Bigga froze on the spot, as though going cold from head to toe. She felt an urge to shake out of Harold’s hold, but her body wouldn’t budge.
No. What do I do? I’m going to get arrested. No…!
“I’m not going to hurt you, Bigga.” He parted his handsome lips in a whisper. “Please, listen to me. How are you related to Clara Lie? Why did she come to you for help?”
Bigga shook her head in a panic. She should have never implanted Lie with that muscle control chip in the first place. Her cousin had asked her for help because she wanted to become a prima ballerina, and Bigga hadn’t been able to turn her down, operating on her under her father’s nose. But now Lie was experiencing dangerous side effects and being chased by the police because of what Bigga had done.
It’s all my fault. I just wanted to help my cousin. I wanted experience, to become a bio-hacker just a bit sooner—even though I knew deep down I was doing something wrong. It’s been eating away at me this whole time.
She felt miserable and frustrated, knowing that this was all she was good for. If only she had faced her true feelings before jumping headfirst into operating on Lie; then she might have avoided landing in this situation.
“Bigga, I promise you that if you tell me the truth, you won’t have to lose anything.”
Harold peered into her face. His closeness, coupled with the concern that made her mind feel like it might split in half, made her almost choke up. She had to fool him and hurry to Lie’s side. Once the suppressant wore off, her cousin could be in a dangerous state.
But her mind was blank. She looked back into his eyes. Their color reminded her of the Kautokeino River at the height of winter. His lashes were the same pretty blond as his hair.
He was like the moon shining brilliantly in the night sky, serving as a guidepost.
“Please, don’t torment yourself any longer. You’re allowed to follow your heart.”
At that moment, Harold read Bigga’s heart, peering into depths that no one else knew of. That was probably the moment that pulled her in.
I want to know more about him, she’d thought.
“Did you figure out how I really felt with your powers of observation?”
By the time Bigga finished reminiscing, the stew in her bowl was empty. She put down the spoon as Harold, sitting across from her, dropped his eyes in shame.
“I’m sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable.”
“Oh, no! I know this is what you’re good at.” She really didn’t feel uncomfortable about it. Quite the contrary. “Having someone see through it all…made me happy, somehow. Um, I didn’t know it at the time, but I think I wanted someone to notice.”
Bigga had started questioning the luddite way of life after her mother’s rejection of technology had led her to die from an incurable disease. But she hadn’t been able to share these feelings with anyone. Not her father, nor her friends. Her situation just didn’t allow for it. She grew older and set off down the path of a bio-hacker, but it kept tormenting her. Something always felt off.
Harold was the first one to notice that about her.
“I realize you only did it because it was your job, of course.” She felt oddly self-conscious all of a sudden and gulped down her soda quickly. “Sorry, I started talking about weird things out of nowhere…”
“Not at all. If what I said helped you somehow, nothing could make me happier.”
“It helped me a lot.” She couldn’t look Harold in the face. “Hmm, the stew’s delicious, isn’t it? It’s great!”
“Yes, very.”
She felt like she’d run her mouth a lot but somehow had failed to mention what mattered.
How could she tell him she wanted to know why things were so awkward between him and Echika? Wouldn’t that be sticking her nose where it didn’t belong?
The chef walked over a moment later, prompting Bigga and Harold to rise from their seats and thank him for the meal. By the time they left the restaurant, it was past nine PM. The lounge was quiet and the check-in counter unmanned. The chairs lined near the wall had a layer of dust on them.
“Bigga, is your room next to Investigator Gardener’s?”
“Yes. You’re in his room, right?” Gardener’s room had a single bed, meaning Harold would need to sleep standing up. “We should have gotten another room after all.”
“Sleeping without a bed isn’t an issue for us.” She knew that logically, of course, but he was suffering from a malfunction as it was, so she wished he would handle himself more carefully. “Make sure to keep warm when you sleep, too. I had fun talking to you for the first time in a long while.”
His smile was as perfect as ever, but it still seemed to be missing something.
“Me too.” Bigga smiled back, but the question she was neglecting to ask still hung in her thoughts. “Umm, Harold?”
She nearly posed it to him, only to be stopped by her doubts. “Um…”
As she faltered, a Your Forma notification popped up in her field of vision.
<I’m in the hotel parking lot right now. Can we talk for a bit?>
Bigga jolted for some reason. It was from Hansa. They still hadn’t talked things out and resolved the argument they’d had back at Banfield’s hotel. She’d sent him a message before the meeting, but she wasn’t expecting a response.
“What’s wrong, Bigga?”
“Nothing.” Somehow, she managed to change her mind. “Um, Hansa contacted me. Sorry, could you go back to your room without me?”
Cutting off her conversation with Harold, she hurried to the entrance. As she did, relief flooded over her—if their conversation had gone on any longer, she definitely wouldn’t have been able to keep herself from asking.
Hansa’s jeep was idling inconspicuously in a section of the snowy parking lot.
“I didn’t think you’d still be in Enontekiö. I was sure you’d go home.”
Bigga settled into the passenger’s seat, with Hansa sitting awkwardly in the driver’s seat. The car stereo was playing a ballad that had been popular some years before. The deep tones of the piano mingled with the sound of the heater blowing on the back seat.