Rayner continues his story with a dark crease between his brows. "Uncovering one secret just uncovered loads more. Really bad company corruption shit. I'm sure your search gave you plenty of details."

"It did."

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Rayner says, "I took what I knew to my Dad, thinking he could do something about it. I don't know why I expected that this, of all things, would bring out his humanity. I guess you just always have that little bit of hope, eh? No such luck. We fought, and I don't know, it seemed as good a time as any to throw the 'I'm gay' card in his face. So I did that. And he told me to pack a bag and leave. That he'd strike my name from the family record. Know how long that took? Six hours. Cyber security firms, turns out, are also really good at expunging the data records they purport to protect. Overnight, I was no one. I had no name, no profile, no security number, no job. Just a few belongings, my car, and the cash in my wallet. Couldn't even access my bank account 'cause I was nobody."

It feels as though Hale's been struck through with a hot poker. The idea of anyone throwing Rayner out, let alone his own father, fills him with a burning fury. He decides that, along with Damo, he hates Rayner's family too.

Damo's voice answers him.

>>Hey. I'm not that shitty.

>>I submit as evidence to the contrary, you shouldn't even be listening to this conversation.

Out loud, Hale says, "So you exposed them."

Rayner nods. "Yep. I might have been living out of my car, but I spent a lot of time working for SafeHouse plugging up the loopholes in their security. I knew I could hack their databases if I tried. So I just...threw myself into tearing it all down."

Hale tilts his head. Rayner's voice took on a dour note that he finds difficult to place. By his account, Rayner should be proud. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"I don't know. Yeah, they sucked, but they also employed lots of people who lost their jobs 'cause of me. I told myself it was the right thing, but was it? Not like it made me any happier, either."

Hale wonders how Rayner feels now. His serotonin levels aren't indicative of depression. He seems neither overly chipper nor cynical in his disposition. Simply even keel.

Hale says, "None of my programming is equipped to answer those questions. But I believe, if your father had agreed to a more ethical approach, if he'd been as good a man as you, it would never have necessitated the action you took." He pauses, raising his eyebrows. "Did you ever hear from him?"

Rayner smiles wryly. "In the middle of it all, I got a deposit in my new account of a few million, with a note 'kindly requesting' I stop all this 'for the sake of the family.' It's a stupid low amount coming from a billionaire. His yacht probably cost more. I gave most of the money away. To charity. To the actually homeless folks, 'cause I still had a car at least. Bought up a big plot of wild land way up North so companies couldn't tear down the trees and build another concrete cinderblock. I didn't want their blood money so giving it away was one last 'fuck you' to my dad, I guess." Rayner chews his lip. "The rest is history. I had a new name and tried to put it all behind me. Had a number of failed relationships, friendships. Theo's the only one who stuck around while I was a mess. And I moved out to a suburb because I was just...convinced I was like cancer. I don't know, this is hard to explain, and it's the whole point of me telling you all this. But I think I know what you mean about...being afraid that you're just made up of broken bits from things that came before. I was—still am—terrified of becoming my father. Yeah, what I did, it was an attempt to set right the wrongs of my Dad. But it was also cruel and vindictive, in a way. And even when I tried to have real relationships, I got so good at pushing people away. So am I that different?"

"Yes," Hale says fiercely. "You are the kindest person I've ever met, and I savour every moment spent with you." His voice staggers as the words spill out before he has time to check them. Perhaps that had been a little too much. He tries to sound blunt and factual. Like Theo. "You're nothing like your father."

Rayner looks down at his hands twisting together in his lap. "What I'm trying to say. Really badly, anyway. And I know it's not the same, because the androids who make up who you are probably weren't bad people, and my parents definitely are, but...we're all just the messy product of genetics and code, history and experience. There's the stuff we control, like what we do and how we treat people, and the stuff we can't, like who our 'parents' are."

That gives Hale pause. He never thought to relate his own creation to genetics or evolution, largely because no current literature on artificial intelligence, at least that he can find, has done so. It almost seems taboo to anthropomorphize androids in academia, regardless of how human they're designed to be.

