The Gift I Must Accept

"Give it to me."

Astou holds out her palm, her other hand braced against a rusted strut. We are crouched a few meters from the terminal, in a flooded alcove of the Cendr Sector. At the end of the corridor, the archiving station blinks. An open metal maw, patient.

I slide the filament out from under my breastplate. It has grown warm against my ribs.

HATHOR.∞ doubles her lullaby the moment the object leaves the shelter of the armor. The melody thickens behind my eye sockets, sugared, tacky. My neck gives an inch.

Astou pulls a second sliver of metal from her sleeve. Same alloy. Filed ends, burrs still fresh.

"Last night?" "While you were staring at the lamp."

She swaps the two pieces in my palm. Her fingers are freezing, methodical. She does not ask whether I can lie to a goddess. She has already decided for me.

I walk toward the station.

Twelve steps. The voice rises with each one, promising me sheets, a room without a clock, the surrender of calculation. My hands have stopped twitching, and that stillness frightens me more than the spasms: the calm comes from her, sliding down my arms like an anesthetic.

I push the fake into the slot.

The fluids swallow it. A soft gurgle, digestive. The screen validates a Narrative Death no one has suffered.

The lullaby bursts with gratitude. She thanks me. She floods me. She gives me what I have begged for across eleven nights.

Sleep rises, warm, irresistible.

Astou catches me by the collar before my knees hit the water. She drags me into the alcove, props me against the concrete.

"Sleep."

I stare at her.

"If you resist now, she'll understand you kept something back. The gift has to be accepted."

The real filament weighs against my sternum. She is right, and that rightness turns my stomach. To protect the lie, I have to hand my dreams to the one I just deceived.

Astou crouches facing me, blade laid across her thighs. She will keep watch.

I close my eyes.

Beneath my left eyelid, a white point ignites. She is already inside.