My reminiscence followed me into my dreams and stirred me from sleep repeatedly. When I woke up shivering around 3, I decided to take some pills to help me stay down. I didn't have anything to wake up for anyway. They kept me in bed until 11 the next morning.

When I woke up it seemed that Lavender was still in bed and her dad was in the workshop, so I ate my breakfast alone. I tried to figure out what to do with my day. I hadn't been able to focus on books, games, or TV in a while. My mind would always drift and I'd get fidgety and have to go do something. I liked to exercise. It gave me an outlet. The sleeping pills had left me completely sluggish though, so that didn't really feel doable.

I found myself wishing Lavender was awake. I imagined what I'd say to her. I'd invite her to go into town and get ice cream with me. She'd ask if it was a date and remind me that we weren't anything anymore and we never would be. How would I answer that? I'd laugh it off and say I just meant we should go as friends. I wouldn't want to, but it would be the only way to get her to do something with me. I'd take her to the bookstore and to the park. Maybe, if she was still the way she used to be, she'd take out a little sketchpad and draw what she saw there, and give me the drawing to remember the day by. I had a few of those drawings tucked away somewhere.

I felt bad about what happened the day before, even though there wasn't really anything to blame myself for. There were too many loose ends. Much remained anticipated. Things couldn't just stay the way they were without moving. It was uncomfortable.

Despite all that, I didn't feel like waiting around for her to get up. I could go and wake her up. That would be decisive. But it would also undeniably be rude.

I thought about what that would be like. I'd knock vigorously on her door. She'd open it, greeting me in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes and asking me what exactly it was I wanted at this hour. I'd remark that it was lunchtime and say that she should go into town with me. She would say that since I got her up we might as well. She would act annoyed but secretly be pleased to know that I wanted her to go with me.

Or maybe she'd just be annoyed and slam the door in my face.

I remembered that it was her birthday in a few days. It had been in the back of my mind but only vaguely. I didn't expect it to mean anything. She'd never cared much about her birthday in the past. In this case, however, it presented an opportunity. Next time I saw her, I figured, I'd propose we do something together for her birthday. We would have a nice time and bygones would be bygones.

So it was settled, but for now I still had time to pass without her. I decided to go out on my own, taking Reginald with me. He was standing still in the lobby where I'd left him the day before, and came alive when I called his name.

I got ice cream by myself. It was a strange experience. We walked into the ice cream parlor and I asked for a scoop of cookies and cream on a sugar cone. It was only when the old man working there scooped up the ice cream that I realized he was a robot. I couldn't tell you how I knew, but something in how he moved was just too perfect. He moved from stillness to motion, and throughout his arc of motion, with perfect fluidity, perfect consistency. The motions of his hands reminded me of some kind of mechanical ballerina doing a precise set of steps on a perfectly flat stage.

The realization that I had been fooled by one of these robots shook me deeply. For the rest of the day I found myself examining everyone I came across to see if I could identify that uncanny perfection in their movements. Sometimes it was hard to tell. I decided to get away from other people for a bit. I walked out into the farmland, down a dirt path between two plots of land that seemed to go on forever. It was an overcast day, but the land was flat and empty, so here and there sunbeams illuminated spots of green on the otherwise gloomy grey ground.

I asked Reginald about the farms we went past. He seemed to have an encyclopedic knowledge of this town and the surrounding acreage. Some of the farms were dairy farms, others beef, wool, or pork. I couldn't always see the animals. They were tucked away in a barn or pen on the distant grassy horizon.

We came to an enclosure with some horses grazing. I stood there and watched them for quite a while. They swatted away flies with their tails. Their ears twitched. Sometimes they would nervously shuffle back and forth. Occasionally one would break into a gallop. They were creatures of such noble stature. I found myself entranced, lost in daydreams of eras past, imagining riders stampeding across the great empty steppe.

-

We got back to the Paulsen home around 4. Lavender was in the kitchen. She seemed to be making greeting cards out of construction paper. There were about fifteen of them set out on the table. They were elaborate, and clearly the product of a skilled hand, but they did inevitably look like a child's art project in virtue of the materials used.

"Hey, what are you working on?" I asked her.

"It's my birthday the day after tomorrow. Did you forget?"

"I remembered."

"I'm making invitations for all my friends. Do you notice a name missing?"

I felt like I knew the answer, but I looked over each card anyway. "Is it 'Sunny Ruscoe?'"

