“Sir, are you all right?”

“Fine,” I say, “I’m fine,” even though I do not sound fine.

Behind Gilbert, a multitude of dead trees are risen in perfect lines, like soldiers made of stone. Their branches reach for the sky; the sight of them reminds me of skeleton hands I’d found in a trashcan during my first hunt for food, when I realized my days of comfort in Exia were over.

Gilbert shifts from one foot to the other. My blood goes cold when I notice the exact same gun I watched him assault me with is held tightly in his left hand. Yet, instead of attacking me, Gilbert presses his palm to my knuckles and guides my fingers, until they are curled around the gun. “Do not worry. I do not believe that using this will be necessary,” he tells me. “I am taking the proper precautions, that is all. Unless,” he pauses. “Would you prefer to wait out here, Sir? I am also able to leave this weapon with you and enter alone, it would not be an issue. I would do my best to be back very soon.”

I hate that it’s still raining. My past and present are muddled together. It isn’t helpful. Because I can’t stop myself from reliving old memories that should be long gone by now.

As we follow a retaining wall made of stone, that comes to hug a large, disheveled field where dry grass reigns, my attention wavers to the abandoned museum pelted by a myriad of droplets of water, that stands tall up ahead like a strange, giant crouching man.

I sigh. “I’ll go with you,” I say.

Truthfully, I’d like to stay, but I know I’m probably best off if I stick with Gilbert. I don’t come here often. It’s hard to say what kind of monsters could be lurking in wait for an easy target; I’d rather not find out, if I can help it, I think, all the while ignoring a discarded Android’s head that rolls across the road, whose eyes are no longer welcome in its skull.

As we approach the museum, the storm continues to rage. I can barely recall a day when it was ever this bad around here. It’s usually hot and stuffy, not humid, like this. But, at least I got some food in my stomach. I feel stronger now.

I cough into my fist and clear my throat. “So…” My boots knock over a bunch of dead leaves in the museum’s courtyard. “This is, uh… You’re gonna have a closer look at those old Androids, yeah?”

Gilbert nods. “Correct!” he chimes. “I believe that analyzing parts from the very first Androids will likely be of much use to us in this investigation!”

Us? I frown. “What do you mean by us?”

He pauses. If I hadn’t been staring at him, I might have missed the brief twitch in his lip, but I don’t. And it worries me, because soon after, Gilbert covers it up with one of his usual, nonchalant smiles. “The entire civilization living on this planet,” he says. And, heck, that’s definitely not what he meant.

This is messing with my brain.

Androids shouldn’t have the capacity to lie.

We reach the portico. It isn’t common to see buildings styled in such an old fashioned manner these days. The words ‘A Brief History of Androids and Their Descendants’ are inscribed in fancy lettering across a golden plaque whose edges have faded into a rusted tint of dirty copper.

I gulp. I can’t tell if my head is spinning because I’m lacking sleep, or if it’s just my nerves. Although I have Gilbert’s gun to defend myself, that doesn’t change the fact that I’ll have to enter this wretched place; the thought alone makes me want to crawl into a hole and die.

The front door opens with a devilish creak. The stink of cobwebs, mold and dust greet my lungs. I cough next to Gilbert once more and envy him for a short moment. He’s lucky, in a sense—he doesn’t have to experience the chaos that having a mortal body entails.

“Shall we go inside?” he asks, with a curt motion of his hand that causes my attention to travel from the peeling wallpaper, to the register bathed in darkness, until my gaze finally reaches the floorboards at our feet.

It seems it was initially covered in cheap materials that I assume were meant to resemble the steel on Androids, yet, now that half of the carpet has been ripped, the desired effect is definitely subtle, considering the miserable clump of wooden boards strung together beneath its initial skin is in full view, and where nails once were, now only remain tiny holes, who also happen to be covered in silk webbing.

I wonder where they went, and who took them. They couldn’t have all just naturally disappeared. It’s been a while, but it hasn’t been that long. And therefore… it means someone’s been here before.

I bite my lip. I hope... that whatever it was is gone now. There’s a limit to how much crap someone should have to deal with in a day, and I’ve definitely reached my breaking point. Just as I think this, that is when I see it—a pair of eyes that peek out at us from the darkness, beneath the museum’s staircase. “U-um… Gilbert?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

I tug on his sleeve. “We have a problem.”