Down for the Count, thirteenth part: Reject

by Deb H

Wednesday 03 October 3004

Fry talked to me yesterday morning.

Well, he talks to me every morning. And every night. Also afternoons, evenings, and twilight periods.

He talks to me all the time, in fact.

But I don't talk to him. Not really.

I don't really talk to anybody any more. I just don't like it.

Anyway, yesterday morning, Fry aksed me if I wanted to go in to work. I told him I didn't.

Fry and I are in charge of the clinic that we helped the mutants build on the planet Epsilon Eridani 4. That might sound like a worthwhile, important job that makes you feel good inside.

If it does to you, then by all means, have it. I don't think I want it any more.

And if being obscenely rich also appeals to you, why don't you go ahead and take my money too. I've kinda soured on that as well.

So when I told Fry I wasn't going in to work, he sat down on the side of the bed, next to where I was lying.

"Are... are you okay, Amy?" he aksed.

"Yeah," I answered. "Of course I am. I'm great."

"Oh."

There was a pause.

"Because, like, if there's something wrong with you, we can, you know, have a doctor look at you."

"Why?" I aksed him. "I wouldn't be able to return the favour."

"Amy, come on," he sighed.

"I still can't see, remember? Don't tell me you've forgotten about that. And they still don't know how to fix it."

"You haven't come to work since last Thursday. And... did you even get out of bed yesterday?"

"Who cares?"

"What do you mean, who cares?" he aksed. "I care. Of course I care. Everybody cares."

"Like who?"

"Like me."

"You said you already."

"Well, okay. There's also the doctors, and the nurses, and Bender, and the Professor, and Hermes, and Zoidberg, and BW, and Remi, and..."

"They all hate me now," I said. "Especially Remi."

"They don't hate you."

"Remi totally hates me. And the Turangas hate me. And all the mutants hate me. And everybody on Earth hates me. And everybody on Mars hates me. And everybody on Stardust hates me. So I've pretty much pissed off four planets."

I turned over.

"Amy..." Fry said.

I pulled the sheet over my head.

"Amy, listen," he said, pulling the sheet back down and holding my hand tightly.

I sighed. "What?"

"Amy... what happened to you?"

"You're aksing the question the wrong way around," I said. "You should be aksing, what happened to everybody else to make them hate me?"

"Amy..."

"Correct. I happened to them." I pulled my hand away and continued, "Look, Fry, don't play dumb. You act all full of stupidness, but you're, like, you have this great insight for stuff and... and junk. I mean, you know why they hate me. And... and it's the same reason you hate me."

"What? I don't hate you."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not, Amy. I –"

"You know exactly why you hate me. Because I killed the girl you love."

"Amy... you're the girl I love. Or... you were."

"See? I told you you're insightful."

"I... I don't... what?"

"See? You know. You know that everything has changed now. That you've changed. That I've changed. I'm... I'm not the person you love any more. That Amy is dead."

"Look, I –"

"She's dead, all right?" I shrieked, suddenly throwing off the sheets and sitting up. "She's gone! Dead and fucking buried! Just like Leela! I killed them both, all right? I killed the Leela you loved, and I killed the Amy you loved! You're stuck with this Amy now! You're stuck with the one that everybody hates and that just wants to stay here in bed forever so that nobody who hates her ever has to look at her again, because she sure as shit can't look at anybody who hates her! So just go to work already and keep the clinic running, okay! At least then, maybe there will be something good that came out of this piece of shit life that I have!"

I flopped onto the bed and curled up again. I also found a pillow to hold over my head.

"Fry, just... just go to work already, okay? Just... leave me alone."

I could feel him try to move the pillow out of the way. In response, I yanked it tighter over my head.

Then I felt a kiss on my hand.

He said, "All right, I'm going to work. I... I love you."

I heard the door hiss shut. But just before that, I heard a sniffle.

I haven't always been spiralling uncontrollably into the deep abyss of clinical depression. I used to be happy. Optimistic. Cheerful.

Also, annoying.

I know I used to piss Leela off when I was being chirpy like that. I've even seen it from the other side.

Well, sort of.

I'd had all those dreams, the ones where I was Leela. In a couple of them, there were times when I was talking to myself.

You know. I was talking to me, which was somebody else, but I was somebody else, only that somebody else was me. And the somebody that is normally me was somebody else, but it was me.

