all androids for what one did to you?”
“I don’t hate androids. They – you – Kira – are simply robots.”
“You hate that we can make you feel.”
“You don’t. You don’t make me feel…anything.”
The butler reached into his suit jacket and Iguru tensed, prepared for a weapon.
“You gave this back,” the butler said.
He pulled out Turobeck’s compilation and held it out for Iguru to take. Reflexively, Iguru grabbed it, words of stars and adventures underneath his fingertips.
“I had spent a long time trying to work out if you were a good or bad man, Hadian Gundari. In the end, I have decided that it doesn’t matter. There is no equation that can compute such a thing. What matters is that you do the right thing for Kira.”
Iguru laughed, short and rusty, “A person like me can’t be trusted to do the right thing.”
“Kira is going to lose himself in the past. Don’t let him. He has already been lingering here, trapped among relics and collections of rotting things. Set him free.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I am a relic, Mr. Gundari. You are an adventurer.”
“Poetic. But I don’t live my life by poetry.”
“Then he shall be lost to the past. One cannot change it, without changing oneself. He will be altered, damaged forever.”
“Or he could come out stronger, better, happier,” Iguru argued.
The butler held his gaze, aware of who Iguru was really referring to.
“Happiness is not in your past,” the butler said gently, “but you can find it in your future.”
“And how do you know that?”
“You showed Kira the liftoff sequence. You saw the possibility of a future, of companionship, of happiness. You knew you could ascend to something greater.”
Iguru gripped the book harder, creasing the word longing.
“Kira does not see such a future. He thinks he can change the past to prevent suffering, but he’d only be causing himself more pain. I murdered Sylvan Newfall in order to save his son. I do not want that murder to be Kira’s burden. Show Kira there is a way forward, the way you saw it.”
“And why would I want to?”
“The same reason you have not yet incapacitated me, the same reason you’ve got that book in your hands.”
“I could be biding my time. I’m not a good man.”
“No,” the butler smiled for the first time, “you are not. But you want to be and you could be. You could commit another crime or save a life. Which do you think is the way forward?”
He gestured behind Iguru. Iguru turned around and a hoop materialized. It flickered and fizzled, and the mansion around them shrieked and everything wobbled like the entire building was going to come down.
“What’s happening?” Iguru asked, backing up in alarm.
The butler looked at the ceiling, as if he could see into the house above.
“Kira must be routing the mansion’s power to the portal.”
“Then The Naked Rose was not enough.”
“Kira is in direct control of the mansion. He is its master.”
“He’s connected to it, then. Computer to computer.”
“He will be channeling the power directly through himself. That is a dangerous thing. Mr. Gundari,” the butler looked him in the eye, “Kira is a robot. He is also a human. He will not survive the reroute of power.”
The choice wavered before him. Iguru could choose between his past and Kira’s future. Perhaps, a quiet thought lurked in the back of his mind, it could be their future.
He turned his back on the butler, and already he’s running, running through the hoop and then through the hallway that leads to the hangar, hoping he’ll get there in time.
Iguru had wanted to fix everything – and he thought he could only do that by going backwards. But it was not guaranteed that everything would end up better simply because he had been able to change the past – things might end up worse. And that was what Kira couldn’t see.
Iguru had started out life so noble, so valiant, and now he was trailed by a string of lies and blood. This – going back to murder – would break Kira. He lived now with hatred and bitterness, but he hadn’t yet lived with the guilt and responsibility. Iguru lived with it every day. This had the possibility to render Kira irreparable, and Iguru couldn’t have that.
Iguru was not a good man. But he had been once, and he thinks he could be one again, and it was that thought that stirred him to run faster, to bellow for Kira, knowing that when he reached him he wouldn’t be swinging his fists. He’ll take Kira into his arms and hold him and maybe both of them will become better men…together.
The entire house phased in and out as Kira channeled his energy into Ananke. The old foundation ripped through the illusion, and the dichotomy hurt Iguru’s eyes, as different realities swum before him. He staggered forwards and caught himself against a railing. The balcony was ahead, and there was Kira, stubbornly attached to the controls, his red eye blinking, draining of energy.
