7.

"I do not know if Pascal knows." I trail after 9S, who is wandering deeper into the woods. Sunlight streams in between cracks in the leaves above, casting tiny spotlights all around us. 9S' hair sometimes appears grey to silver depending on which light he steps into.

"There is no way he doesn't." 9S digs through some kind of plant near a massive tree trunk. "But if Pascal's our enemy, why hasn't he utilised you? Used you to strongarm YoHRa? Or killed you, at least?"

"Killed me?"

"The machines' goal is to completely exterminate humankind."

"N-not Pascal's."

9S shrugs. "Apparently not. Just all humans but you, maybe? Is there something special about you to the machines?"

Me, special?

Well, I am, but not in a spectacular way. More like, "Ribbon, you're a special machine so just sit and don't do anything but collect dust."

I brush my hands together. "Yeah, about that. Isn't there a chance you could accept I'm a machine? A machine that is very convincingly human?"

He stands up straight, his expression neutral. "There isn't."

"But, what if there's an error in—"

"There is no error, Ribbon."

He sounds so certain it's hard not to just believe him.

But of course, how can I? Believing him means shifting my entire reality and identity. And somehow that makes it difficult to function. What does it mean to not be who you are? Then who are you, if you aren't you?

Oh no, I sound like Jean-Paul.

9S has his palm open flat and he's peering down at whatever is in it. "I've met humanlike machine life forms and they are nothing like you. They don't invoke the same reaction. When androids encounter those types, our system warns us and there is no doubt."

There are other humanlike machine life forms?

But they aren't like me?

"Those machines are the worst because they imitate our creators, and it's infuriating. You're different from them, Ribbon."

"How can you differentiate?" My voice is small.

9S walks to me. "I knew you were human before Pod 153 traced you. It's a feeling, Ribbon, that rose when you were close. It's like being suffocated and learning to breathe at once. If you were fake, I would not have felt that. I would've felt fear."

Wow, I can do that to androids? I am pretty cool.

But still—

That sounds like it is something congenital.

My heartbeat's picking up.

It's not like I believe him. It's not like there's even a teensy chance I could be a human—the thing these androids long for and protect with their lives.

But it's nice to have someone feel strongly towards me.

He reaches to my ear and I jump when he massages whatever's in his hand into the cut.

"I asked my pod about herbs to help this heal," he says. "This is some kinda pollen. It should at least take away the pain with its numbing properties."

"Oh." It feels nice when he touches my ear now. "Thanks." I push my head against his hand.

His smile is sheepish. "I can't rub it in when you do that."

I pull back. "Oops."

"Also, don't thank me. I am the one who made this cut. You could yell at me, you know?"

"Yelling is hard on the lungs."

"It is."

"Yes, so it would be counterproductive."

"I guess that is . . . weirdly true."

We share a grin.

"Lungs, huh?" he says. "So you know you have those."

"Well, I mimic a human in many ways."

He shakes his head.

I like 9S again. "Um, 9S?"

"Yeah?" He takes his hand away.

"Will you play with me?"

"What?"

"The machines are a bit boring since I met you and 2B." I draw a trail in the dirt with my toes. "I would like to try playing with you."

He stares for a moment. "Oh, right. You were raised by machines." His mouth twists. "Listen, Ribbon. Your intellect goes beyond child's play."

"Child's play?"

"According to my metabolism data on you, you've been alive for fifteen or sixteen years. The cell data is similar. You're really, really young—at least, compared to androids and machine life forms—but you aren't a human child. I'm guessing you act the way you do because of your surroundings."

I nod.

"Can you read?"

"Oh. Oh. I love reading. I read all sorts of books."

And I do. I've read about people around my "age"—playing with 9S' idea—in literature or in academic studies. If I was a human, I am acting out of norm to the humans of the past.

But I don't live in the same social environment as those humans. I don't even live in the same era. I don't know what a television is—not really—or what "gossip" means or "crushing on someone." I don't bother with makeup like Margot and I don't worry about "sports." All these things mentioned in old age books I've put together piece by piece. I have a pretty good understanding of human life spans and what humans do at what stage.