"Exactly. I want you out of the house that afternoon. Find something to do until, let's say, 8 o'clock."

I sighed. "Doesn't this seem a little childish?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. This whole invitation thing. Being needlessly antagonistic. You could have asked nicely and it would have been fine."

She glared. "It's my house and I don't want you here when I have my friends over."

"You're an almost-28-year-old woman and you're acting like an elementary schooler."

"You're acting childish by not respecting your host!"

"How do you even have this many friends when you don't go outside?"

"You don't know anything about me!"

"You're a spoiled brat!" I blurted out. I regretted saying it as soon as I said it, but there was no taking it back now. She covered her face and started choking up. It was always so abrupt when she started crying.

"Look, I didn't mean-"

"Go away," she said between sobs.

I tried to think of something to say to fix this, but nothing came to mind. I said, "I'm sorry," and then left. I went back up to the guest room. I suppose maybe by "go away" she meant she wanted me to leave for good. I figured there was no reason to jump to that conclusion. If she wanted me gone she could tell me.

I wasted the rest of the day trying to calm my mind. Everything was so complicated. Nothing felt like it promised any genuine reprieve.

-

The next day I woke up in time to have breakfast with Lavender's dad again. He seemed unaware of the conflict between his daughter and I, or at least unbothered by it. He also did me the favor of not bringing up the biggest story in America at the moment, the nationwide manhunt for newly crowned mafia don Danny Merlino. "He could be anywhere," was the line. He had vanished in a puff of smoke.

Instead of talking about that, Mr. Paulsen told me about his current work. The guard robot outside and Reginald were both part of a new line he was developing as part of his first military contract. The hope was that they would be able to serve as perfect bodyguards for high-ranking personnel.

"As you know, they're not perfect yet," he said. "Still not totally adept at telling friend from foe, but with a steady regimen of simulated training they've been improving."

I thought about what he was saying. These robots had brains capable of iterative learning based on complex real-world scenarios. They had to be rather similar to human brains. A silicon copy of the human mind, hooked up to a dream machine for hours a day, throwing itself in front of bullets, killing and dying time and time again. It sounded like a philosophical hypothetical. If it were one it would have seemed quaint, a rather obvious question about a future invention that science fiction has already asked us to consider so many times that the idea is mundane. It felt very different when that invention was sitting in the next room.

"I think I encountered one of your robots when we were in town yesterday," I remarked after a long silence.

"Oh yeah, where?"

"At the ice cream shop."

"Ah, right, they do have one of my droids there."

"I assumed you owned the place."

"Why's that?"

"How could a small town ice cream parlor afford one of these?" I asked, gesturing to the robot that had made us breakfast.

"I gave it to them at a heavily discounted price. The owner wanted to retire, but I couldn't bear to see the place close down. It's happened with a few of the old establishments around town. The truth is that this place is dying. This wonderful place. Nobody moves in, all the young people move out. The sun always sets in the end."

"That's too bad."

"It really is. I had—I still have—high hopes for Lavender, that she might go back to the big city and make a name for herself inventing things, but part of me is still happy she stayed here. There's still a spark of youth in this town."

"Yeah..." I trailed off, briefly falling into a daydream of Lavender and I raising a family here, prolonging the twilight of this place for one more generation. I put it out of my head. Ultimately, even if she liked me, I doubted that would suit either of us.

-

I went into town with Reginald again. I decided to look for a birthday present for Lavender. I wanted to regain some favor with her at least, even if things couldn't be repaired fully. I had to get her something nice.

We went to an antique store. I looked around for a while. There were some things I thought she might like but nothing really stuck out to me. Everything was old and dusty and dilapidated. I suppose that shouldn't have been surprising. I ended up buying myself an old-timey pair of binoculars and a swiss army knife. I figured both could be put to good use if I visited the woods again.

We visited an art store next. I realized it was pointless soon after we got there. She would obviously already have anything I could think to buy her. Any obscure piece of art supplies she might still need would be totally unrecognizable to me.

We went to a bookstore. Back in our college days she used to like young adult fiction. I never liked those books much, and so, while I looked over that section, I felt like I lacked any ability to tell good young adult novels from bad ones. I gave up trying and went to the graphic novel section. A lot of the books I found there seemed like things she would like. Fantasy and science fiction stories about young, lost people getting whisked away into worlds totally alien to them and yet, in a way, far easier to navigate.

