The flowers were put in a vase and left at the theatre in the ticket booth. Plenty of customers commented on them, saying how lovely they were. One elderly man said with a wink that only a man in love would put effort into buying such a nice arrangement. In fact, the old man's remark had sparked feelings of guilt in Anna's mind. Had Mr. Hand developed feelings for her? Had she been leading him on, despite having a solid marriage? Or... had she started to fall out of love with John and into love with Mr. Hand?

Standing at the river landing, leaning over her the railing to look down at the water, Anna felt that maybe Mr. Hand was beginning to mean more to her than just a friend. She heard someone coming down the concrete stairs and recognized the steps to be her friend's. She didn't greet him, instead she waited. One of his gloved hands came to rest on her shoulder.

"Anna."

She turned and smiled. Mr. Hand had taken off his hat. "Anna, I've never told you my first name."

"No, you haven't." She wondered where he was going, but was thrilled to finally become privy to his full name.

"I have no name, but I do have the memories of your husband."

Anna blinked. "What?" His statement didn't register. Mr. Hand sat heavily on the bench. He looked exhausted, sickly. Anna sat beside him, putting a hand on his knee. Her brow was knitted with concern and confusion.

Mr. Hand turned his gaze to the sky. Evening had crept up on them; the fiery sun was finally setting. "Anna, when I first met you some years ago, your name was Emma. Your husband had been missing for three weeks and was a prime suspect in a murder case."

Anna didn't reply. She removed her hand from the man's knee.

"And I was hunting your husband. Not as a police officer, but as a Stranger. Your husband, John Murdoch, has the ability of my people to 'Tune'."

"What are you saying?" Anna rasped, her voice nearly failing.

Mr. Hand put his hat back on. "I am not from Earth, nor is this place Earth. Anna, this is an isolated city. I couldn't keep the truth from you any longer."

"You're crazy!" She jumped to her feet, eyes wide and face pale.

A muscle twitched in Mr. Hand's jaw. He stood to face her, his palms towards her in a defensive stance. "Anna, listen, please."

She backed away from him, shaking her head. "No. No, no, no. You're crazy. Are you schizophrenic and never told me? Are you off your meds?"

"No, Anna-"

"A cult! Is that it?"

"No."

Anna shook her head again, mind wheeling for an explanation. "Look, get away from me. I don't want to hear it. I thought you were a nice guy. Is this like, a joke or something? Are you trying to freak me out?"

Mr. Hand growled in exasperation. "Anna, can you let me explain?"

She stopped her babbling. Her eyes were wide as a child's watching him. "Mr. Hand, if you want me to trust you, can you tell me your full name at least?"

He touched his face for a beat, pinching the bridge of his nose. The movement was exactly as John would have done it with the elbow cocked at the same angle and the eyebrows furrowed the same way. For a brief moment, Anna could believe that her friend had all the memories John never spoke of.

"I have no name," Mr. Hand finally intoned. "But I have come to identify myself as Murdoch J Hand," a wry smile, neither endearing nor attractive, twisted his face. "A play on your husband's name. I found it suitable, since I own his memories."

Anna felt like she was floating in a bubble. Things were becoming surreal. "What does the "J" stand for? John?"

The man uttered a sharp, barking laugh. "No. I fashioned that for myself. Murdoch Jared Hand."

The two stood facing each other for a few minutes, silence stretched out like a void. Normally Anna felt herself gravitating towards him, wanting to be with him. Now, with the disclosure of his bastardization of her husband's name and the demented claims about the city, Anna wanted to flee. But deep-seated politeness kept her there. A touch of sentiment for Murdoch J Hand as well, but Anna pretended it wasn't there. "Mr. Hand," she started and then paused. "Murdoch."

He looked at her, the depth of his eyes unsettling her for the first time. She noticed how sickly he looked again. His face was thin and he looked lean beneath the jacket. "You don't feel comfortable with my name," he murmured.