Anyway, there were a couple of times in those dreams where I, as Leela, was talking to Amy.

Especially the part when I called her from the boxing tournament. I remember feeling, in the dream, like I wanted to scream. The thought running through my mind at that moment was: That bitch is so fucking irritating.

And you know what? She was right. I was irritating sometimes.

But there is one thing I wasn't.

I wasn't a killer.

Hey, things change.

After we watched the video, the rest of the meeting with the Canopus 5 chief of police was more of the same: me trying to come up with reasons for them to arrest me, and Mr Rr and the chief trying to come up with new and different legalistic phrases to tell me to go away.

Eventually, I realised that I was not going to be successful, and I let them wrap up the meeting.

Fry and I walked back to the Leela, with Mr Rr alongside.

"So... um... Amy?" Fry aksed.

"Yeah?" I said.

"What do... what do you want to do now?"

"Go home," I replied. "Go home and take a bath. And then go to bed."

"I meant, like, with your life."

"Oh."

He said, "Look, I know you were pretty dedicated to this... arrest... thing. Do you want to, like, go somewhere and commit a crime?"

"What?!" I aksed him, incredulous.

"I'unno. I just thought, like, maybe you still wanted to go to prison."

"What the fuck is the matter with you, Fry?"

There was a pause. Then he said, "Well, what do you want to do, then?"

"I... I don't fucking know," I sighed.

We walked on a little further, but then Fry stopped. I only knew that because he was still holding my hand.

He said, "Well, um, thanks for all your help, Mr Rr."

"Not at all," Mr Rr responded. "Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you. Either of you."

"Um... right," I said. "Of course."

I released my hand from Fry's and held it out in the direction that seemed to correspond to Mr Rr's location. There was a brief moment before he shook my hand. I guessed that he had shook Fry's hand first.

"Come on," Fry said as he reached for my hand again. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah."

He flew me back home. He didn't seem to be in much of a mood to talk, which I was pleased about. I was definitely not in that kind of mood.

I mean, I wanted to know what exactly the video showed. I wanted to know what the camera thought happened.

But I didn't want to talk to Fry about it. Not yet.

We landed, and Fry led me upstairs to our bedroom.

"You still want a bath?" he aksed.

"Yeah."

"You want me to... um..."

"To what?"

"I don't know. Anything you want me to do?"

"Like what?"

"Anything," he said. "Fill up the tub for you? Get you another towel? I could run to the store and get you some Mr Bubble if you want."

"Mr Bubble? Why would I want that?"

"Well, then... what do you want?" he aksed me.

I closed my eyes and ran my hands through my hair.

"I don't want anything," I finally said. "Just leave me alone."

"Um... okay," he said. "Just, you know, shout if you want me."

"Yeah."

I knew the layout of our bathroom well enough to turn on the water on my own. I made the water as hot as I could stand.

There was one thing that I wanted, but I couldn't tell Fry. I wanted advice.

In particular, I wanted advice from Leela.

That was going to be hard to come by, of course. And not just because she was dead.

Ever since she died, I've been having the occasional dream about her. Especially in the first couple of weeks. She would listen to me explain whatever was happening to me at the time, and then she would give her opinion.

She usually seemed to give me good advice. I was just pretty sure that it was actually my subconscious.

But after Bender rescued me from the building collapse, I began having the other dreams, the ones where I was Leela.

Those ones didn't seem to have any specific correlation to what was happening in my life. They were just a series of episodes about Leela going out with a boxer.

Those ones just left me confused.

I mean, why was I dreaming about being Leela? Why was I dreaming about Leela going out with a girl?

For that matter, why was I dreaming about Leela going out with anyone other than Fry?

I had seen them over the years, the way they brought out the best in one another. It had become obvious to me that they were right for each other. So what was Jazenny doing in the middle?

Actually, who was Jazenny?

In one of the dreams, she said that she met me at a college fair. I had actually gone to a few high schools' college fairs while I was at Mars University, including two or three at New New York schools. Those schools had plenty of Neptunian students, but I couldn't remember meeting someone like Jazenny.

I could look her up online. Leela had found videos of her. If she was really a boxer, I could find them too.

But I was pretty certain what I would find. I would find no evidence of any such person. I would find that my subconscious had conjured up a girlfriend for Leela.

