Artificial Heart

19

Prisha couldn't sleep that night, staring up at the ceiling, hands pressed to her heart. She could smell him all over her. She could still feel him inside her. Her body was burning faintly. She didn't want to forget the night, nor the feelings, too quickly.

She wanted to remember them forever.

It was hardly any time at all before the room began to brighten. Prisha sat up, feeling both energised and drained. Everything felt surreal as she began the new day. It was like she was simply moving through the motions, not really feeling anything. She felt hollow, like she'd left her heart and mind up in the stars with Alf, leaving only a shell behind.

'He will be back,' she told herself.

She stood by the window as she ate her breakfast, gazing into the grey, thinking of the stars twinkling beyond, of Alf's ship waiting amid them. It had only been a few hours and he was already gone long enough. It hurt her chest. She shouldn't have done that. She shouldn't have been intimate with him.

Now, things were going to be harder.

She was much more than attached. She was in an actual relationship. A long distance one. Prisha snorted at the thought, almost choking on her Wheetbix. She laughed bitterly. She wondered what her sister would say. She suddenly wondered what those important people with the chip would think. Especially Black Moustache who always studied her like cells in a petri dish. How would he look at her now?

Her eyes widened. Putting down her bowl, she hurried over to the television and switched it on. She flicked through several early morning news reports, sitting on the edge of her couch, but nothing about the event was covered. Prisha leaned back into her seat, clutching at her chest.

The next few days went by as blurry and empty as the first. She ate. She slept. She worked. She exercised. There was not a single collapse and only a few bouts of dizziness. Considering how depressed she was, she was surprisingly energised. The nights were difficult, though. Once she fell asleep it was good—she slept long and hard—but it was falling asleep that was the problem.

Every night she would have her phone in her hand, looking at Alf's pictures, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling, until his face burned upon her brain. Sometimes she would fall asleep with it still clutched tightly in her fist.

During the day, it didn't leave her side, tucked away in her pocket, warm against her thigh. Somehow, having his pictures close and accessible made the real him seem closer too. Like he was there with her, domesticated and making breakfast in the next room. She could imagine it now, his half-organic, half-robot form strolling around the house.

Prisha chuckled tearfully.

She'd even chosen one of his photos as her laptop background, much to her own chagrin. Daring and stupid, she knew. But she couldn't help it. He was sitting at his controls, turned around to face her, a big hand still clutching the lever. Earth was blurred in the background.

She couldn't stop staring at the small crease across the bridge of his nose, how his red eye glowed. His dark eye drilled as deeply into her as it did in real life. She would sometimes find herself sitting and staring at it between clients until her back ached and her arse turned hard against the seat and the tears crowded her eyes.

As often as she could, she would visit the park, swinging on the swing when she was alone, watching the kids play when she wasn't, her eyes always drifting back to that one spot. The night was the best time, of course, but there was no flattened grass, no shimmering air, no prickle at the back of her neck.

A waste of time. She would know.

No matter how much she tried, she couldn't get him out of her mind. And why shouldn't she? As fantastical and impossible and astonishing as it all was. She'd seen him four times now and as much as her real life felt unreal, so did her life with Alf. It was like she was drifting in limbo, not quite alive, not quite dead. Her brain—or perhaps it was her heart?—didn't seem to be handling it very well.