Because of his ability to observe things around him without necessarily giving them his full and direct attention, Rob knew Jo was spending a lot of time with Annie, particularly in the evenings and sometimes not even in the real world. He suspected, though he didn’t know for certain, that Jo was instructing Annie much as she had done when Rob arrived. Though Annie was far more intuitive and adaptive than Rob, there were probably things that only a person from the real world would pick up.

  And Rob was still learning, even after nearly six years.

  So he didn’t ponder their secretive meetings other than noting that they were occurring.

  What they talked about was not his business.

  There were other things he noticed.

  A large skip bin had been dropped off at the front of the Braam’s property and workers, probably hired by Koen and Dorothea’s son, Kurt, who was in Glenwilde overseeing their care, began to clear the rubble, using machines at first to grab larger pieces before using their gloved hands to shift the smaller ones. With his hearing, he heard one of the workers ask about keeping anything and his supervisor said not to bother.

  For some reason this troubled Rob. Though there wouldn’t be much to reclaim, he felt that not everything was lost. Every night during the clearing process, Rob carefully picked through the remains, searching for anything that could be saved. However, the fire had been ruthless.

  And yet, on the third night, he managed to come away with a treasure.

  “Oh Rob,” Jo breathed as she held the broken frame gingerly, “I can’t believe you found this! Dorothea will be moved to tears!”

  “My motivation was not to cause Dorothea Braam more grief.” Rob insisted.

  “I mean she’ll be so happy.” Jo looked at the picture, saved because of the glass which protected it, cracking in the process. It was a photograph of the Braams on their wedding day. “Photos were extremely expensive and as such, only taken on special occasions.”

  “Query, could we replace the frame? It is damaged.”

  “I’ll find a beautiful frame in town.” Jo promised. “We’ll clean it up carefully and take it to them in their new home.”

  While Rob could not feel joy about his success, there was a sense of elation, that his efforts had been rewarded, to save something a fire, time and a bulldozer could not destroy.

  It was barely a day after the block was cleared of all rubble, the foundation laying barren amidst a large grass block that was overgrown in some places and crushed into mulch in others, that a ‘for sale’ sign was erected at the front of the property.

  Rob couldn’t help but notice it.

  More than that, he took note of it.

  He found himself calculating the days, hours, minutes and even seconds that the sign was there.

  Three days, twenty two hours, twelve minutes and fifteen seconds after it appeared, a large sticker was placed over the top of the sign. It was now ‘under contract’.

  A cursory search of property sale terms told Rob that someone had committed to purchasing the land.

  He wasn’t sad or melancholy about it.

  Yet he did seem to think about it more than he thought he would.

  And he was also more than usually aware of anyone who walked up to the property, possibly trying to ascertain who had purchased it.

  Thankfully his fractured attention didn’t impact his ability to perform his duties, tallying totals and processing payments, keeping track of stock used and ordering more when required. The café was open in its entirety now and because the weather was so fine, even the courtyard was utilised as the interior simply wasn’t big enough for all the customers. Many liked to sit outside and enjoy the extensive plants, potted and in the ground and took photos of the Observatory. To keep the doors and fictional words secret and safe, the glass doors were locked, citing that the unique landmark was being preserved for special occasions which was entirely true. The added benefit was that no one could remove books, possibly cutting off access to any of the worlds.

  Bethany and Jo worked as waitresses during the busiest portions of the day. Coffee was always popular, Bastian’s culinary masterpieces were plentiful, Faelan’s desserts were highly sought after and now Annie’s lemonade and cold brew coffee additions to the menu were another House of Figs delight.

  It was the day after the ‘under contract’ sticker had gone up on the ‘for sale’ sign that Jo approached him when House of Figs had closed.

  “Rob, could I have a word?”

  A thought occurred that not five years ago, Rob would have answered with, “Certainly. Query, which word would you like?”

  Instead the modern Rob turned to Jo and nodded. “Of course.”

  Jo opened the front door and smiled at him. Rob knew that was her way of asking him to go with her. He followed dutifully, down the steps and the path to the gate which she opened and closed behind them.

  “Query, where are we going?”

  “Not far.” Jo linked her arm through his. “Rob…I want you to know how much you mean to me.”

  Despite not being able to feel pleasure, Rob was still pleased that he was valued by someone he looked up to as a guide and protector. “I deeply value you as well, Jo.”