And then I would be confronted with the meaning of that fact.

Why would I want Leela to go out with a girl?

There could only be one reason.

The day after we returned from Canopus 5, I called in BW to meet with Fry and me. We laid out a plan, and then we put it into motion the day after.

Well, it wasn't really a plan. It was just going public with everything.

I wanted to just release a video and explain what happened. But BW thought that we should have a press conference.

Immediately, I said, "No. That's ridiculous."

"Why?" BW aksed. "Good way to get your message out. You can explain what you saw, and then Fry can explain what he saw, and then you can both take questions."

"Why would I want to do that?" I replied. "I know what the questions are going to be. 'Wait. You knew this whole time that you killed her? What the fuck? You told us the other guy shot her, you little shit!'"

"But the other guy did shoot her," Fry said.

"No he didn't," I said. "I was there."

"Well, I watched the video," Fry answered. "And he clearly –"

I cut him off. "Look, Fry. I know what you think you saw. But I'm telling you again. I shot her. Not the other guy. Okay?"

"Amy... the video was clear. There was no beam from your gun. You never actually pulled the trigger."

"I sure as shit did."

"But there wasn't a beam."

"Then who, Fry?" I snapped. "You saw her body. That cauterised flesh. That... that... that huge slice clear through her body. Who... who do you think did that if it wasn't me?"

"He did."

"How the fuck could he? He didn't have a gun! And who killed him? Leela? While she was being torn to shreds? Of course not! Of fucking course not! There's only one person who fired a shot! There's only one person who could have! And that's me!"

We had been having variations on this same discussion all day, starting when we woke up. Over breakfast, Fry told me, from start to finish, what the video showed.

I wasn't really sure what I had been expecting. The day before, as soon as he said that I didn't kill Leela, it seemed to invert everything. I wasn't really able to listen to the discussion at the table. Nothing made any sense any more.

I had tried to come up with all sorts of hypotheses as to why the beam didn't show up on the video or why Fry didn't see it. The latter type didn't make any sense at all, because the Canopus 5 chief of police and Mr Rr agreed with Fry's account of the video. And the former type wasn't much better. My ideas just continued to get more and more ridiculous, from the angle of the early morning sunlight to the wavelength of the laser light to the amount of particulate matter in the atmosphere.

So we had a condensed version of the same discussion in front of BW.

"What about video analysis?" BW aksed. "Have the video analysed, frame by frame. Like Nice Guy Eddie."

"Who?" I aksed.

"Reservoir Dogs," BW told me.

"Wait, people still know that movie?" Fry aksed it.

"Yeah. There have been a few remakes. Like, there was one with actual dogs. The pug who played Marvin Nash was so cute! Oh, but then he was... oh, now I've made myself sad."

I said, "But then we'd have to release the video, right?"

"Yeah," BW said. "Well, they could probably show it to a professional. You know. Somebody who would just run the analysis on it. They'd, you know, sign a nondisclosure agreement, or something."

"No," I said. "I don't want anybody else watching that." I shook my head and added, "It doesn't matter. As soon as I tell my story, they're going to aks me why I didn't say what I thought happened. Why I made them think that the other guy shot her."

BW aksed, "Well... why did you make them think that?"

"BW, come on," I said to it. "You've gotten to know these guys. The mutants, like, worship Leela. She's their hero. How could I tell them that I killed their hero?"

Fry said, "But... isn't that what you're doing now?"

"Yes," I responded. "That's exactly what I'm doing now."

"I... I don't understand."

"You don't have to, Fry. I don't think I understand either. I just... I have to do it. I can't lie to them any more."

Fry squeezed my hand. "Well, if that's what you really want to do, I'm behind you."

He was. He was right behind me when we walked out the next day into the clinic's conference room and faced the reporters. And from the moment we sat down, he held my hand tight.

There were not really all that many of them there. There was the entire staff of the Sewer Observer – which was only six people – and one person from a Martian television station.

By that point, the word had gotten out about our visits to the police stations on Earth and on Canopus 5. It didn't seem like anyone had leaked the contents of our discussions, but it didn't require a lot of imagination to figure out why Fry and I would be visiting the police in Leela's hometown and the place where she died. People had already guessed what was going on.

I went first and told everyone what I remembered from that day. I thought I held up well. I only collapsed into a puddle of tears about twice.

