“They told me that today they found you in the hospital gown, wandering the aisle… and that they could see your butt,” was the first line Trevor said when he entered the room. “I also heard that you complained about the food.”

“It wasn’t a complaint; it was just a recommendation,” Uri answered from the bed. They had already taken away the IV bag; he had no more electrodes on his chest, nor was he connected to any monitoring equipment. “What’s wrong with demanding a cheeseburger for lunch?”

Trevor took a seat next to his friend, and the two were silent for a long time. The morning was radiant from the window; and the city, imposing as always, although somewhat cold. They could hear the news; someone in another room had the television on and had left the door open.

“How you feel?”

“Better,” Uri said, trying to smile.

“Rita says hello; said she’ll come to see you after the office.”

“Phew! Someone wants to get a big bonus to buy more clothes.”

And they both laughed, even though the joke hadn’t been that funny, and they knew it. Laughing was the easiest way of releasing the awkwardness of the situation.

“Uri, I…” Trevor was the first to speak.

Uri held his breath, begging Trevor not to ask him about what had happened. He didn’t know how to approach the subject of the secret Binary project, that of his brother and that of the mutant proteins, without sounding like a lunatic.

“About the talk the other day, at the nightclub…” Trevor said.

Relief returned to Uri.

“You don’t have to say anything. Since I woke up again, I am another person.”

Trevor left the chair.

“So? What happened?”

I knew it! It was useless to take a deep breath and pretend that his admission to the hospital hadn’t been under strange circumstances. Sooner or later, he would have to face that question.

Sure, he could play the card: ‘I’m sorry, I lost my memory, and I remember nothing,’ but there was a lot of fear in him and a bitter taste of guilt that would give him away in front of anyone.

Uri lowered his gaze.

“Not now,” he said. Sooner or later, he would have to, but not now. “I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”

“When you feel like it, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Trevor.” Uri looked up again, somewhat embarrassed. “I learned from Sarah that it was you who took care of the whole ‘police and questioning’ situation.”

Now it was Trevor who looked down; his white face flushed.

“Well, you know; I pulled some strings…” He took off his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief. “Let’s just say the police investigation of the case will take a very, very slow course.”

“So… If it flows into the sea of ​​oblivion, I’ll be more than happy, y’know?”

“I did it because it was you, and I imagine what he represents for you,” Trevor said. “I mean… you know. Sarah told me about him.”

Thorns. Uri felt many thorns in his chest, there, right between the memories and his wounded sense of responsibility.

“Huh—Juzo, yes.”

“I imagine it’s a delicate thing, and I imagine how you must feel. But I want you to tell me everything when you feel better. Deal?”

Trevor had hardened his countenance. ‘I hate using my social status to put pressure on Justice; make my effort worthwhile,’ said that face, and Uri felt he couldn’t afford to disappoint anyone else again.

“I’ll do it, Trevor. Thank you.”

“Well, cheer up!” Trevor said. “I’m positive this Friday you will already be back in that devilish nightclub, diving into that artificial smoke. By the way, Lisandro Carinae called your office asking for you. Did he visit you?”

Uri snorted.

“If a text message that says, ‘I heard you’re in the hospital. Get well soon’ is equivalent to a visit, then—yes; he visited me,” he said, between shame and disappointment. “Lisandro can mobilize his entire crew so I can appear on the cover of a damn magazine, but visit someone in a hospital? That would be asking too much of him, y’know? I think you were right; those people aren’t friends with me.”

“But you already knew that.”

Uri shrugged and lost his gaze on the city outside the window.

“Sometimes it’s good to be reminded of certain things,” he said.

Trevor left the room a few minutes later when the cleaning service came.

The next day, at noon, Sarah Lanen released Uri.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you home,” she offered.

As they walked through the hospital’s wide corridors toward the exit, among people, patients coming in and out, and doctors going from here to there, Uri saw that, in the distance, next to a door that announced: ‘Only specialized personnel. Please stay away,’ there were two Cyclops automata taking away an old pharmacy refrigerator, probably faulty.

Suddenly, he felt as if someone had blown his insides out, so much so he almost tripped over his own feet.

Sarah held him by the shoulders.

“Something wrong?” she asked worriedly. “Hey, if you don’t feel good…”

Uri knew it was impossible; he knew neither of those two androids was Broga, but he still suffered a hot flash.

“No, no. It’s nothing,” he said, and changed routes, taking the first corridor he found nearby.

“The parking lot is around here,” she pointed out.

“We better go this way,” he said. At that moment, he didn’t care about getting lost in the cavernous hospital, ending up in a dead-end corner or in the gynecology area; anything was better than walking right next to those two robots.

A few minutes later, outside, under the sun and the cool wind rushing by, he realized that he was still shaking.

Calm down. Calm down, he repeated to himself, although he looked around in case he found any other Cyclops out there.

Sarah opened the car, but when Uri was about to get in, he felt something behind him; something like a presence.

“Uri,” someone whispered in his ear. He turned back; his heart in his mouth again.

There was no one there.

“Uri, you okay?”

“Yes, yes. All good. Yes, yes.”