothing tragic or horrific about that. Each time I saw a new body come in, I thought of Tată. His death didn't have any meaning, any salvation. He couldn't get revenge on Miranda for what she'd done to him. But those people, those whose corpses were being outfitted with drills and metal for the sole purpose of giving Miranda what she finally deserved, would fulfill that role.

Tată, I hope you're proud of me. I hope what I did satisfied your hopes. You always taught me to question everything and never blindly follow something I didn't believe. Heisenberg's war, his revolt, was something I could finally believe in. There was nothing left to question Heisenberg about. The only thing to do was move forward.

No more doubts.

After a week of working in the underground facility, Heisenberg trusted me with the reactors. He gave me an improved design he'd drafted and asked me to make it. Simple enough…or so I thought. Turns out that cybernetics are more difficult than most machines.

I couldn't figure out how to attach the metal casings to the tubes. No matter what I tried, they just wouldn't stay. I must've struggled for an hour.

"Here."

I gasped when Heisenberg's hand overlapped mine. He laughed.

"It's just me, buttercup."

"Yeah, just you." I could feel his chest pressing against my back. My cheeks flushed. Luckily, he couldn't see my face.

"You're making it too hard on yourself. Just twist your hand like this. See?"

His hand guided mine to demonstrate. I imprinted it in my head, determined to get it right.

"Give it a shot."

"Yes, sir."

He let go and stepped back. I took a deep breath and steadied my hand. After a few more attempts, I got it.

"There you go. Brute forcing everything won't get you results."

"Isn't that how you do it?"

"Sometimes. It's more fun that way, right?"

I smiled, still trying to keep my face hidden. That feeling… it was one I had forced down many times. I refused to let myself feel or process it. But at that moment, I couldn't let it go. I let it hover in my mind. It wasn't something to fear or resent. It was… nice. Really nice. Or was it? Can you like or dislike a feeling? It's the same for everyone, isn't it? Happiness is likeable, anger is dislikeable, and that feeling I had was… What was it? Did it fall into a binary category? I couldn't decide. To this day, I still can't decide. But what I felt wound up causing several headaches. I kept it close to me and allowed myself to feel it in my soul nonetheless.

From that day on, things were… different. A thought that often lurked in the back of my mind was suddenly at the forefront and for the first time I let it stay there. But it impeded my goal, the wish I begged to achieve when I blew out the candles every year. Yet I didn't want the feeling to go away. I wanted it to stay there and continue bringing me joy in everything I did. I wanted Heisenberg to praise me, to focus on me. His constant monitoring didn't scare me anymore. I found myself willingly smiling at his antics.

I rarely left his side. I thought he would shoo me away like a fly, but he seemed to welcome it. He started finding creative ways to get my attention. One day, as I was trying to modify an engine, my metal fingers started moving on their own. At first, I thought it was a side effect of my stress. But their movements got more intense. It felt like something was pushing and pulling them. After I leapt back from the table in a panic, a laugh came from the other side of the room. I sighed.

"You like giving me heart attacks, huh?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, buttercup. I'm just having a little fun," he grinned.

Small things like that intensified the feeling.

But I… didn't dare to bring up how I felt. That feeling was for me and me alone. I knew he had the power to take it from me. One false move was all it took for my ecstasy to crumble. So, I kept it in my chest and let it drive me forward.

Each day I focused on my work. I studied Heisenberg when I could. When I went out for errands, I planned out meals that might appeal to him. I asked Duke for tips and recommendations. The trickiest part was convincing Heisenberg to take a break long enough to eat. Mostly he would just eat and work at the same time. That was why, on the rare occasion he did take a break, I relished in watching him react. Even a "not bad" was enough to make me grin. Petty, isn't it? What had I become?

After three months of joining Heisenberg's cause, I'd finally found a routine. As I walked outside to check on Daria, I found Duke pulling into the gates.

"Afternoon, Lipa! In need of any more cooking advice?"