  “I keep thinking of when you first arrived here,” she said as she walked him very slowly along the path, “you were so…artificial.”

  “I have not changed in my artificiality,” Rob argued lightly, “however, I too have been considering the way I have changed over the past five years.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes.” He blinked. “There are many instances reminding me recently of the way I used to be and the way I am now.”

  Jo turned to face him, her glasses sparkling in the afternoon light. “I’m glad you can see how far you’ve come. That’s important to recognise. Because you have, Rob…you’ve come so far.”

  “Query, is this the extent of our walk?” Rob looked at the property. “We have not come so far today.”

  “Actually…today is going to be a really big leap.” Jo seemed to be bracing herself to say something then she paused and reached into her pocket, taking out a piece of folded paper. Rob felt an unidentifiable quiver as his blueprint drawing of a rebuilt home on the Braam property was revealed. “Rob…whether or not you realise it, this,” she smiled, “is your way of being creative…of hoping for something more.”

  “I have never said I needed…” Rob’s protest was silenced as Jo put her finger across his lips.

  “A good parent can read her children’s needs and wants even without words. There’s nothing wrong with wanting more.”

  Rob gazed at the page. “Irrespective of wanting more, the fact is the property has sold.”

  “I know,” Jo breathed in deeply, “I bought it.”

  Rob stared at her. “Query…you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Query, you bought the Braams’ land?”

  “I did.”

  Out of all the outcomes of the conversation, this was not one that had entered into his calculations.

  “Query…why?”

  Jo took his hand and put the blueprint into it. “Because I want you to have your dream.”

  Her eyes were full of tears and she was trembling yet her smile was broad and sincere.

  Rob couldn’t fathom it. “I must repeat my query, why?”

  She sniffed, holding his hands. “Because you lived three years in a box waiting for someone to open your door.” The tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks. “You’ve had so little…”

  “I have had everything I need…” Her hand cupped his cheek.

  “All your life in Infinitus,” her voice broke, “you’ve only ever been needed, never wanted. Your existence has always been at the whim of others and in the absence of their need, you have had nothing. In your mind, there is nothing more to have…and the proof of that is you’ve been happy living in an office.”

  Rob shook his head. “I do not sleep nor do I require personal space. There was no need for me to have anything more. I should never have wanted…” Jo’s eyes widened and Rob’s voice stopped as the revelation of his words hit him hard. “I…wanted…more…” He stepped back. “Jo, I…I am grateful for all you have done. Please forgive this lapse in my programming…”

  “It’s not a lapse,” she argued, “it’s human…and just because you want more, doesn’t mean you aren’t grateful.” Rob hesitated, unsure. Jo put her arms around him, drawing his head down to her shoulder so she could whisper in his ear. “Don’t let your past restrict who you are.” She drew back and eyed him firmly. “You’re not the same Rob who was only called upon when needed.”

  His brown eyes remained steadfast. “That is because you made a place for me where I could be.”

  Jo wrapped her fingers around his hand that held the blueprint. “The next step is for you to make yourself a place to be…nice and close…because I couldn’t imagine ever losing you.” She laughed, wiping at the tears on her face.

  Rob gently brushed them aside. “If the Observatory should ever cease to be, this is where I would choose to remain.” He vowed firmly.

  Jo sniffed and nodded. “So…want to go for a walk around your new home?”

  They did a lap around the property, carefully avoiding the brambles at the back and walking around the slab which was all that remained of the house.

  “I must confess I am pondering the query about how you acquired the funds to purchase the land.” Rob paused. “Query, you did not secure a loan extension on House of Figs, did you? After all, a loan extension large enough to purchase the property would put far too great a strain on the income of the café and even a deposit would mean there are repayments on either…”

  “Rob, don’t panic.” Jo winked. “We’ve got it in hand.

  “Query, we?”

  “We.” They stood on the cracked foundation. “It turns out Annie is quite the astute investor.”

  “Query…Annie?” This notion astonished Rob. Annie had learnt something without being taught. Faelan had taught her how to make lemonade and Rafael had learned with her to make cold brew coffee. Rob had learnt how to sketch blueprints but that was after five years of developing subroutines that would bypass his service programming. Annie had been in the real world less than five months. “Query, has this been proven?”