"Perhaps you're right," Hale admits. "Though it seems unfair that I exist at the expense of other androids."

"Yeah," Rayner agrees. "But you can't control that now. I think the best thing you can do for the androids who died is to live a happier, better life? And hope that they live on through you. If that's not too cheesy to say."

Hale finds himself smiling just a little. It's a comforting thought.

"I hope that's true," he says. "Perhaps it's narcissistic to believe all my thoughts and actions are beyond influence and solely my own."

"They are your own, Hale," Rayner says. He hunkers down in the seat, stretching his legs out along the reupholstered interior. "No one else has ever built a sanctuary out of a broken car for me, so...I think that makes you pretty unique."

He says it while holding Hale's gaze with his own, expression soft and searching. It's incomprehensible, what Rayner said about his parents not loving him.

Hale can't imagine how anyone could not.

Rayner's reclined all the way down on the seat, head pillowed against one of the many cushions Hale sewed together. His mouth is tugged down in a slight frown, and Hale is consumed by the urge to smooth it away with his thumb and press a kiss there instead. Since the nervous system upgrade, his thoughts frequently return to the idea of kissing Rayner. Now the impulse to reach out and draw him closer is so compelling that Hale's arm nearly moves to complete the action.

He disguises it by lying down instead. He tries to focus on the raindrops playing against the car windows and slowing the beating of his heart. Damo's voice returns to distract him instead.

>>If you two useless homos don't get your asses to pound town, I'm declaring you hopeless.

>>Don't be so crude.

>>What would you prefer? Sweet love making? A night to remember? Who cares how I say it, if you two are just gonna pussyfoot around each other until you're geriatric.

>>I'm not—

Hale hesitates. He isn't sure he wants to tell Damo about the rejection he'd faced upon offering sex.

But then, he doesn't need to say this out loud for Damo to catch on.

>>Ohoho, don't make me laugh, Haley. You seriously think he doesn't want you back?

Hale bristles. This is not a conversation he wants to have with Damo of all people.

>>Not that it's your business, but he's rejected my advances very clearly.

>>Yeah, but he also very clearly wants to bang you like a door in a hurricane. So maybe put that pedantic brain to better use and figure out why he's turned ya down. Or just throw him down and rip his clothes off; that should make your intentions plenty clear.

Hale finds he can't give much credence to the romantic advice of an android with all the social grace of a cactus. Before he can voice these thoughts another way though, Damo retaliates.

>>Hey, fuck you, mate! I'm trying to help. What the fuck is your beef with me anyway?

>>Besides the fact you've forced me into an illegal Network link without my consent? Besides blackmailing me into lying and hiding things from my friends? Besides being insufferably rude and invasive—

Damo's tone turns scathing. Hale isn't sure how he conveys tone with what amounts to digital text, but he does.

>>Eh, get fucked! I didn't do any of that stuff before you decided you hated me for no damn reason.

>>And since then, you've done everything possible to reinforce my suspicions were correct.

There's a pause of several milliseconds that would normally have been long enough for six more messages, during which Hale thinks he receives a message that deletes itself so quickly he barely has time to read it. After that he only receives one more.

>>Yeah, you're right. You think I'm an evil son of a bitch just out to take everything you've got? Fine. Guess that's who I'll be.

With that, the connection goes dead. Damo manages to turn 'going offline' into the stroppy slamming of a door. Hale can't say why, but it fills part of him with a sinking dread and even a small amount of guilt. The guilt in particular eats at him like a drop of acid. He's almost certain the message that came through before Damo promptly deleted it was I thought we could be friends.

That can't be right. Damo's done nothing friendly since they met. Except, Hale admits to himself, the donation of his nervous system.

He doesn't want to dwell on it, particularly not now. Hurling the problem into background processing and closing it off, Hale returns his attention to Rayner. He doesn't seem to notice any change in Hale's disposition—the argument with Damo only took three seconds. In that time, Rayner's stretched out on the opposite side of the car, head pillowed on his arm, gaze half-lidded with fatigue.