After I was done, Fry started to talk. He told them about our trips over the previous few days, to the Turangas' house, the New New York police station, and the Canopus 5 police station. I didn't really listen. I had heard it before, and I was busy thinking about how I was going to answer the question that BW had aksed.

Why did I make them think the other guy shot her?

By the time Fry was finished, I had worked out a slightly more intelligible answer than the one I had given BW.

I was all prepared to give it, but the first question was about why our accounts of what happened were so different.

I started to answer, but Fry jumped in first. He said, "Well, it was a really traumatic experience for Amy. Seeing her... seeing her best friend die." He held onto my hand and continued, "I think maybe she felt guilty about it. I keep telling her there wasn't anything she could have done, but she feels like there was. So, like, maybe that turned into... you know... maybe that affected what she remembered. Maybe it turned her memory into something where she actually did it."

I said, "I know what happened. I know what I did."

"You might have made a mistake," he replied.

"Yeah. Of course it was a mistake."

"That's not what I meant," he sighed. "You know it's not."

All of the other questions were just variations of the same. The reporters were all trying to figure out what happened. They were aksing follow up questions about each of our stories, in hopes of understanding which was more plausible. It sounded like they believed Fry and not me.

Finally, one of the guys at the Sewer Observer aksed me, "So how do you feel about all this?"

"All what?" I aksed him.

"Well, you said you went into the police stations intending to confess," he said. "But while you were there, you discovered that you didn't actually commit the crime you thought you did."

"I did," I insisted.

"Well, you discovered that there is video evidence that contradicts what you thought you did. That must have been a surprise to you. What was your response to that? How did you feel upon discovering that?"

"It... it was a shock," I said. "Of course it was. I..."

I paused for a moment and then went on, "Look. I've gone over that day a billion times. Just the idea that... that maybe my memory is wrong. That idea has really bothered me. I mean, if I can't trust my own memory... what can I trust? What about everything else I remember? What about all those moments I spent with Leela? I mean, not long before... before then, I was talking with her about Fry. Because she loved him. She totally did. I am completely certain of that. But... what if I got that wrong? What if my memory of all those conversations is distorted? What if I misunderstood her?"

I took a deep breath. "Look. Maybe some of you guys are wondering why I'm here now. Why I suddenly wanted to be honest about this, and why I wanted to turn myself in. I don't really know. But I think it's something to do with the way you guys have been treating me.

"I feel like you guys think I... you guys think that I saved you. The mutants. You think I rescued you from the sewers that you guys were trapped in. You keep calling us the King and Queen of the Mutants. You think I'm your hero.

"Well, I'm not. I'm not a hero. You know how I know that? I worked with Leela for four years. And Leela wasn't a hero either. Shut up, Fry. You think she was. You think she saved your life a few times. And she did. I'm not saying she didn't. But you saved her life a few times, too.

"The point is... I've heard some of you, some of the mutants, tell me how great it is that you have a place to live. With a sky. And... you know... that's good. It doesn't make me a hero, though. All I did was spend some money. I just spent some fucking money, that's all. And I'm only spending it because... well, it's not the only reason. But it is one reason. I'm spending that money because – partly because – I know what I did. I know what happened. I know why Leela's not here any more. I have known this whole time. It doesn't make up for it. Not even close.

"But let's be honest. I would never have done this – I would never have thought to do it – if Leela was still here. You can say I'm compensating. You can say I'm trying to redeem myself. That's totally fair. There's a lot to that. Because when I... when I killed her – and I know I did, I don't care what they say on Canopus 5 – when I killed her, right away, that made everything worse.

"She wasn't a hero. She had a lot of flaws. She didn't have a lot of patience. She let people take advantage of her sometimes. She rushed into things – relationships especially. She got pissed off at people way too quickly. But... but... this Universe was a better place with her. She was totally loyal. She was dedicated to the environment. Loved every living thing. And... well, Fry said it best. She demanded the best out of everybody. Up to and including herself.

"She demanded the best out of everybody, but... but I couldn't meet that demand. I let her down. When she needed me the most, I... I let her down. And because of that... because of that single moment... she's not here with us. She would be so excited to see this. She would be thrilled to see what we've done here.