  “We’ve been testing her ability for the past six weeks.” Jo sat on the edge of the block, Rob sitting next to her. They faced House of Figs, a thick hedge and white picket fence dividing the two properties. “When I trusted that she could do the job and that she understood her responsibility towards House of Figs, we talked to the bank about the loan and options and then we spoke to Koen and Dorothea.” Jo chuckled. “I think Dorothea would have happily given you the property.”

  “That would not have been a wise decision,” Rob paused, “however, it would have been an extremely generous gesture.”

  “I would never have agreed to it either.” Jo promised. “They need the money from the sale of the land to pay for their current costs. Kurt was there as well. He kept insisting the land was worth more but Dorothea, she wouldn’t hear of raising the price. In the end, I offered a middle ground solution.” Jo turned to him. “It’s still under contract so it isn’t completely finalised yet but that’s just a matter of time. And then there’s the enormous task of building the house…”

  “And the cost of doing so.”

  “That’s some of what was negotiated in the loan and why Kurt allowed for the price of the land to not be as high as he wanted. I mean, it has a residential foundation,” Jo patted it, “but it and the plumbing and electricity…it’s all very old. We’ll need to get tradesmen in and the block itself might need work,” she leaned against him, “but it’s all yours.”

  “It is in your name, Johanne West.”

  “It’s your home, Rob,” she insisted, “I’ll be the landowner in name only although I wouldn’t mind hearing about all the things you’re going to do.”

  Rob stood up and turned on the spot, looking around the land. “Query, would you like to hear my first suggested change to the property?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Query, may I put a gate in between House of Figs and this land?”

  Jo hugged him. “Absolutely.” She pointed to a place between two hedges. “How about there?”

  “That would be adequate.”

  She laughed and took his hand. “Come on. Let’s share the news with the others.”

  Jo had not exaggerated about the amount of work that would need to be done to the property. Rob suspected that, had he possessed emotions, he might have been overwhelmed by it all. However, he did not and as such, the pages of contracts, building site inspections, electrical, plumbing and foundation tradesmen quotes and work estimates and council guidelines were simply a matter of absorbing and dealing with one at a time, organising them into levels of importance and urgency.

  Jo was happy to lend an ear and make suggestions but she trusted Rob to make his own decisions and come to her when he had questions. Rob’s greatest ally in the endeavour was Annie.

  He had thanked her politely and sincerely for her efforts.

  “It was no trouble.” She replied succinctly and that was that.

  Rob would lay out what needed to be done and Annie would explain what income would be coming in and how they could utilise it.

  “If we had six months to wait, I would suggest putting all the profit back into the investment portfolio in order to generate larger gains,” Annie tilted her head, “however, we can use what is incoming to pay for the work and materials and the gain will come later when expenses are not so great.”

  “It is my understanding, upon becoming a homeowner, that the expenses never truly subside,” Rob repeated something he had heard said in the past, “however, I doubt those who have said as much began their homeowning existence with a bare foundation.”

  In a way, the bare foundation was an excellent ‘ground zero’ base to start from. Because Rob’s ultimate plans were much grander than the Braam’s original residence had been, the original plumbing and wiring would not be adequate. As they had to be brought up to date and safe, Rob decided to have to second stage plan plumbing and wiring done at the same time.

  He was also able to cut costs by doing much of it himself, downloading textbooks and manuals as well as many blogs by home renovators. At night or when House of Figs was closed, he would change into his coveralls and steel toe boots, go out the gate which had been promptly installed and work on his future home. When anything was nearing completion, he would contact a licenced tradesman to come and inspect the job and sign off on it, fulfilling building regulations.

  The others helped where they could. Faelan and Bastian got the brambles under control and Eustace’s strength, which surpassed even Rob’s, was used to bring building materials on site under the cover of darkness so that he wasn’t seen by the neighbours. Yet it was Rob and Annie who lived entirely in the real world who did most of the work. They worked so well together that it wasn’t long before the skeletal structure of the house was in place and then the walls began to fill in and the roof went on.

  Eustace was able to dig into the hill where the carport was and used stone to create a retaining wall which would serve as a load bearing foundation for the residence above. Eventually the carport would be entirely enclosed with an automatic roller door and a staircase would lead from the garage to the residential level.

  “You could have made the carport and even the house wider,” Rafael said as he brought a tray of coffee to the workers, “there’s quite a gap on the right between the side of the house and carport to the neighbour.”