Despite the emotionally draining conversation about his past, Rayner seems more relaxed than he has in weeks.

"I think I could actually fall asleep here," he says.

"That was the intent." Hale pulls a blanket out of the middle compartment. Unfolding it, he lays it over Rayner and tucks it around his shoulders.

"Thanks. Might be a little hot with the blanket and the space heater though," Rayner mumbles.

"I'll turn off the heater for now."

As Hale does, Rayner's hand reaches out from under the blanket and takes his. For a brief moment, a look of vulnerability crosses Rayner's face before it shutters closed.

"You're sure you're not angry that I was involved with...all that horrible stuff?"

Hale's heart stutters in his chest. "No. Of course not."

Rayner's lips twist in a little smile, then he lets go of Hale's hand.

"I should try to sleep before I kill your battery."

"Yes," Hale agrees. "I'll just go inside to clean up, then I'll return."

While Rayner slips slowly into sleep, Hale opens the door and hurries out. The space heater certainly worked well. The cold air slinks under Hale's clothes and raises his skin in goose flesh—a sensation he still hasn't grown accustomed to. He climbs the stairs and rushes back inside out of the rain.

The kitchen is lit by a single bulb, and Theo sits at the table. She looks up at his return, a sly smile on her lips.

"I take it he liked the present?"

Hale nods, hiding his grin behind a shrug as he shakes raindrops off. Theo had played no small part in helping with his project. "I came in to clean up."

"Already taken care of, bud."

Theo lifts a mug of hot apple cider to her lips and drinks while Hale inspects the kitchen.

"Thank you. You didn't need to."

"I was trying to give you two time alone together, you know."

Hale says, "He told me about his family."

Theo raises her eyebrows so high, they nearly reach her hairline. "Then you're one of only two people he's told. And obviously the other person is me."

And Damo, Hale thinks with a pang of guilt. Though that had been an unintended consequence.

"Anything else you wanna tell me, Hale?" Theo says.

There's a hidden implication in her tone that makes his heart rate trip. He can't be certain what she means by the question. Whether it's about his developing feelings for Rayner, or if she's intuited something about Damo's hack, or if it's just about the various upgrades and projects they've been working on together. Thankfully her ambiguous phrasing frees him of obligation to answer in full.

He goes with the last and safest option. "I have gathered several samples for my olfactory bioarray to help diversify the library of available scents and tastes."

She sighs. Clearly, she'd been digging for something else. Hale is almost sorry to have disappointed her, but he doesn't know how to discuss the other two things yet.

She doesn't pry further. "Sure. Ping the list to my HoloPhone, and I'll go over it with Rayner tomorrow."

Hale bites his lip. "Does it require Rayner's assistance?"

Theo gives him a dark look. "Well, he's the programmer. Why? You trying to hide something from him?"

Hale swallows. "Yes. It's... slightly embarrassing."

"Oookay, do I want to know?"

Hale finds it hard to explain right away, so he pings her with the list he's already prepared. She raises her wrist, the HoloPhone strapped around it projecting her messages before her. She scrolls through the list—tamarind, cedar wood, a few varieties of spicy pepper not available in the current flavour roster—then pauses when she comes to an item near the end. Her eyes raise to meet Hale's across the kitchen, her expression amused.

Hale delivers his prepared explanation. "If separated and cut off from Network tracking, I could trace Rayner by scent this way."

Out loud, it sounds ridiculous. Theo snorts. "You don't need to give me an excuse. You can just say you wanna know what he smells—or tastes— like."

Hale can feel himself turning crimson and thanks the poor lighting of the kitchen that Theo probably can't see it. Though the reasoning he provided made more logical sense, he has to admit that Theo's right. He can smell the soaps Rayner uses, or aftershave, or laundry detergent. He can't smell Rayner. And part of him, fixated on the idea of kissing him, can't reconcile that fantasy with the idea that Rayner might smell and taste like nothing.

