The memorywalking chamber was an entirely holographic room, which was intuitive to link into and access the recollection Corai had me flag. It was a strange feeling to have my thoughts stripped away, cast back to memories of another place and time. I could sense the thoughts ping-ponging around in her mind, distinctly different from my own, and the knowledge she'd had in that moment at the edges of my psyche. I felt a little weird about inhabiting her brain, especially when it was a lot less alien than I expected.

The Elusian was filled with an unspeakable sadness. I allowed myself to relax deeper into her consciousness, to let her thoughts swallow my own. The seismology reports overlaid on her vision told a story the locals wouldn't understand. She could see elegant stone villas, pretty and picturesque, that tourists loved to frequent; the simplicity and quaintness made her fond of their little city. The humans had so little, but by the same token, she'd watched them build all of this. Soon, it would be gone—their lives, gone.

I inhaled with a bit of reverence, realizing that I was looking out at an ancient city that no longer existed. Seismology. Some kind of disaster is coming…Pompeii? Oh no. The name feels right.

The volcanic soil had given them a bounty of harvests. Corai smiled as she remembered quietly warping away a bottle of wine, a big professional no-no. She'd been disgusted—of course she had, with her higher sensibilities and the Elusians' formulaic brewing to tickle the taste buds. She watched the conversations in their marketplaces and heard their concerns…she longed to be like them. To speak to them, so much that it burned.

The Watcher shook the thought out of her head, remembering how dependent their last creations had become. Humanity would suffer long-term if she influenced them, and the last thing she wanted to do was to curse them to be like her people. She knew.

Corai twirled a pendant around her neck, one I'd never seen her wear in the modern day. She thought back on the plays she'd watched through nanobot cameras. Her heart had skipped at the gladiator fights and chariot races she'd looked down on from overhead, through extreme magnification. The slices of swords and the spilling of blood was horrifying, yet so visceral—teetering on the edge of death with each step. Humans were connected to their animal nature, and that…it seemed wonderful.

Hot tears rolled down Corai's face, and she could sense the stares of the other Watchers. "Perhaps we could send some kind of warning. It wouldn't stop them from progressing on their own. It would just keep what they built."

"The primitive fools worship their gods, thinking they hold the strings of their world," a coworker scoffed. "The Romans think themselves civilized rulers, but marching their little armies around; this isn't what we hoped humans would be capable of. They need to learn some basic lessons."

Anger burned in Corai's chest, worming inward. She didn't know if she hated her people, or she hated herself for her inaction. Perhaps it was just a responsibility for the project, since she oversaw it; her peers were right, of course. If an Elusian actually spoke to those humans below, the explanations wouldn't begin to be intelligible to them. That thought made her feel a bit crestfallen. What did she want out of the project?

No, I need to do my duties, Corai chided herself. I can't have my colleagues doubting me and removing me from the project. I can't lose the humans.

"I'm invested in the success of this project. They really have shown some potential over these last few thousand years." Corai turned around coldly, as the volcano rumbled behind her; the feelings receded to a deep, dark place in an instant. "I don't know if they can overcome the limitations of their dimension. However, after all of the time we've spent, it would be a shame to see our work go to waste."

Another researcher shrugged. "I like the little guys. You have to root for them. There's flashes of them being clever, but it's hard to see us being related. This city is gone: we should spend time on those who are not."

"We must document their failures. I wish to be alone. Please, leave me."

The coworkers warped back to their overhead research, and the hardened facade fell in an instant. Corai reached out through her network of nanobots, guiding them through the streets. The humans were celebrating the puffs of smoke from the activating volcano, the dark brown spout looming on the horizon. The warning signs were all there, but the fools didn't understand. She wanted to scream and swipe every nearby object to the ground. Instead, there was merely a slight tremor as her hand tightened.

Elusians were above such emotions. These humans would die in a few decades like every other one she watched, blurring into the obscure recesses of her brain-computer network; a forgotten memory, feelings dulled and reclaimed by time. Nothing lasted, and there was no sense in getting attached to them! Corai thumbed through her memories of the prior day, recalling how Vulcanalia—a festival to their deity, Vulcan—had seen devotees throwing fish into the fire as a sacrifice.