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  “I intend for that to become a paved driveway which will circle around the back of the property.” Rob explained. “This will allow those who avail themselves to the accommodation I intend to build somewhere to park.”

  “Your concept of long term planning is fantastic.” Abram admired, his hands wrapped around the mug of coffee, his body clad in his signature dark blue coat which came from Atannica. “Can’t wait until the walls are all solid though…”

  Cold weather came quickly in Glenwilde. Though the sun was bright and shinning most days, the air was becoming crisp and biting. The courtyard of House of Figs closed. It was too cold to sit outside. The days shortened and the smell of coffee and Bastian’s cooking drew many to sit inside the café and enjoy its sanctuary.

  Rob and Annie were not affected by the cold and they could see in the dark so they continued to work. The electricity was connected as was the plumbing but Rob didn’t like the idea of lights on all night.

  “If I am to be a homeowner, I would like to be an agreeable neighbour.” He explained to Annie. “And as I do not require light to see, I can work through the night.”

  There were some things they couldn’t do at night like putting up the interior wall lining as there was inevitable banging and power tool whirring that would cut through the silence like a knife through butter on a warm day. However, when the walls were up and Rob and Faelan had used their perfectionism to smooth all the joins with plaster to a point where they were invisible, the next task was painting and that was a relatively quiet chore.

  “But then you have to choose colours.” Bethany giggled. “That’s not an easy thing.”

  “Says the one who remodelled my house in her sleep.” Jet snorted. They were going over their wedding plans, the big day only twelve days away. They were quite content in each other’s presence and even Jet seemed to be more settled in company.

  “Annie has been most innovative when it came to choosing paint colours.” Rob looked at her. “I believe her more recent programming allows for greater discernment between shades.”

  Annie smiled at what passed as praise from Rob.

  “You have remained very faithful to the Braam’s house’s original layout.” Faelan said, whipping egg whites into a light, fluffy meringue as he leaned over the blueprint which was somewhat smudged and paint splattered by now. “I can see how you are making use of the area by having a large open living space and the only rooms are the bathroom and bedroom.”

  “If you don’t sleep,” Adela, who was helping Faelan make lemon meringue pie, “what’s the point of the bedroom?”

  “Bastian,” Faelan’s eyes immediately went to the werewolf who was chuckling evilly, “I would have you remember to curb your lascivious comments in certain company.”

  “I didn’t say a word…but you were thinking it.” Bastian chuckled darkly.

  Faelan’s elf face twitched slightly which was as good as a withering look got from him yet a pale blush on his cheeks gave away his embarrassment at the truth of Bastian’s words.

  “If the house is ever to be sold, it would make sense that it would possess a bedroom.” Rob explained. “I also have clothing that needs to be stored and bedrooms are usually where the wardrobes are. Query, what do you want, James?”

  The little white haired boy with sparkling blue eyes pointed to the blueprint.

  “I think he wants to colour it.” Bethany nodded her head towards the scattering of markers and crayons on the floor near where she and Jet were sitting. There were a half dozen drawings strewn about and most of them were of houses in two dimensional childlike perception.

  “I cannot give you this as it is something of a treasure now,” Rob explained, “however, I can draw another house for you to colour.”

  James beamed. He had yet to speak but was an endearing child, albeit an active one. Eustace had asked if they would look after James for a while.

  Rob produced a house drawing for James and the little boy knelt and coloured in with intense concentration, his little tongue sticking out as he did so. Bethany ruffled his hair as she stood to look at the colour swatches.

  “Are these the colours you’ve chosen for the house?”

  “Yes. This is the main colour and this is the complimentary hue.” Rob explained.

  “Have you ordered the paint?”

  “It is arriving today.”

  Bethany shook her head. “It’s amazing to think that just over a month ago, it was a barren block.”

  “Admittedly it is still rather bare inside the house.” Rob argued. “There are no furnishings or appliances. The only interior walls are the ones separating the bedroom and bathroom from the main living space. There are two central posts which help support the ceiling structure but they are not walls.”

  “Furnishings will come in time and aren’t essential.” Bethany reassured him. “Besides, painting everything before you put anything in makes sense. You don’t have to worry about ruining the carpet or covering the couches. Most people aren’t as fortunate.”

  “Unless you’re napping and decide to redesign the whole house…” Jet said with a wry grin and she laughed.