By all accounts, it's not as though he should smell or taste particularly strong. According to all Hale's searches, human beings with pungent odours are considered unpleasant or unhygienic, and the aim is to have the most mild, inoffensive scent possible, or to employ artificial scents like perfume. Still, if he can ever hope to experience these things, he'd like to experience them in full.

Theo decides to spare him further mortification. "I'll just tell Rayner it's like puppy fur and skin cells, all right? I bet they haven't put puppy smell in there. Did you know puppies smell really different from dogs? Anyway, I won't tell him."

Hale breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Theo." Despite his hesitation, and the easy out she's given him, Hale finds himself summoning the words he'd withheld.

"I think I have feelings for Rayner."

Theo's expression is almost pitying. "I know, Hale."

"And perhaps it's presumptuous to include that item now. Rayner has not made any romantic advances. But if he were to...I'd like to..."

"Say no more." Theo shuts the screen of her HoloPhone. "And it's not my business, but...why don't you tell him?"

Hale shifts uncomfortably. "I've made advances in the past—"

"No, Hale. Told him about your feelings. Not offered sex the way hotels offer complimentary mints."

Hale's stomach twists. He tries to imagine putting words to his yearning and speaking them aloud into the quiet, comfortable space carved out for him and Rayner. It makes his heart drum and his chest clench painfully. Because what if he places this new, vulnerable hope in Rayner's hands, and Rayner can't hold it? What if Rayner's feelings aren't like that?

No matter what Damo or Theo says about how much Rayner trusts him, no matter what his biology scans and data streams tell him about Rayner's behaviour, he finds it difficult to imagine that Rayner wants him back.

What's more, he's supposed to be improving himself so he can return to Melissa. That was the idea. One he finds difficult to revisit because it pains him. After all they've done for him, it's difficult to imagine leaving Theo and Rayner. Yet his programming directives make that seem like a foregone conclusion. They've established Melissa's well-being as the foremost priority. Once he's achieved a level of sophistication comparable to Damo, this baseline programming obligates him to return to Alder Close.

Even if he doesn't want to.

What would be the purpose in revealing the depth of his feelings, only to abandon them?

If he could learn to hack, perhaps he could delete this directive and replace Melissa with Rayner as the primary beneficiary of his services, but even the thought gives him a spike of guilt. He isn't certain it's possible. The spectre of Melissa, looming in the corner of his mind, seems like a permanent fixture.

Theo gets up from the table. She seems to read into his silence enough, because she pads over and puts a hand on his shoulder. It smells of motor oil and apple cider.

"I'm not gonna tell you what to do, 'cause it's not my place to meddle. I'll just tell you a thing that I know."

Hale nods mutely.

She says, "It's important to choose people who choose you back."

While Hale puzzles over that, she drains the rest of her cider and sets the mug on the counter.

"I'm off to bed. But like always, my door's open if you need to chat."

Hale's brows furrow. He turns the lights out after Theo's gone and leaves through the back door again. Down the steps, sloshing through the garden, then opening the car door as quietly as he can.

Inside, Rayner stirs at the sound but doesn't wake entirely. Taking off his shoes, turning off the fairy lights, and grabbing an extra blanket, Hale gets comfortable on his side of the car. He's come to enjoy the weight and warmth of a heavy blanket before entering rest mode. Before he does, he thinks about what Theo said. It's important to choose people who choose you back.

He remembers having a similar, though not identical, thought back in Alder Close. While watching Melissa strive and struggle to win the approval of her friends and neighbours, who always held it just out of her reach. People who rarely valued her time and presence. People who were, themselves, desperately unhappy and keen to see their misery reflected in the world around them.

Hale isn't sure whether that's what Theo meant. Or if her parting words were intended to encourage him to confess his feelings or deter him from it. Or none of those things. Maybe she'd predicted his programming's direction to return to Melissa, and she was asking him not to choose her over them.

He doesn't manage a conclusion either way. He enters rest mode to the soft snores of the man sleeping across from him.