9S giving me an age is kind of fun, like a game I can now find myself in. I can pin myself in the books I've read and assess what I might be like if I were a human.

So according to most ancient societies, if I lived in the past I'm supposed to be going to a place called "school." Of course that does not exist here in my time, but funnily enough, I study.

I study all the time.

He smiles. "Great. What else do you do for fun?"

Other than read and learn? "I pick flowers and I root through junk to help my friends make new body parts, and sometimes I sit in the forest and try to count how many rabbits I see, but then I get confused because they can be hard to tell apart, so what if I have already counted one and I just counted it again by accident?"

9S laughs and turns away. "You really do have childish conceptions." He whips back around so fast I almost fall back, but he catches my shoulders and holds me in place. "This is amusing! What do you want to play?"

I get to choose?

I'll pick something that will impress him. I'm way faster than all the other machines.

"Running!"

"Running?"

"Yes, let's race."

He puts a gloved hand to his mouth. "Sure. Let's see how fast you can run."

Yes! I am good at this game. Running and racing and playing tag. I nod until my head might fall off.

We start side by side. Oh yeah! We are the same height. That makes me happy.

The wind whistles through the trees and we glance at each other.

He says, "Go!" and we both take off.

He disappears before I can comprehend what has happened.

How did he—?

I am literally left in his dust.

I give a sad cough.

He comes back, zigzagging from behind trees. "What?" He jogs back to me, at a normal-person pace. "You're really slow."

I swallow. "I'm not." Compared to the machines, I'm the fastest. This isn't fair.

He stops in front of me and plops a hand down on top of my head. "Ha! Well, I am an S model. I'm built to be pretty nimble. And not to mention, I'm the best around of my class."

"Best around?" My voice is high with awe. "That sounds amazing. You're amazing." I guess it's to be expected that I can't beat the best of a kind of something. Or—what?

He scratches at the back of his head. "You're really expressive, Ribbon."

"But you are amazing!"

He rubs his neck now. "A human calling me amazing? I don't know what to do."

"Um." I don't know what he should do either. Is there something he should be doing? I should be doing? I wish I had a manual to follow.

"I wonder if I can program you to—" He jerks back, sudden, as if he has been short circuited. "Ah, no. I can't."

"Cannot what?"

"I was gonna say I could program you to be faster. It's just a simple chip installation, but you're a human." He walks around me, but when I turn to face him he doesn't let me. He pushes me so I'm facing away again.

His hand finds the back of my neck and I tense. I can't see him and that makes me hyper aware of his touch. Cold and solid, the pads of his gloved fingers adding pressure.

He pats around my shoulder blades. "Nope. No entry points or anything."

I poke at my own neck, curious. His hand drops and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"I don't know how to make you more efficient." He comes to my side now and lifts my right arm, straight up, and then lets it drop. I catch it before I hit myself.

"Pod?" He glances over his shoulder at the floating block behind him.

I grab hold of 9S' elbow to keep him in place, and then step behind him and push the collar of his jacket down. He makes a little choking noise.

He has grooves along his neck and shoulders. I touch my neck again. Grooves I don't have. I dig my fingers in against his neck, around the spine where a thicker groove is, and he wriggles free with a little, "Wah!"

"Ribbon, that tickles. Are you a squirrel looking for food?" He adjusts his collar as he stares at the ground. "You should warn me if you're going to touch me like that."

"Oh, sorry. You did it to me, so I just . . ."

"Shit! I did, didn't I? I just grabbed a human and started inspecting." He slaps his palm to his face. "My curiosity takes over sometimes, Ribbon. You can get mad."

"No! I like it."

He keeps trained on the ground for a few moments. "Um, Pod?" He looks up. "Since humans can't upgrade their bodies like androids, are they destined to just—be like they are? No chances for improvement or instant adapting?"

His pod hovers in a U-pattern above us. "Humans used to partake in strength training and cardiovascular activities in order to improve their physical condition. However, it is vastly inferior to the kinds of technology androids use in order to maximise their potential. It is not only tremendously slower, but also involves the breaking down—that is, the tearing—and mending of muscles to strengthen them."

"That sounds painful," 9S says.

"Affirmative. It can be."