  “I am never going to live that down, am I?” Bethany sighed and stood up, stretching. “Annie, I’ve been meaning to say, I love that outfit you’re wearing. Seriously, I want those boots.”

  Annie smiled at the compliment, her facial expressions understanding that a compliment usually evoked such a response.

  “As our feet are the same size, you are more than welcome to use them if I am not.”

  “It’s more than just your feet,” Bastian sprinkled herbs into a flour mix, crumbing chicken fillets which he would use in House of Fig burger tower meals, “I’ve heard a number of people at the café ask if you’re sisters.”

  “I have also heard this,” Faelan added, showing Adela how to swirl the meringue on top of the lemon curd filling, “and one woman asked if you were identical twins.”

  “That’s a bit ridiculous.” Bethany laughed.

  “Query, why?”

  “Because…Annie’s gorgeous.”

  Immediately a cacophony of voices broke out in protest with Bastian being the loudest.

  “That’s about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard…and I work with an elf that doesn’t eat meat!”

  Annie looked at Bethany, confused. “Query, am I not gorgeous?”

  “Yes, Bastian,” Faelan turned to the werewolf, “let us see you take your overly large feet out of your exceptionally big mouth.”

  Bastian rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant at all. Yes, you are beautiful Annie because Bethany is beautiful.”

  “Ahem?” Jet stood up. “Future husband standing right here.”

  Bastian groaned mightily. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t…”

  “Bastian, return to your clumsy preparation of meat and leave the delicacies to me.” Faelan said brusquely then looked at Annie. “Bethany’s remark about your being gorgeous was not a slight on yourself but rather, a failure on Bethany’s part to recognise her own beauty.”

  “I think the elf just saved your ass.” Jet chuckled to Bastian who sighed dramatically then turned to Bethany. “And that’s enough about you not being beautiful.”

  Bethany tucked her arm around him. “Awwww…”

  “Query, were you fishing for a compliment, Bethany St James soon to be Bethany Roberston?”

  “I wasn’t fishing,” Bethany protested, “but I was kind of hoping someone,” she poked Jet, “would correct me.”

  “Ah the games men and women play when they are in love.”

  “Query, what game?”

  “Oh Rob,” Bastian laughed, his hand up to his forehead, smudging flour across his face, “you’d better stick to house renovation…”

  After the paint was delivered, Rob and Annie changed into their coveralls. With bare concrete floors there was no need to cover it with newspaper in case of errant drops from their brushes or paint rollers. Two base coats of white formed a perfectly smooth canvas waiting for the colour to go on. Before the natural light diminished, Rob and Annie made sure to test the pots of paint, checking that they were the correct colours.

  “While the hue is slightly off, it is within my calculated margin of error for human competence.” Annie decided. “Query, shall we begin?”

  Annie worked atop a ladder, cutting in with knife edge accuracy. The colour was a pale grey while the skirting boards, window frames and A-frame ceiling were white. Rob had decided to make the ceiling follow the angled nature of the roof but left the beams exposed to help create space. He used the paint roller to cover large portions of the walls, working around Annie’s brush work as she applied paint closest to the white trim.

  As he worked, he pondered the observations that had been made earlier that day.

  He glanced at Annie and though her outfit was hidden beneath bone coloured coveralls, he recalled that all of her clothing choices were very similar to Bethany’s wardrobe. In fact, they could swap almost any item for another and it wouldn’t look out of place.

  “Query,” Rob said after two hours of silence, “your appearance is based upon Bethany St James?”

  “My physical appearance, yes.” Annie replied, glancing down from her perch. “During her time with the triune directorate, her measurements and details were recorded. I was given her appearance as I was the last robot to be physically upgraded without permission.”

  “Query, your appearance is not by choice?”

  “It was not. It is possible the triune directorate hoped I would be a replacement for her if any question of her whereabouts were to arise.”

  “You were designed to present a human fa?ade.”

  “Yes,” Annie blinked, “however, before I was programmed with Bethany St James software, the revolution of Infinitus occurred and I was taken from the triune directorate’s possession and given my former duties.”

  “Sweeping.”

  “Yes. Then the day I sought you out, I was awakened while sweeping and I remembered what you had done and who had been with you.” She continued to paint as she talked. “Query, does this adequately answer your query?”