"Ha ha, no, not today. But thank you. Busy day?"

"Not terribly. But a man can't complain so long as his pockets are full!"

"What brings you by?"

"I came to deliver a present. It is that time of year again."

"...Oh." I didn't think that anyone would remember once Mamă passed. "Wait… who's the gift from?"

"Well... let's just say it's from me."

Duke held out a shiny, smooth wood box. A golden crank was attached to the side. I took it and turned it over once.

"Hopefully, that will help you sleep easier at night," Duke said.

"Thank you."

"Sadly, I don't have a cake for you. Would you like any ingredients and candles to make your own?"

"...No, that's OK. I don't need it anymore. But I will take the ingredients for that other treat you mentioned last week."

After Duke left, I went back to my room to inspect the box further. I opened its lid to reveal a small metal horse sitting on a shelf with a mirror behind it. The rest of the box was filled with writing utensils. I turned the crank on the side. Once it was released, a small melodic tune began to play as the horse spun. The song was… more comforting than I expected. I had never received anything with mechanisms for my birthday. It was… delightful. I smiled as I watched the horse continue to spin. Once the song was done, I wound it again, repeating the song over and over, over, and over. There was something so intoxicating about it. The notes reminded me of something that might come from faraway lands. It made me want to float in the clouds and travel with them as they drifted. Duke was right. That music box would give me the most wonderful dreams; I was sure of it.

As a personal celebration, I set up the annual fire that night. It was bittersweet this time around, but the flames were stronger than ever.

"Feeling reflective?" Heisenberg joked as he approached.

I laughed. "I guess you could say that. It's the same with you and your cigars, isn't it?"

"I don't need to be reflective to smoke."

"But you need it to relax. Though I don't think it works very well."

"Ouch. My temper's not that bad."

"It could use some improvement."

Wait… I was missing something crucial.

"Wait here. I'll be right back!" I promptly grabbed the ingredients from my room and returned.

"What's that?" Heisenberg asked.

"Duke recommended it. He said it's a treat from America. You have to melt the marshmallow and put the pieces together like a… sandwich, or something. I thought it might be worth a try. Want some?"

We ate the treats for a while, listening to the wood crack in the flames. I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders. That evening was so lovely, so perfect… almost too perfect. My mind grew suspicious. Words of caution from the past started to inject themselves into my conscience.

Once… Can't you just let me be happy once?! I scolded the intrusions. But they marched on, gnawing at my insides. A chill went down my spine. I thought I was going to vomit.

The only reason you want her is to get under my skin!

So, you're one of Heisenberg's toys?

You must be his pet.

He called you his greatest experiment.

Time and time again I'd told myself that there was more to it than that: that there was more to me than that. All along, I was feeding myself presumptions in the hope that I was right. There was more evidence to back their claims than mine. I needed proof, absolute proof that they were wrong to finally put the debate to rest. All I had to do was ask Heisenberg. Of course… only he could know how he felt. The rest of them didn't know him, not like I did. He would prove them all wrong; I was certain… All I had to do was… ask…

Wait… no, that wasn't right. I can't read minds. I couldn't make assumptions about anything. What if I was wrong? What if they were right? Then what? Who did that make me? What did that make me?

My eyes started to burn. I coughed and waved my shawl at the smoke that blew towards me. Heisenberg laughed.

"See; smoking has its benefits."

"I… *cough*… I doubt that."

"Here, try one. It might wipe that tension from your face."

"No, I don't want−"

Too late. He had already fished a cigar from his pocket and was lighting it with the flame.

"Come on, buttercup. Loosen up."

I failed to see how inhaling smoke into my lungs on purpose would be better than accidental inhalation. But he had a point about relaxing. I wouldn't get the courage to ask him a life changing question with the state I was in.

He held the cigar out to me. He wasn't even kind enough to offer tips. He just grinned and watched me with anticipation.

Well, here it goes…

I clamped my eyes shut as I put it to my lips. Was there a wrong way to do it? Was this worth my embarrassment? I sucked in.