"It's my name too," Anna looked down at her clasped hands, "Sort of. Mrs. John Murdoch."

Murdoch Hand stepped once towards her, closing the gap between them. Anna was startled, but didn't flinch. She could feel the warmth from his skin. His hand came up; she noticed numbly that he had removed his glove. She closed her eyes. His pale hand rested on her cheek for an instant. His long fingers trailed down to the back of her neck, beneath her hair. Anna moved her eyes beneath the thin lids, but didn't open them. She tried to sketch a picture of what was happening in the blackness. His hat would be pushed back, not removed. The brim would brush her forehead. She would be able to feel his warmth before his physical touch.

The brim of his hat bumped against her forehead, and pushed up as he came closer. His lips pressed against hers, tentatively at first. He was warm and soft. When she didn't resist, the kiss deepened. He tasted sweet, like he had eaten a fruit she couldn't name. He pulled her in closer with the hand on the back of her neck, placing the other on her waist. Anna's arms circled around his neck and she opened her mouth to his.

He broke away abruptly. His chest was heaving, his eyes large. Anna grabbed him by the shoulders, alarmed. "Are you okay?"

Murdoch sucked in lungful after lungful of air. Slowly the heaving stopped. "I... Something..." he gestured vaguely with his hands, one gloved and one not. "Something happened. I felt something." Suddenly his face lit up. "That... that was an emotion, yes."

Anna dropped her hands from his shoulders. "What? You've never... felt? Is that what you're saying?"

"Rudimentary emotions. Frustration, fear. Anger. Satisfaction. My people never had use for the others. That's why this city was created. We needed to find the human soul." He bent swiftly, picked up his glove. He slid his hand back in, wiggling his fingers until comfortable.

"We stole people's memories. We took them, mixed new ones. We injected them in people, moved the city. Moved people! Created every possible scenario we could think of to answer the question "Is a person the sum of their memories?" We thought that was the key to humanity! Yes." His expression grew with fervour, an old obsession coming to surface. "Your husband, dear John, told me once that we had looked for the soul in the wrong place," he tapped just above his eyebrow. "And he was right. I realize our error. Humans are not just the sum of memories. I have John's memories, his boyhood and what he should have become. But I was not human." He stopped, looked at Anna levelly. "Until now. Anna, you. My feelings for you, how I react around you. You've made me individual. I am human."

Anna's heart ached. She knew she loved Murdoch Hand. In their brief kiss, she allowed her buried emotions to show, and he had felt it. She could see he was sick and it hurt her. His rant was moving, but it made no sense. He was mentally unstable. It hurt.

He could see the doubt and pain on her face. "Anna," he held a hand out to her, "I can prove it."

She grasped his hand tightly. Anna's heart began racing. It told her something was wrong before her brain realized it. There was no ground beneath her feet. She flailed in a moment of panic, a cry bursting from the lips Murdoch had just kissed. He squeezed her hand once and her panic turned into frantic disbelief. "Jared..." she exclaimed, mixing up the names momentarily. She corrected herself. "Murdoch... this is unbelievable. How is this happening?"

The soles of their shoes came back into contact with the ground. Anna lifted each foot one at a time, as though making sure she was stable. "See?" He said, "Everything I said was true. That was Tuning, yes."

Anna's knees gave out. Her head was swimming and her vision blurry. "You were serious. There's no other city but this one?"

"There are others." Murdoch's pale face flushed infinitesimally and he kneeled beside her, touching her face once again. "But not here. My people took you- all the inhabitants of the city, except those newly born, from a planet called Earth."

Anna pushed her face into his palm, nuzzling it. The leather was as warm as his skin and just as soft. He helped her up. "I'll take you home," he mumbled. "Sleep on it. There was a lot to take in." Anna leaned on him as they walked the long way to her house. Murdoch Hand assumed that she wished to spend time alone, and would not want to take the bus. He was correct. The thought of taking the bus made Anna feel claustrophobic. So many people jammed into a space. Like a city jammed together in outer space.