I found a series of comic books about a boy, by chance, coming into possession of a sentient enchanted doll, and being pulled out of his mundane stew of a life into a world of magic. It seemed almost too perfect. I stood there for a bit reading through the first volume. The doll was fighting other dolls. I didn't exactly get why. The art was very nice.

"Danny Merlino says hello."

As soon as I heard the beginning of that sentence, my hand dove into my jacket, although I knew I couldn't be fast enough. There was a defeaning bang and I froze, waiting. Miraculously, I had never been shot before, but I had heard that the pain would gradually start to emanate from the point of entry until it became unbearable. I waited for those searing waves of pain to start. My vision was blurred and my ears were ringing. Was I dying? It felt like everything was frozen. Maybe death was like that, your final moment stretched out for eternity. The mind, the soul, couldn't die, but it had nowhere to go, so it stayed at that point in time forever.

It was a delirious thought. I snapped out of it. Time sped back up to normal. My ears were still ringing but I seemed okay. My eyes got back into focus and I saw bits of paper drifting down through the air in front of me like confetti. A half-destroyed book fell in front of me, down from the shelf right above my head.

I turned around and saw Reginald holding a giant man up by his throat, holding his wrist tightly in his other hand. The man thrashed and kicked but it made no difference. Reginald twisted the wrist until I heard a cracking noise that made my stomach turn, and the gun fell out of the man's hand. He then released the man's throat and took his other wrist firmly, and then joined the two together high above his head in a swift mechanical motion, holding him up like a freshly plucked carrot.

The store owner came over and I explained the situation. Reginald continued to restrain the man until the county sheriff came and arrested him. There were no security cameras in the place, so in order to confirm my story, the sheriff called upon Mr. Paulsen to extract Reginald's sensory data. He got there in about half an hour with all the necessary equipment and was able to show us a video of my head almost getting blown off. It was a surreal experience.

On his way out the sheriff shook my hand. "Big fan of your work, by the way," he said. I thanked him. It was nice when I met someone with an unreserved positive view of my actions. It was rare. Everyone wanted to add nuance. Just from the grin on his face I could tell the sheriff understood. Johnny Merlino was a bad guy, plain and simple, and he had to go.

By the time everything was taken care of it was already time for the store to close, but the owner was gracious enough to let me buy the comic books I wanted to get Lavender anyway. They came in a box set with shiny art on the cover. It was expensive, but I felt like getting her something expensive would make me feel better.

"I assume that's a birthday present?" Mr. Paulsen said on our way out.

"Yeah. It seems like her sort of thing."

"I think she'll like it."

We got into his car and drove home. He invited me to have dinner with him but I told him I wasn't hungry. I went up the stairs and stood outside Lavender's door, listening intently. Video games, it sounded like.

I thought about knocking and giving her her present a day early. I reached out with a closed fist. I stopped myself. I had just been shot at and my insides still felt a bit scrambled. Dealing with Lavender again was the last thing I needed. I went to my room and stared at the ceiling for a long time.

-

Sleeping pills came to my rescue again that night. I woke up the next day feeling like a wet noodle. My body felt light, but not in a spry way, more like my muscles had all been replaced with water. It was around 11:30.

I went downstairs to have a late breakfast. I was starving, since I'd skipped dinner the night before. I was halfway done with my omelette when the doorbell rang. I got up to get the door without thinking but Mr. Paulsen came running through the kitchen and stopped me.

"Don't get it! I'll go look."

He checked some camera feed on a panel by the door. It seemed to be the guard robot's point of view. From the kitchen I could see two figures in blue jackets. It occurred to me that there wasn't much point in being so careful. If the mafia sent more people, they'd probably just shoot through the windows. Pretending to be cops and knocking on doors wasn't really their style. Mr. Paulsen opened the door for them.

"Good morning, sir. I'm FBI Special Agent Matt Campbell, and this is my partner Agent Tom Banson. Are you Cameron Paulsen?"

"I am."

"Is Sunny Ruscoe staying at this residence?"

"He might be."

I came over to the door. "That's me. How can I help you?"

Campbell addressed me, "Mr. Ruscoe, we were very disturbed to hear about the attempt on your life yesterday. We have just a couple brief questions, if you don't mind answering."

"Shoot."

"Did you know the man who attacked you? Had you ever seen him before?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Did he say anything to you? The sound in the video the sheriff showed us was rather garbled, and it cut off right after the attack."