And immediately yanked it out of my mouth. How could he stand that shit? Were his organs made of steel? As I almost vomited my lungs, Heisenberg just roared with laughter. I thrusted the vile wrapping of nicotine back to him. He kept watching me as he casually took a puff. Show off.

"Feel any better?" He asked after I started breathing normally again.

"If by better you mean less afraid that I'm gonna roll over and die: yeah."

"Don't be dramatic. If I thought it would kill you, I wouldn't have offered."

Ah. He was giving me a crucial first hint. But it wasn't the answer I wanted. So, I dared to take a step further.

"True… I guess if you wanted to kill me, you would've done it by now. I'm surprised you aren't sick of me yet."

"That's my line," he jested.

"You… aren't sick of me, are you?"

"Far from it."

I swallowed. This was dangerously close to crossing a point I couldn't come back from. "You'll… you'll let me stick around, right?"

A hint of a genuine smile crossed Heisenberg's lips. "I don't remember giving you any other choice."

The embers flickered out of the ring. The flame billowed higher to the sky. The soft pops of the wood cracking from the heat blurred out the sound of Daria's gears. Everything was… perfect. I couldn't ruin such a blissful moment. Things could stay just like that, indefinitely. Was I really OK with that? Was I really OK with not knowing? I wanted an answer… I needed an answer. Those voices wouldn't control me anymore. No more guessing. No more doubts.

"Hey… Heisenberg."

"Hm?"

"Can I… ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"…What am I to you?"

He smiled, staring straight into me. "You can't go breaking tradition like that. I'm the one who asks questions here, remember?"

Of course. How stupid of me. Would it have killed him to give me the courtesy of a straight answer? But I played along.

"Fine," I ceded, "Gentlemen first."

"What am I to you?"

Asshole. I just gaped at him. Just once, I wanted to be in control of the situation. I didn't have a prayer. He could figure me out like I was a machine. I turned from his gaze to try to steady myself.

To be clear, I didn't have an answer to his question. It was… complicated. I mean, it was complicated to have to put in words. I was fine with my feelings just living in my thoughts but making it tangible was a behemoth of a task. Surely, he understood that. Why else would he have asked? Maybe he just wanted to figure out his answer first.

"Just say it. There's no point in sugar coating it," he said after a few seconds.

He was right; he always was. I took a deep breath. I had the courage to answer, but not to face him.

"You're… you're… I owe you a lot…"

"That's not what I asked."

"I know. I just wanted to say that."

"You're stalling," he teased. "There isn't a wrong answer, y'know."

"Really? There's a wrong answer when it comes to Miranda."

"Right, but luckily for you, we agree on that."

"What if we don't agree on this?"

"Slow your horses. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Easy to say when you're the one with the power. I took another deep breath.

"You're… my inspiration."

He stayed silent, his eyes growing more curious. Go on, they said.

"You've made me realize that it's not impossible to get what I want. That wish I told you about; it's possible. …Well, not entirely anymore, because… Anyway, I know that because of you. So… I can't stop thinking about it. I know we can get there… together."

Lying's only useful when you're talking to fools; the truth is best preserved for those you can't outsmart… and those you don't want to lose.

"Well… I'm touched," he finally said.

"I'm serious."

"So am I. Thanks for not disappointing me."

What was that? Gratitude? The words weren't lost on me. I wouldn't let them go by joking or questioning his sincerity.

There was a pause. I was still thoroughly embarrassed from making myself vulnerable. Now it was his turn; not that I expected him to understand the meaning of humiliation.

"You still owe me that answer," I finally said.

"I know. I didn't forget."

He just gave me that studying look. As much as he threw shade at me, he may not have known how to answer either. Or he was changing his answer based on what I said. But his response was the only thing that would ever give me closure. Finally, finally, everything would be put to rest with this fundamental question…

"What am I to you?" I asked again.