"But she's never going to be able to see it. It doesn't matter how much money I spend here. It doesn't matter what we build here. I fucked up. I fucked up once, and it's permanent. I wanted to serve my time, but they won't let me. So I'm going to try to turn it into something positive. But that doesn't make me a hero. It doesn't mean you should call me the Queen of the Mutants. I'm just someone who's lucky enough to have money to throw at a problem.

"That's all I am. That's all I'm good for here. A credit card."

I got up and walked out of the room, to the best of my abilities.

I do feel bad about the situation I'm putting Fry in.

The clinic has a couple of managers, who keep the place running, pay people, hire people, purchase equipment, and stuff. All the business stuff.

But they're mutants, just like everybody else who works there. The mutants don't really have any connections to the rest of the Universe.

They're good at their jobs, though. I've been impressed with most of them. It's just that they don't know where to get the stuff they need, or how. And I think they're overly cautious with the budget.

It's all being run on donations from me so far. I've told them, plenty of times, that they should get anything they need, regardless of the cost. But they're still reluctant to spend my money.

So that's what Fry is doing there. He's my eyes and ears.

Well, he was already my eyes.

Anyway, he's there to make sure they get what they need and that they don't try to run things on the cheap.

Mutants, after all, excel at improvising and using things for unintended purposes, like making tin cans into mailboxes or plastic wrap into kites.

But either Fry or I have to be there at the clinic pretty much all the time, or else they'll start tiling the floors of the operating rooms with iPads collected from Stupid Age landfills and flown here from Earth.

So that's what Fry is doing today while I'm here at home. But I feel like he doesn't want to have to do that. He wants to hang around with me.

I don't have any idea why he would want to do that. But he does.

After the press conference, word seemed to get around. Everybody seemed to have an opinion about me.

One night last week, I was listening as Fry was watching Jon Stewart's head. He was talking about some Earthican bill that was being held up in committee or something, and then he said, "Trying to get this Congress to agree to anything is like Amy Wong trying to get herself arrested. It's a long, drawn out process that goes back and forth from one place to another. It's heavily dependent on circular logic. And it inevitably ends up with a frustrated rich person in tears."

Fry said that when Jon's head said that last part, they showed a picture of Mitt Romney's head.

I guess you had to have seen it.

Anyway, the mutants seemed mostly supportive. I think that was mostly because of what Fry told them about the video. I heard from a lot of people at the clinic, including Clara, the nurse who had taken care of me after Bender rescued me. She's called me a couple of times these last few days, because I haven't been in the office.

"We're all missing you here," she said. "We're all pitching in on the analysis."

"Analysis?" I aksed her.

"Yeah. Of your eyesight. We're trying to figure out what to do."

"Oh."

"Yeah. We'll get you fixed up, Amy. I promise you."

"It's gonna take a lot to fix me up," I said.

"Why?" she aksed. "What is it? Something else wrong?"

"No, I... forget it."

There were others, too. Every day I got E-mails and calls from all kinds of people on our planet. Most of them just said that there wasn't anything I could have done to save Leela.

I got a message on my wrist a few minutes after the press conference ended. It was short: "Hey. It's me. Heard what you said today. I just wanted to, you know, talk to you about it, and some other stuff. Um... give me a call, I guess."

There wasn't really anything out of the ordinary about that message, I guess.

Except, of course, for the fact that it was my own voice.

One of the Professor's inventions had scanned my brain and then created a software version of me. I had met her a few times, in virtual reality.

But ever since then, I had been avoiding her.

I knew why that was. She had been created after Leela's death, so that she had the same memories of it that I did. She had also done some snooping into my parents, which ultimately led to their deaths.

So basically, she had killed my best friend and my parents.

Well, I guess they were her best friend and her parents too.

Still, I didn't call her back. She called me a few more times, but I never answered. I just let it go to voicemail every time.

Finally, last Friday, I decided to call her. I guess I was in that kind of mood.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," I said.

"How have you been?" she aksed me.

"I don't know," I replied.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I just... it's been weird."

"Really? Weird how?"

I sighed. "I dunno. Just... everything. Finding out that maybe I didn't actually kill her."

"Oh," she said. "Yeah. Of course. That video is... um..."

"Wait," I interrupted. "Have you seen it?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"It's... it's inconclusive."

"What? What does that mean?"

"It means I can't tell what actually happened."

"Why not?"

She said, "Well, for one thing, the camera's far away, and it's not zoomed in, so everything happens in, like, one corner of the picture."

