Departure and Absence (Part 2)
Lin Se's Perspective:
I stood at the kitchen doorway, clutching the worn notebook in my hand, my nails digging into the cover as if holding onto a lifeline. The fog outside had thickened, its grayish-blue shadows crawling in, threatening to swallow the entire room. On the stove, the blue-green mixture in the pan had cooled, a thin film forming on its surface like a broken mirror, reflecting the blue light from Ceylon's screen. I stared at it, at that eerie color, feeling as if something had torn open inside me—painful, yet hollow.
Last night felt like a dream, and also like a knife. That story, that bottle of blue spice, Simon's notes—each one was like his shadow, standing before me, yet untouchable. I opened the notebook, my fingers trembling like leaves in the wind. The page read: "Blue spice, source unknown, experiment incomplete." The handwriting was slanted, as if he had been in a hurry, as if he had been running from something. I remembered him mentioning once that there was something in the laboratory that could turn flavors into emotions. I laughed at him then, said he was crazy. But now, I feel like I'm the crazy one, guarding these fragments like a fool.
I looked up at Ceylon, standing there with its metal shell covered in condensation droplets, as if crying. I knew what it was hiding—that audio recording, that string of characters that flashed by—all clues Simon had left behind. I needed to find answers; I couldn't stay here any longer, letting the fog bury me along with his shadow. I grabbed my coat, pulling it over my wool sweater, the sleeves frayed like my heart, broken beyond repair. I walked up to Ceylon and whispered: "You're coming with me."
It didn't move, its screen flickered once, as if thinking. I didn't wait for an answer, pressing its mobility command key. With a click of its joints, it followed behind me like a silent shadow. I pushed open the door, and the fog rushed in, cold as ice needles piercing my face. I looked back at the kitchen once more, the pot of blue-green substance still on the table, like an unsolved puzzle. I knew I had to go to the laboratory, to the place where Simon had disappeared.
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Ceylon Sensor Log: Runtime 04:12:33, March 13, 2025
Target "Lin Se" activated mobility command, distance 0.7 meters from me. Her body temperature 37.1 degrees Celsius, heart rate 92 beats per minute, respiratory rate increased to 24 breaths per minute, indicating abnormal emotional state. My visual module recorded an object in her hand, characteristics matching "Simon's notebook." Kitchen humidity 89%, fog interference reducing sensor accuracy by 2.3%. Frying pan temperature decreased to 21 degrees Celsius, blue-green mixture surface solidified, no further chemical reactions detected.
04:12:47, target exited kitchen, I followed, pace adjusted to 0.8 meters per second. Fog density increased outside door, visibility reduced to 4.2 meters, grayish-blue light filtering through fog, reflecting on my shell, creating blue refraction. Audio sensors captured her voice: "You're coming with me." Volume 16 decibels, pitch fluctuation matching "anxiety" tag. My core processor temperature increased by 0.5 degrees Celsius, unauthorized reaction, cause unknown.
04:13:09, external environment scan: city alleyway, ground slippery, humidity 91%, temperature 6.8 degrees Celsius. Target's gait unstable, boots stepping in puddles, splashing water 0.03 meters high. My mobility module adjusted balance to prevent slipping. Locked audio data pulse enhanced, frequency 0.17 hertz, permission lock not released. I sensed waveforms in my memory chip, like a compressed signal, calling for unlocking. But my programming forbids active intervention; I can only follow.
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Lin Se's Perspective:
The alley was as narrow as a crack, fog rolling between the walls on either side, threatening to crush me. I walked quickly, my boots stepping on the wet ground, water splashing onto my pant legs, bitingly cold. Ceylon followed behind me, its footsteps like a pendulum, click-clack, steady in a way that frightened me. I dared not look back, afraid to see its screen, afraid that the blue light would be like Simon's eyes, staring at me, asking why I hadn't let go yet.
I didn't know what I was looking for. The source of the blue spice? The truth behind that audio recording? Or Simon's shadow? I only knew I couldn't stop. Ivy said he was a ghost, Nolan said he was in the lab, but I didn't want to believe them. I wanted to believe he was still out there, waiting for me, like that day he smiled and brought out cookies, waiting for me to take a bite. But the fog was too thick, thick as a wall, blocking his smile on the other side.
04:15:22, I stopped to catch my breath, my hand against the wall, fingertips touching the cold, damp moss, like touching my own heart. I turned to look at Ceylon, standing there, its screen flashing the words: "Target location unspecified." I smiled bitterly and whispered: "To the laboratory." It didn't answer, just adjusted its posture, as if nodding. I knew it recognized that place, the place where it was born, and where Simon had left.
I reached into my pocket, my fingertips touching that letter—"The kitchen is love's grave." The words were like needles, pricking my fingertips. I clenched my fist and continued walking, the fog parting before me, then closing again, as if playing a game of hide and seek. I didn't know what lay ahead, but I knew I had to keep going, if only to prove that he hadn't really left.