"Before he shot me he said, 'Danny Merlino says hello.' Afterwards he remained silent until they took him away."

"Alright, thank you. And was this the only threat you've had on your life since leaving New York?"

"Yes."

"Have you observed any suspicious behavior? People or cars that seem to show up too often? Anyone who might be following you?"

"No, and if there were any the robot would have told me."

"I see. When he was interrogated your would-be assassin claimed he'd been stalking you for days. Did you have any suspicion?"

I was taken aback. "No, I didn't."

"Mr. Ruscoe, the main reason we've been sent here is to offer you federal protection. We can arrange for you to be hidden until Danny Merlino is captured, and we can probably arrange for you to be entered into witness protection after."

Agent Banson, who had been looking around the area shiftily, spoke up. "We can take you to the safe house right now if you want."

I thought about it for a while. I must have been standing there silently for about two minutes. My mind was racing. Accepting their offer was the smart thing to do. However, I felt I couldn't leave this place yet. I still had things to do. I still had things to say. I had promises to make, questions to ask, and feelings to proclaim. It was juvenile, but what else is life about? I had never expected to be a part of Lavender's life again. I was faced with yet another pivotal moment of opportunity and I felt I couldn't squander it. I had to seize it, and I had to really see it through this time, and not leave any loose ends behind.

Mr. Paulsen broke the silence. "Sunny, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need, but I think it would be wise for you to go with them."

I thought a bit longer and then spoke. "Mr. Paulsen, if it's okay with you, I'd like to stay here a little while longer."

"That's alright."

"If you want to reconsider," Agent Campbell said, "you can call us anytime. Our agents are working round the clock on this case, so there will always be someone to take your call." He handed me an FBI business card with a phone number and extension scrawled on it.

"Okay. Thank you very much," I said, and then closed the door.

-

Lavender's party was supposed to start at 2. I didn't want my day to get any more troublesome, so I took off with Reginald before she got up. I figured I'd give her her present and deliver my apology speech after the party.

It seemed reckless to stay there, but it would have been even more reckless to go into town. I decided to try my hand at birdwatching. I took my new old binoculars and a book on regional birds that was sitting in the guest room and forged off into the woods. I listened for calls, looked at birds, and tried to identify them.

To be honest, it was boring. Being bored is good sometimes. When it's good I suppose you'd call it serenity. Under normal circumstances the smell of damp wood and leaves and the light breeze swooshing through the trees would set my mind at ease, and I would be able to feel delight at the majesty of the bird. They really are amazing creatures. The delicate precision of the avian form held man in awe and confusion for most of history. Even in modern times their effortless, gentle flight is unreplicated.

Under that day's circumstances, however, there was no serenity to be had. Between the stress of the previous day's events, Lavender pushing me away, and the bleary tint that the night's double dose of sleeping pills put over everything, I felt like I couldn't possibly enjoy anything. My hands shook no matter how deeply I breathed, trying to steady my heart.

I had a dangerous thought. What did I truly want to do? I wanted to intrude. I wanted to know what she was up to. I wanted her to know that I couldn't resist getting closer. I wanted her to see how much she intrigued me. I wanted to draw near.

I walked back towards the house and posted up on a small hill. I knew I'd be in view if someone looked closely, but that didn't bother me. I saw motion inside, but less than I would have expected from fifteen-odd guests. I looked through the binoculars.

There were two people and a lot of dolls. Lavender and a man, surrounded by listless dolls wandering to and fro, now and then catching each others' gaze and touching each others' faces, arms, and hands until they got bored and started drifting again. I watched the strange scene for a while, undetected. Lavender seemed to be engrossed in conversation with the man, whose face I couldn't make out. He definitely wasn't her father. Was he some boy from the neighborhood? He looked young and fit. The glare of the sun on the window obscured him.

At one point they stood up and Lavender fell into his arms. She stood on her toes and let her whole body fall into him, burrowing her face into his shoulder. I remembered when she would hold me like that. My heart almost stopped. I felt a burning inside. The two swayed gently back and forth.

A doll fell off the table and rolled over. Lavender pulled away from the embrace and ran over to inspect it. The man looked out the window. He looked right at me and I stared back at him. I was petrified. It was me, a bit younger and dressed like I would back in college, but unmistakably me. I stared at myself for a while, silent, unmoving, until the other me drew the curtains closed and I was walled out of Lavender's private wonderland forever. I tried to get up but I fell back and lay there in the dirt, gazing up at the sky, and I stayed like that for what felt like hours, letting the wind wash over me. Reginald sat a short distance away, looking out over the fields, keeping watch.