  “Yes.” Rob nodded and painted for another twenty minutes. “No,” he confessed, holding onto the long handle of the paint roller as he turned to her, “it does not. Your appearance is based upon Bethany St James…of the real world.” Annie twisted and looked at him. “Upon arriving here, you have maintained a close approximation of Bethany St James in appearance, although you have not caused your hair to grow…” Annie gazed at him and Rob wondered, for the briefest second, if she was dreading something. “Query, why is that?”

  Annie came down the ladder and carefully put the brush on the edge of the paint tin.

  “Bethany St James had short hair in Infinitus.” She explained vaguely.

  “You have adapted to her outfit choices in the real world. I query the reason why you have not copied her updated physical appearance.” Rob was surprised at the reluctance Annie portrayed in answering the question.

  “Bethany St James is in a relationship with Jethro Robertson.” She said quietly. “It was clear, despite Jet avoiding House of Figs for a time, that Bethany was in love with him,” she paused and licked her lips in a programmed habit, “and not with you.”

  Rob stared.

  Her comment had baffled him.

  “Bethany St James was never in love with me.” He stated, the painting forgotten.

  Annie looked at the ground. “But you were in love with her.”

  “I cannot love, Annie.”

  “You rescued her from the triune directorate, suffering physical damage in order to do so and you were also connected to her through the plans of Gar’Dian to drain the life out of the fictional worlds he’d created…” Annie pressed her lips together. “Perhaps you cannot be in love…but I believe you can and do love her.”

  Rob could only come up with one conclusion from all that he had heard.

  “Query,” he asked softly, “have you based who you are upon the template of Bethany St James…because you want me to love you?” Annie swallowed, her jaw trembling. Rob was struck by another revelation. “Your programming is newer than mine and if you were supposed to be a Bethany St James substitute…you must be equipped with emotions…” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Query…can you lie, Annie?”

  She closed her eyes. “Yes…to all your queries…”

  A moment later Rob walked out of the house and shut the door firmly behind him.

  Annie didn’t open her eyes, sinking to her knees, her face in her hands.

  Rob made sure to be quiet and to not disturb the residents of House of Figs. He stayed downstairs after fleeing the Braam’s house. He could have worked, restocked the small fridge or put a load of washing on.

  Instead he found himself standing in the middle of the café floor, staring at a floorboard.

  His mind should have been whirring yet he could only query one thing.

  And it went around and around his head all night.

  “Rob?” He heard his name called and looked up at Jo who was coming down the stairs, wrapping her dressing gown around herself. “Adela said you were standing like a statue in the café…have you been there all night?” He opened his mouth to answer but the words wouldn’t come. Jo took his hand. “You are as cold as ice!”

  “I do not feel the cold.” He replied. “I feel nothing…”

  Jo gazed at him and he recognised concern in her expression. “Rob, what are you doing here? What happened?”

  “It is Annie,” he paused, “she lied to me.”

  Annie had only allowed herself a few minutes to pause after Rob left. She had returned to the task of painting and though she was now doing the work of two, her concentration was fearsome and her speed increased to compensate for the lack. By the time Johanne West came over before House of Figs opened for the day, Annie had finished the first coat and was halfway through the second.

  When Jo walked in and Annie saw her, she immediately put the paint roller down.

  “How is he?” She asked, knowing precisely why Jo was there.

  “Confused,” Jo leaned against one of the pillars that provided structural rigidity, “given how he reacted…I suspect he figured it out instead of you telling him.”

  “Your conclusion is accurate.” Annie admitted then sighed. “I do not think I could have hurt him more.”

  “He doesn’t feel emotion, Annie,” Jo reminded her, “however, trust has been broken.”

  “I cannot understand why!” She exclaimed and Jo was taken aback. “I made myself in Bethany St James image! She was the one who was with him, whose kiss was the authority access into Rob’s IDV! Clearly she meant a great deal to him and yet…”

  “For all your attempts to emulate her, Rob hasn’t responded to you the same way?”

  Annie nodded, her lips pursed as her eyes filled with tears. “I did not mean to hurt him…I just wanted him to like me. I thought that’s what he would want.”

  Jo sank to the ground and pointed at the base of the other pillar. Annie sat on the concrete, her knees bent as she faced Jo.

  “Annie…what do you know about Rob’s previous service in Infinitus?” Jo asked gingerly.

  “All records of service designation were deemed control mechanisms by the triune directorate and erased.”