The humans feared the destruction of flames, and all of the preventable deaths she let happen. If Corai dwelled on it, it would sit atop her conscience like a mountainous volcano ready to burst inside of her. The real gods of their universe were indifferent to their pleas: a few scientists jotting notes. The Elusian inhaled, watching the column of fire, gas, and debris surge into the sky. There was the eruption—Pompeii's remaining time was in the minutes, and it was too late to outrun what would stir.

The weight of her despair felt as suffocating as the toxic fumes in the air for the unfortunate Romans, forcing me to push my own thoughts back to the front. Corai justified the Elusians' actions because she had to; she loved humans so much it's painful. Why would she do this to herself, to make herself watch this? How can she…feel that depth and not intervene, for fuck's sake?!

Corai sat alone in her spaceship, and watched the pyroclastic flow that followed: a billowing cloud of molten gas and rock that was the color of her skin. Multiple settlements were beset by the oncoming avalanche. It swept down at blinding speeds, killing the human inhabitants in an instant—boiling their fluids and encasing them in layers of ash. A sob rattled from her throat as she heard their screams, running in terror. A young couple, newly-wed, ran in terror from what they believed to be their gods' punishment. Futility: the cloud swallowed them.

Choking ash descended on Pompeii with the most fervor, even on those who had tried to escape; it clawed at their lungs, an asphyxiation that tightened her own chest too. The humans' faces were in so much pain. Their agony would be over for good in a few minutes: unbearable minutes that would mark the end of their existence. It would preserve them like an indictment of her failures, Corai knew. She turned away, weeping bitterly. It was then that her nanobots played in another cry: an infant, alone, in a burning building.

"No, no!" she murmured, seeing the distraught traces of her own reflection in the window. "The stone of that home is trapping the heat…it'll bake the child like a furnace. That can't be fair, it…"

Corai reached out beyond herself before she realized she had done it, feeling only the white-hot pain lancing her soul and snaking through her fingers. The child was warped into her arms, wailing and crying in anguish, puffy cheeks covered in soot. Her tears dripped onto the human infant's face as he shied away in fear. She waved her gray fingers, trying to soothe him, but only agitated him further. The noise—if her colleagues saw her, they would insist she dropped him back into the fire, where he would've died. She couldn't do that.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

This Watcher would and will never hurt humans, Corai promised herself, shaking with ragged hurt and determination. When you need me to protect you, I will come. Always.

"It's a miracle, little one. That's what they'll say." Corai warped the baby away to a distant field, giving him one last smile. "Goodbye."

And then, the human infant was gone. The Elusian knew she would be alone again for a long, long time.

The uploaded memory ended, thrusting me back into my own thoughts with abrupt force. I knelt on the ground, trying to process what I'd just seen and felt as if the emotions were my own. Corai…didn't just watch in unfeeling silence. She saved that baby long ago, despite it ultimately being a meaningless gesture for her; she never wanted us to die. She longed to connect with us and have us understand what her people were, to master our own world and…

"Estai, are you alright?" Sagua asked, as she entered the room now that my time had elapsed. It was her turn to witness this. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I struggled to find words, eyes blank and glassy. "I have. You need to just see this. I…I need to speak to Corai."

I sprinted out of the memorywalk room, realizing that I had misjudged the Elusian from day one. Corai wasn't perfect, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she did care and she wanted to help us. The Watcher looked almost afraid as I departed from the room, like she feared I might confront her for not doing enough. Mikri seemed confused by my shellshocked expression, though I couldn't manage any words to the Vascar. I flung my arms around Corai in a soul-affirming hug. The Elusian's stance relaxed, and her expression softened.

"Corai," I said mentally, unsure and fumbling with my words. "I've never been more wrong about anyone in my life than I was about you. You're a good creator, you know that?"

Corai drew a shuddering breath, the cracks in the dam barely holding. "I'm not. You were right—I could have done more. We were never there for you, and you suffered because of how we made your world. I let people say those things about you for millennia, I broke my promise a thousand times…"

"You're one person. You did a really brave thing helping me, and I didn't appreciate you enough." Tears rolled down my cheeks, still reeling from the emotions I'd felt in the simulation. "I was just…angry, at a person who…it was never your fault."