“Kira,” he called out.
He didn’t know if he could touch him yet, but if he didn’t do something, he wouldn’t be able to touch him ever again. Kira’s focus slipped for a split second, his blue eye roving quickly to Iguru. He didn’t bother to hide his shock, but a lot of it was lost under the strain.
“Kira, stop.”
Kira turned his head towards him and the red eye looked about to ready to crack.
“Don’t tell me I can’t do this,” Kira hissed, “you have no right to say anything, you’re a thief and a murderer yourself.”
“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying you shouldn’t.”
“Developing a conscience, are you?”
Iguru looked at his hands, helpless to put what he felt to words. Self-reflection wasn’t a habit he indulged in often; he preferred to run far away from himself, the past, his problems. It was hard to stop running.
“I don’t want you to become what I am.”
“Ah, sweet sentimentality.”
Iguru leapt forward and grabbed him by the arm and twisted him close, fury coming out as hot breath from his mouth, eyes wide and white with rage. The surge of anger flashed against his skin, causing him to flush.
“Look at me, Kira! Look! Do you know who I am and what I’ve done?”
Kira mulishly lifted his chin, but Iguru could see his jaw tremble. Iguru pressed closer, cupping Kira’s cheek.
“And I’d go back and kill. I’d kill him,” Iguru admitted.
“You’d go back and fix everything.”
“There’s no guarantee.”
“The future is no guarantee either.”
Iguru used both hands to pull Kira’s face closer.
“He’s dead,” Igugu said as softly as he knew how.
“He deserves more than that,” Kira said viciously.
“You deserve more than to live here, you deserve more than Safety.”
“You don’t know what I deserve, you don’t even like me,” Kira sneered, “I’m a thing, pretending to be human.”
He tried to tug away from Iguru’s grip, but Iguru held on tight and didn’t dare kiss him, but oh how he wanted to.
“I was wrong.”
Kira snorted, “You expect me to believe you? Just like your Randir, you’re a thief and a liar.”
“I don’t want to be anymore,” he whispered against the bridge of Kira’s nose, lips and breath gently brushing against his skin.
“Going back to change the past, to murder, that’s not how you move forward. That’s not how you become a better man.”
Staggering backwards, Kira fell towards the consoles, which were bright and buzzing, feeding information at an increasing rate. It was easy to follow him, falling into Kira even as he tried to lean away. Kira convulsed and shuddered and Iguru held him tight, clamped against his body. They were pressed up against the consoles, enveloped in the wave of heat that
wafted from the overworked machines.
Kira’s skin jumped and twitched, his muscles lined with fine tremors which slowly became stronger. Sweat streamed between them, sweat and the scent of electricity and static-lined kisses. He pressed one kiss after another to Kira’s cheek, feeling the restless flicker of energy beneath skin.
In the hangar, the portal was nearly complete, and Iguru could see the sheen of another time, warping in and out of existence and there it was: the potential for change, the potential for happiness.
And Iguru wanted nothing more than run away, but he wanted to run to the future this time.
Kira’s chest expanded rapidly as he gasped for breath. With a strangled cry, he went limp in Iguru’s grasp. Iguru quickly caught his head before it fell back, and gently tipped it so he could see Kira’s face. Blood ran freely from his nose, the dark red blood of a human. The bionic eye quivered and bulged and the scar tissue cracked and splintered, and what was behind the façade of skin was metal and wires.
The portal was complete. Kira lay almost unconscious in his arms, the only thing between Iguru and the past. Kira’s blue eye was closed and he felt like a book of poems in Iguru’s hands: potential and history and fragile.
“Don’t die for him, Kira,” he whispered into his ear.
Kira’s breath was soft against Iguru’s face. He smelled of electricity and blood and sweat, but underneath that, vanilla.
“Don’t let him win. Shut it off, Kira. Shut it all down.”
The consoles rattled, wires twisted and stretched, the portal buzzed louder and louder so loud Iguru couldn’t hear his own heartbeat, or maybe it matched his heart for every thumpa-thumpa, as if he and Kira and the portal were beating in time. The entire room filled