After a moment, he smiled and said, "The only thing worth saving."

When I returned to my room for the night, my stomach fluttering, I caught sight of something I hadn't touched in three years. It was folded in the bottom of my suitcase, just as new as it had been the day I got it. I gently picked it up. Had it always shined like that? I'd promised to wear it for a special occasion. What was the point if there was no mirror? I would just have to show it off. It would be flustering for me, but I wanted to spoil myself by dressing up just once.

I changed into the gown and tried my best to tidy my hair. I had no way of knowing how cohesive I looked. Oh well. At the very least I had to look better than Heisenberg.

I carefully ventured out of my room. Had Heisenberg holed himself up in the lower levels? I could find his quarters from the map. Did I really want to go through all that trouble? What would he think of me? Was it worth all this anxiety? Oh god, I'd forgotten about my metal arm… It must've looked so out of place compared to–

A whistle caught my ear. I almost jumped out of my skin as I turned.

"You clean up nice, buttercup." Heisenberg grinned.

I tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. This was a mistake… my face was burning, my eyes refused to meet his, I was already sweating...

I managed a small smile. "...Thank you."

"Special occasion?"

"I mean… sorta… I just… remembered that I had it sitting in my room, and uh… I didn't want it to go to waste, so…"

"And you were planning on just wearing it and walking around a musty old factory by yourself?"

"Um… no?"

He chuckled. "...Here, I've got a better idea."

He walked off to another room. I anxiously smoothed out the front of my skirt.

A sound from the speakers started to fill the air. It was similar to what I'd heard at Castle Dimitrescu. No, it couldn't be… I didn't think Heisenberg liked music. The rhythm was slow, yet it made my heart sing. What was he planning?

He came back into the room and stood in front of me with his hand out, a smile plastered on his face.

No… No, no, no, no, no, anything but that! I'd already tested my nerves enough for one night. Anything more would kill me.

"Wait, I… I don't know how to–"

"I'll teach you. It's not rocket science; just follow my lead."

Was I really about to let an opportunity like that pass me by? I half considered it, but I'm proud of myself for not running away. That memory is one of the most precious I have. If I hadn't experienced it, I would be plagued with regret, even to this day.

"O...OK…" I slowly took his hand.

He placed his other arm around my waist. I thought I'd catch on fire. He laughed as I tried to figure out what to do with my other hand.

"Shoulder, buttercup."

"Right…"

I assumed the position as stiffly as a mannequin. I let Heisenberg guide me with each step. It was just a sway at first: slow, gentle, in time with the beat.

"I still make you nervous? After all these years?" He quipped.

"To be fair, I don't think we've ever done anything like this." I kept my eyes on my feet.

"Just relax. You're doing fine."

I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the music. Slowly, he started guiding me through a simple pattern. I must've stepped on his feet a dozen times. I worried he might get fed up, but he seemed entertained more than anything. With each step, my body loosened. I managed to start looking at him.

"There she is," he smiled.

"Shut up," I laughed.

He lifted his hand and led me through a twirl. I melted into the motions, savoring every second.

"Since when did you know how to dance?" I asked.

"Since I got bored and had to live with the scrutiny of a certain uppity bitch."

"Ah. So you learned out of spite, then?"

He chuckled. "Damn right."

We continued on and on for what felt like hours. Eventually, the song ended. We stopped moving, but Heisenberg kept me close.

"Happy Birthday, Lipa," he said.

I smiled. Tears threatened to spill out of my eyes, but I blinked them back. "Thank you…"

There was so much more to say… but would it ruin everything? Would it break the moment and shatter everything we'd managed to build up to that day? What better time was there to say such a thing? It was now or never. In… and out.

"Heisenberg… there's… there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

He let go of my metal hand and slowly moved it until it floated back into his palm. He smiled at it for a moment before looking back at me. "You can tell me once we've made it out of this shithole. Deal?"

Yes… those words were better suited in the comfort of freedom.

I nodded. "Deal."