Corai stepped back, cradling my chin with a gentle hand and wiping a tear away with her other's thumb. "I've forgotten how to enjoy life, and to show that I care. I look at you, and I see everything that I wish Elusians could be. You're exactly what I want in my life, Estai."

"Me, specifically?"

The Elusian moved her palm onto my cheek, and pressed her forehead to mine; I could feel her warm breath on my upper lip. Her proximity made my heart rate quicken more than her touch already had, and I leaned into that closeness with intoxication bubbling in my chest like the fizziest champagne. She didn't smell like rusty bolts at all, instead having a light citrusy scent that made me smile and want to lean closer—what was I doing?! She was Corai, a million-year-old alien who…I'd be lucky to be in her orbit. She wasn't…interested, and I wasn't some creep who thought…

"Yes. You, Preston Myles Carter. I know exactly what I want," she answered.

The Elusian forcefully grabbed the back of my head and yanked me those last few inches, crashing our lips together. Desire rippled through me like a tsunami that had been restrained, and my hands latched onto her like a lifeline. Our bodies and mouths moved in a dizzying, synchronized dance for several seconds of bliss, before we parted much too soon. I stood there like an idiot, wanting more. It was then that I saw Sagua standing behind us, eyes extremely wide.

"Oh my God. Tell me I did not just see that," Sagua transmitted into my brain, while I stood there struggling to remember words. "You two, really?!"

I took a step back, hurrying over to Mikri for protection. "It just happened. Uh, sorry about that, I…"

The Vascar beeped with elation and grabbed my head like a tetherball, smushing it against his metal snout. I grunted with disgust and pushed him away from me, making an indignant face at the robot. Okay, what the fuck—I wasn't into Mikri like that! I stumbled backward, suddenly happy to run back to Sagua despite her judgment. What was he even…he didn't have attraction! Why would he go and make things really weird?

The Vascar gave a sad beep. "I saw that you liked when she did that. I wanted you to look at me like that. Did I do it wrong?"

"Mikri, kissing is an intimate gesture reserved for romantic partners," a still-flustered Sagua explained, while Corai smirked and pretended not to notice this discussion. "It means you love someone, and want to be physically close to them."

"I know! I love Preston more than anyone, except you, and our friendship means everything! We are close. Why does he…not want to include me? Am I not good enough?"

I gawked at the tin can. "Mikri, do you even understand the difference between romance and friendship?!"

"Romance is the overwhelming love for another person. We are romantic, unless you do not love me. I more than care about you!"

"You can love someone and just be friends. I love you, Mikri, but I'm…not reproductively inclined with you! Romance is physical, it's…physically coveting someone's body and…having desires about that. Stop making me explain this."

Sagua grimaced. "Romance is about an organic thinking another person has the qualities they would seek in a mate—it's largely chemical and primal. When you don't seek someone as a mate, you can still love them, but you're friends. I understand that the only bond a Vascar can have is a thinking bond, but humans can have sensual ones too. It's not a diss on you—attraction isn't a conscious choice."

Corai turned around, her eyes looking livelier and brighter than before. "That gesture does not mean what you think it means, Mikri. Estai deserves to have fulfillment, and I don't think you'd keep him from contentment. If you're happy with the bond you share now and don't wish for more, then there's nothing to be upset about."

"I…am sorry. I do not understand. I need time to calculate," the Vascar answered in a despondent voice.

I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, giving him a comforting hug. "I'm sorry, big guy, animals are weird, especially in the love department. I didn't mean to hurt you by, er, acting on my feelings. It was an in-the-moment thing that I wasn't expecting."

"I've just lived a life without passion and impulse for too long not to take a chance: to see if he felt it too. I've been around for too many years to waste time," Corai added.

I shifted on my feet awkwardly, not having seen that development coming at all. It might be good for Corai to act on spontaneous impulse and passion, rather than to be content with the glacial pace Watchers endured. I realized now that I'd have to handle my robot best friend rather delicately—not that I knew what was going to come next after this. With humanity's fate on the table, I couldn't let whatever roads I chose to pursue interfere with our mission.

As difficult as it might be, the Elusian and I were going to put these complicating feelings aside to get the job done with the Justiciary of Experimentation and our attempts to unravel the future.

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