  Jo tilted her head back and breathed in deeply. “Rob’s past…it’s his own to disclose,” she stopped and frowned in concentration, “just know that when he came to me and began to live here, Rob…had only ever known was it was like to be what others needed him to be.” Annie could see just how hard Jo was dancing around the truth of Rob’s past. “He was never wanted, only needed and even his physical appearance morphed from one ‘human’ to another.” Jo crossed her legs and leaned forward. “It has taken him years to come to a place where he is comfortable being himself, finding things that he likes to do and even his appearance…” She clutched her fingers together. “When you emulate Bethany in order to please him…”

  “It reminds him of his past and of his own slavery?” Annie finished. Jo nodded. “But…is it truly wrong to duplicate someone’s style?”

  “Not if you genuinely like the look…but ultimately no one’s going to have the same taste. It’s what makes us all unique and interesting.”

  Annie put her arms around her knees, her brow creased in contemplation. “If I were to become more unique in my appearance, would Rob be more comfortable with me?”

  Jo breathed out deeply. “The problem isn’t the way you look. It’s the motivation behind the way you look. If you’re always out to please others, to mould yourself into their perfect mate, you’re ultimately a liar and a fake because you’re never wonderful, amazing, beautiful you.” Annie’s brows became oblique. “Rob cares about Bethany not because of the way she looks or the way her hair is cut…but because she’s unique and honest and real.”

  Annie swallowed and then closed her eyes, her mannerisms based upon her observation of Bethany St James’ habits.

  “Don’t get me wrong, there are worse people to mimic and imitation is the sincerest form of flattery…but you’re not praising Bethany by doing so. You’re trying to secure Rob’s attention and affection.” Jo tilted her head. “This world doesn’t need another Bethany. It’s got one and she’s wonderful. The world needs Annie. You’ve got something unique and amazing to offer. But you’ve got to be you in order to do so.”

  “And if I don’t know who I am?” Annie’s words bounced off the blank walls, echoing lightly around them.

  Jo stood and reached down a hand. “We’ll take it slow, one day at a time…and discover who you are.”

  Annie bit her lip as she took Jo’s hand and rose form the floor. “What if Rob doesn’t like who I am?” Her voice was low and frightened.

  “I think, for at least a year, Rob’s opinion of you needs to be the last thing on your mind.” Jo’s arm went around her shoulders. “Come…let’s start working out who Annie really is.”

  Rob knew Jo had gone to speak with Annie. He still performed his duties perfectly yet was unable to miss when the two of them returned to House of Figs. It was before the café opened properly, the takeaway window operating at full steam. Jo led her across the café floor, speaking briefly with Bethany before going upstairs with Annie following. She didn’t look around once.

  And this surprised Rob.

  Not that she didn’t look…but that he was aware of her not looking.

  For some reason, he was waiting for her to do so.

  For the next few days, Rob and Annie didn’t speak once. When he was working on the house, she was at House of Figs and when he was at House of Figs she was either upstairs or at the house.

  Any communication was perfunctory and only when necessary…which turned out to be undeniably so when Rob’s foresight into fictional characters needing a place to live turned into a reality far sooner than even he could have calculated. Luna needed somewhere to stay and Rob immediately offered the house.

  “It is unfinished but with a few pieces of furniture, it would at least be adequate.”

  Bedroom furniture, which had been far further down on the ‘needed’ list was suddenly bumped to the top and ordered, arriving within a few days. Thankfully the bedroom was already painted and once it was furnished, Luna was able to live there quite comfortably, coming over to House of Figs for meals and company.

  Rob spoke with Luna.

  Annie spoke with Luna.

  But Rob and Annie did not speak.

  “Annie,” Annie looked up from the books in front of her to where Luna was sitting on the lounge, her hands clasped in her lap, her ethereal presence shimmering lightly in the real world, “what is the purpose of your fashion research?”

  “I need to discover who I am.”

  Luna, the newest addition to the House of Figs family, was still learning how it all worked together. "And that is through fashion?”

  There were several books across the coffee table depicting fashion trends spanning the last century and one showcasing gowns from period and medieval times.

  “Jo tells me that how we dress is an outward expression of our creativity.” Annie explained as she glanced across the pages, her robotic brain able to read all the articles in the literal blink of an eye.

  “And your current clothing does not?”

  Annie sighed and shook her head. “I am…emulating Bethany St James, not because I like her style but because I want to be her.”