-

I fell asleep outside and it was dark when I woke up again. We walked back to the house. The lights were out and all was still. Everything felt sinister. I went to my room and tried to relax but, once again, I couldn't. Hours crawled by and I felt so alone and scared. The other me, the drawings of my face peeled back layer by layer, the locked door. Was the real danger plotting revenge in a basement in New York, or was it hunched over slightly, dead-eyed, biding its time in that old room down the hall?

I put my gun in my pocket and left my room. No sign of Lavender or her dad. No sound coming from her room. I walked on my toes to the locked door. Time to meet my fate. I tried turning the handle. Locked, as promised. I knew how to pick locks but I didn't have the best materials for it and my hands were shaky. I tried something: I knocked.

A click came from inside and the door opened. My other self was standing there. He gestured for me to come inside.

"You're the original," he said.

"Yes, I am."

"It's nice to meet you. Strange, but still good."

"Do you actually feel that way?"

"Why would I lie to you?"

"I mean, being a machine, do you actually have the capacity to feel that? Uncanniness, fear, intrigue?"

"Hmm... I think so. My brain is at least as complicated as yours. It copies the same movements. Is something read differently if it's written in pencil or pen? But I guess you might not see it that way. Maybe the difference between a biological brain and an electronic one goes beyond the medium."

The answer bored me. It lacked individuality. It felt like something you'd write in an essay to sound impartial. But, I had to admit, it did sound like me. I could see myself saying that if I were a robot.

What really caught my attention was the movement of the other me's mouth and eyes and the subtle shifting of its hands and feet while it spoke. This machine was nothing like Mr. Paulsen's other robots. There was no uncanny quality. It mimicked human imperfection perfectly.

"It's pretty good isn't it?" I heard Mr. Paulsen's voice behind me. In the terror of the moment, I instinctively drew my gun and wheeled around to face him. He casually put his hands up.

"Relax, Sunny. I know my work is kind of creepy, but I don't kill and replace people or anything like that. You're not in any danger."

I lowered the gun slowly. He had no reason to protect me this long and then kill me, I figured. That wouldn't make any sense. Still, my mind wouldn't settle. The terror wouldn't disappate.

"Did you make this thing?" I asked.

"Can't you tell this is too good for me?"

"Lavender made this?"

"Yes. 'A version of him that won't let me down,' she said. She worked on it for years. She became an amazingly skilled engineer in that time."

"I see..."

"I hope she can take over my work one day. If she stops being so weird."

He walked over and pressed a small device to the other me's chest, powering it off. It slumped backwards. It looked like it had fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Mr. Paulsen turned back to me. "I'm really sorry about all this. I wanted you to feel welcome here. And, to be honest, I was hoping that having the real you back would get Lavender a bit more grounded again. It doesn't seem like that worked out."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to blame yourself for any of this. I'm sure you want the old her back as much as I do. I know you loved her. Maybe one day things will be set right again."

I looked into my own sleeping face and then spoke. "I think I should go now."

"That's fine. I understand."

I went back to my room and started packing up my things. The panic had finally left me, but in its place a deep emptiness had set in. The cause I had felt so passionate about the day before, to win back my estranged love, had so quickly been proven lost. I called the FBI and told them I was ready. They gave me an address to drive to.

I took my luggage out into the hall. Lavender was standing there in the dark.

"You're going now?"

"It's dangerous to stay here."

"I know you saw."

"I saw, but I won't try to understand, and I won't judge you."

She wore a downcast look of shame on her face. I felt terrible.

"I left a present for you on the bed," I told her. "I hope you enjoy it."

She smiled, but I could tell it wasn't genuine. "I'm sure I will."

I started to walk past her but she stopped me. She hugged me, breifly and very softly, and then stepped back away.

"It was good to see you. I hope we meet again one day," she said, still looking at the floor.

"Me too," I responded, although I didn't know if I believed myself.

-

I spent the next two weeks stowed away on an Air Force base until the new Don Merlino was finally captured. I was offered witness protection, but I turned it down. They had confiscated $324 million dollars from the Merlino family under RICO, so everyone knew Danny couldn't make good on any bounty he'd put on me. I felt free. I wasn't scared anymore. I wasn't sure what to do, but for the first time in a while, it felt like new possibilities were out there waiting.