9S focuses on me. "Man, humans have it rough. Are you okay? You aren't torn anywhere right now, are you?"

I look down at myself. "I do not believe so." I shift my weight from foot to foot. "Oh, ah, 9S?" I'm a little in over my head. Why can his pod answer such complicated questions? I know I am not really a human—probably—but I should at least know all about humans because I am made to be exactly like one.

Why don't I have innate knowledge? Why can't I access information about myself? Vital information?

Why don't I have any "entry points" like 9S has?

"Yeah, Ribbon?"

"Do you have a manual?"

"A manual?"

"To yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"Like something I can follow that will tell me about you. You are by far the most complex being I have come across and I can't fully comprehend you, so I was wondering if you maybe came with a manual or guidelines or something to help me decipher."

We stare at each other.

He touches a hand to his chest, and then frowns. "No. No, I don't come with something like that, Ribbon."

"Oh." Then I guess I gotta learn the long way. I spark up a grin and then mimic what he did to me earlier, after the nonexistent race. I plop my hand down on top of his head and his hair is soft and new—a very new texture. "That's not bad, then! I will learn about you on my own." I lift my hand off, and then put it right back down. Never mind. I don't want to stop touching the softness. It feels really nice.

I knead with my hand and then bring my other hand up and knead with both. So. Soft.

He closes one eye. "Uh. What are you doing, Ribbon?"

"You feel soft here."

"It's hair. You have it too."

"Yes, but mine's full of twigs and dirt."

He catches my wrists and makes me stop, and then he takes a step away and bends over, resting his hands on his knees. "You're going to kill me."

I blink. "What? I don't kill, remember? Why would I ever—"

He makes a sound—a non word—and I get the feeling he wants me to stop talking, so I listen to my instincts and stop talking.

He straightens and maybe it's okay to talk now.

"You must play in the water a lot." Early on I discovered I like going into water because it makes me feel less sticky, so I play in the water a lot. This is probably why his hair is so soft.

"Water?" He rolls his shoulders. "It's just maintenance. But I have a feeling your maintenance is much more tedious than an android's."

Is being human really so hard?

His head snaps back. Sometimes he moves so fast I can't keep up. Like a hummingbird, he's at his pod now, poking at the air beside it.

I make my way to him, curious.

"Ah—right, I got it, 2B." He's speaking, facing his pod, but there's nothing there that I can see. "No. No, I'm in the area. I'll be there right away." He flinches. "Yeah, yeah. On my way."

I stand offside and watch.

He turns away from his pod with a sigh. "Shit, I am not in the area. Pod, do I have an anti-scold shield in my inventory?"

Pod 153 says, "Negative. Joke has also been denied."

"You're laughing internally."

He seemed to be speaking to 2B somehow. I couldn't hear her. Is it like how his sword sometimes goes invisible?

"Were you talking to 2B?" I raise on my toes and then drop. I want to talk to her, too, but that's impossible given the circumstances. We're all supposed to stay away from each other, after all.

A funny feeling swishes in my stomach. It's like when I don't play with the children or Pascal is disappointed in me.

"Yeah." 9S gestures to his pod.

"How could you talk to her? I didn't hear or see anything."

He taps the blindfold. "My visor."

"Visor?" Oh, so that's what that thing is. He seems to be able to see through it, but not the other way around. If I ask to try it on, will he say no?

"I've gotta go," he says.

My throat tightens. "What?"

"I have to resume gathering intel on the machines. Not that I mind—it's necessary—but I'd rather analyse you." He fixates on me.

I flush and swallow back a laugh. He looks so serious.

He swipes his hand across the air—probably at something else I can't see. "2B's ready to blow up the Resistance camp looking for me. Hey. Don't tell anyone we met, okay?"

"You'll come back?"

"Is that a serious question?"

"Yes, why wouldn't it be?"

"Because isn't it obvious?" His smile is friendly. "There's a lot I want to talk with you about."

Me too. Me too. Me too.

He takes off and I wish I was fast enough to follow.

But he leaves me in the dust again.

AN: Hi guys! Someone mentioned the short chapter format made them sad (okay, I'm paraphrasing), so here's a chapter that's a little longer (even if it's filled with 9S and Ribbon just being dorks...)