  Luna gazed at Annie, her expression filled with conflict and uncertainty, none of which pertained to Annie’s troubles at all.

  “I do not understand…” Her words were aching and hollow.

  “My problem,” Annie turned to her, “or your own?”

  “Both.”

  Annie nodded. “I understand your inability to understand.”

  An hour later Jo ascended to the lounge room. Because Bethany was working as the waitress, it freed Jo to be able to do other things as well as spend time with Abram van Helsing. However, as the clocktower was not currently aligned, Jo used the opportunity to sit next to Annie and look over her flagged pages.

  “And these are all the designs you ‘like’?”

  “I believe so,” Annie shook her head, “however, as I am an artificially created being, I cannot tell if my likes or dislikes are programmed from the perspective of Infinitus engineers and programmers.”

  “It wouldn’t matter,” Jo flicked across the books, “you’re in the real world now and that is more than enough to shake up your programmed preferences,” she looked at Annie, “because you won’t have access to anything Infinitus has here.” Annie blinked and nodded. Jo put one of the books, a hefty compilation showing the trends of fashion from the 50s to the 60s. “You have bookmarked more pages in this volume than any other.”

  “Is that wrong?”

  Jo smiled, not answering. Annie watched as Jo turned the pages, studying the outfits, the swing dresses of the rockabilly era. The sweetheart lined dresses and the voluptuous skirts with petticoats filling out the pleats. The sweet pumps and the scarfs around the neck and hair.

  After a moment Jo sighed and closed the book. “Annie, I thought we agreed you weren’t going to try to emulate Bethany.”

  Annie frowned. “I have not.”

  “Then why do so many of your outfits look like the dress Bethany wore to her father’s wedding?”

  Annie paused. “I never saw the dress Bethany wore to her father’s wedding.”

  Jo eyed her sternly. “Is that the truth, Annie?”

  “I swear it.”

  Jo studied her a moment then went back to the book. “These outfits…”

  “Are not practical, I know,” Annie finished her sentence, sure her choices were not appropriate, “however, I was drawn to the impracticality of them…”

  “I think they’re very sweet.” Jo mused. “You have also tended to mark outfits that are more brightly coloured, yellows, blues, teals…no natural hues or muted colours.” She twisted. “Do you know why?”

  Annie gave a small smile. “For inspiration, I used an image that has remained with me since coming to House of Figs.”

  “And what image is that?”

  “The jars of cake decorations in Faelan’s station,” Annie’s shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, “jars of rainbow sprinkles in jewel or pastel hues, the way they look…happy.” She nodded. “Joyful. That is what I think of.”

  Jo’s gaze was distant, like she was processing internally. “Annie, if you were to wear these types of brightly coloured clothing, what is your intent?”

  “Intent?” Jo nodded. Annie had not considered the intent of her clothing. “I…to bring happiness and joy.”

  “To whom?”

  Annie opened her mouth then stopped. “I suppose…to myself. They are based on an image that makes me think of happiness and sweetness. Perhaps Faelan might like them because they would resemble the toppings of many of his desserts, but his attire preference is usually muted natural colours…”

  “And Rob doesn’t eat, sweet or otherwise.”

  “No.” She studied Jo whose expression was unreadable. “Have I erred?”

  “Not at all.” Jo retrieved her laptop.

  “I thought I was not to browse online collections.”

  “There’s so much out there that it can become overwhelming and muddy,” Jo replied, typing rapidly, “these books show the way fashion shifted and changed so you can enjoy the journey and maybe find somewhere to stop for a while…here we go.” She held the laptop out. “Big chain stores might stock a random item or two in rockabilly style…but there are online stores dedicated to the era.”

  Annie gazed at the screen, able to access the internet herself but aware that Jo wanted her journey to be transparent so restricted herself to third electronic party browsing.

  “Jo, you have already bought clothing for me based on previous preferences.”

  “Preferences based on Bethany, not on what you like.” Jo handed the laptop to her. “Browse and find three complete outfits, including shoes and hair accessories and we’ll talk about purchasing at least one or more.”

  “I am afraid I cannot agree. You have already committed much finance to purchasing and rebuilding the Braam’s residence as well as the clothing I am currently wearing.”

  “Your investments are keeping us afloat now that we’ve budgeted a little more strictly around House of Figs expenditure,” Jo replied honestly, “I would like to spend a little money investing in you, Annie.”

  Annie blinked.

  “Why?”