"Except for emergencies like this. To alert Allys."
"I need to talk to you, Locke. Let's sit down."
She pulls me over to the living area and sits, waiting for me to do the same, but I can't. We stare at each other, each of us trying to read the other's thoughts. I feel like everything we ever were is slipping away. I cave first, hoping I can make sense of what just happened. "Is this what you were talking about? That she'd vent and throw things? At least she didn't throw anything."
"And yet..." She leans back and crosses her arms. "I have a broken chair and smashed wall only a few feet away."
I sit down on the couch opposite her. "I'm sorry. It was just so hard watching you two. It was like I was losing you both all over again."
"And you think it isn't hard for me?" She flops back against the couch. "Locke, she was my best friend! But that didn't seem like Kara venting to me. I felt like I was staring at someone I didn't even know."
"What about at the bazaar? I saw you smiling with her."
She stands, hugs her arms to her chest like she's cold and paces the length of the rug between us. "Sometimes, the way she talks, I can almost believe..."
I watch her mind race, trying to justify everything, trying to believe the logic I practically yelled at her this morning: It's only eyes, Jenna. They aren't even hers. Gatsbro made them for her.... How can you judge someone by something made in a lab?
She shakes her head. "But there's still something wrong. None of us are who we once were. The accident was a turning point. It changed all of us, but..."
She is still talking. I see her lips moving, but I only hear the word accident.
It changed all of us. None of us are who we once were. It always comes back to that. I'm sorry. But those words are so pathetically inadequate, I can't say them out loud. What have you done, Locke? I told Kara I was sorry over and over again when her words came at me in the darkness. And when she shifted blame to Jenna, I didn't argue. I was relieved. I knew it was the coward's way out, but it didn't seem to matter then. Now it does. I can't keep ignoring the truth.
"I'm sorry, Jenna," I blurt out, cutting off whatever words were on her lips.
She stops pacing. "What?"
"None of us would be here now if it weren't for me."
"What are you talking about? Of course you had to come here. It was the right--"
"No. The accident. That's what got us to this point. That's what started it all. It was my fault. I'm sorry. If I could die three times over for you and Kara, I would. I'd do anything to take it all back. I'd spend the rest of eternity in that hellhole if it could have spared you." I sit there, my mouth still open, my breath trapped in my chest.
Her brows pinch, and her arms drop to her sides. "You? You've thought it was your fault all these years?"
"It was my idea, Jenna."
"Locke, we all made the same choice. Kara and I wanted to go just as much as you."
"That's not how I remember it. You didn't want--"
"Locke, listen to me! Guilt does terrible things to our memories. It was my car. I could have said no. I knew Kara hadn't been driving for long. I have more than my share of guilt. And think of Kara. Look what she's had to live with all these years. She was driving. She was the oldest. What has guilt done to her?"
"She never admitted any guilt to me."
"That doesn't mean it's not there."
But what if it's something else besides guilt? The words don't have to be spoken. I see enough in Jenna's face to know she's wondering the same thing. What if Kara didn't come through this okay? What if, during all those years trapped in a black box, little pieces of her dissolved away? Were those environments really meant to hold anyone for that long?
I think about my dark thoughts--just as dark as anything I saw in Kara's face.
What if I'm missing something too, only no one has noticed yet? Maybe the ten percent really does make a difference. My joints ache, and I suddenly feel weak, like every biochip in me is surrendering at the thought. "How far is too far, Jenna? Where's the line between miracle and monster?"
Jenna sits down across from me, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest. She shakes her head. "I don't know, Locke. You'd think after all these years everything would be black and white for me, but it's not. The world keeps changing, and so do my thoughts about it." She sets the pillow aside and leans forward. "All I know is that no one wants to die. As long as people can think up new ways to preserve life, they will."
"With varying degrees of success."
She nods. "Yes, but then, even people who are whole wear their humanity with varying degrees of success, don't they?"