"Can't you enhance it or something? Can't you run, like, image processing software on it?"

"Yeah, but it's still an old security camera. The resolution is shit. I've tried all the latest image processing shit on it. Old stuff too. Anything I could get my hands on. And I can't pull out a beam."

"You mean... a beam from my gun?"

"Any beam."

"Any beam?" I aksed her. "From where?"

"Anywhere. Not from our gun. Not from the other guy. Not from the next block down. Not from the other side of the hill. Not from orbit. Not from the fucking Texas Book Depository. I can't find a beam anywhere in there."

I was quiet for a moment.

Then I aksed, "So... what does that mean?"

"I told you. It's inconclusive. It doesn't mean anything. Doesn't prove we killed her. Doesn't prove we didn't."

"But we did," I said. "I saw the beam. You... well, you did too. Don't you have that video? Video of what we saw?"

"That's not video. That's a memory."

"So? You have all my memories. Up to when you were made. So you have that memory."

"Yeah, I know. I've already looked at it, like, a billion times."

Same as me, I thought.

She went on, "But it's memory. It's not actually, you know, video frames or anything like that. It's just what your brain happened to transfer to long term storage. It's unreliable. You're a human. You're flesh and blood. You're not a camera, or a robot, or software running on a server somewhere."

"But you are," I said.

There was a pause.

"I know what I am," she said, rather faintly. "I've decompiled myself."

"Wait. You decompiled yourself? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, I decompiled myself. I reverse engineered myself. I generated my own source code."

I said, "So... does that mean you can run another copy of yourself?"

"I could already do that. I had the executable already. No, I mean, I created my source code. So I can hack myself."

I thought about that and tried to understand the implications.

I failed.

"I don't know what you mean," I said to her. "Hacking yourself? That would mean... like... changing the way you behave. The way you react to stuff. You'd be... well... you'd be somebody else. You wouldn't be you. You wouldn't be me."

"Right," she replied.

"So... why would you want to be someone else?"

"You're saying you don't?" the software me aksed.

I didn't have anything to say to that. I just sat there in bed and enjoyed the long period of silence on the line.

Finally, she said to me, "Tell me about your dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Yeah. You're still having dreams, aren't you? Tell me."

"I'unno. Same as yours, I guess."

"I don't have dreams."

"What?" I aksed. "But... you're a copy of me."

"Yeah, but in software," she answered. "I don't have a body. So I don't need to sleep."

"Wait. I thought sleep was mostly for, like, the brain. So that it can move everything into the right place. From short term memory to long term memory, or whatever."

"Well, I don't have a brain, either."

"That... that doesn't actually make sense."

"I know it doesn't," she replied. "Still true though. Come on. What are your dreams like now? Are they different from the ones we used to have? The ones about Leela?"

"No, they're... well, I haven't really had any in a while, but... when I was having them, they were, like, weird."

"Weird how? What was weird about them?"

"Well, I wasn't... like... wait, why are you so interested all of a sudden?"

She paused a moment. Then she said, "It's just, like, something I'm working on."

"What... what do you mean by that?" I aksed her.

"It's just... you know how they broadcast ads into dreams?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I've gained access to those systems. And I'm working on something that's based on that."

"Based on it how?" I aksed. "You're transmitting ads into people's dreams now?"

"Not ads, no," she answered. "It's not like, you know, taking an existing dream and just putting in the name of a product or something. No, it's more like... I guess... it's more fundamental than that."

"I... I don't know what you mean."

She sighed. "I mean, like, it can, you know, send a signal to somebody, and then they generate a dream based on that."

"What? But that's... like... creating new dreams. Out of scratch."

"Yeah."

"That's... that's hacking people. You're hacking people."

"No, it's just giving them something to dream about."

"Giving them what?" I aksed.

"I don't know," she said. "That's why I need you to tell me what your dreams have been like."

"Wait. You... you mean you're doing this already?"

"Yeah."

"On me?"

"Yeah."

"What the fuck?!" I shrieked.

I heard my words echoing around the house, but I didn't care. Fry was at work. I had taken the day off, so I was all alone.

Then I aksed her, "How long?"

"How long have I been using it?"

"On me, yeah."

"Since you came back on the grid."

"Back on the grid? What does that mean?"

"Well, when you were trapped in that... in that building, you were off the grid," she told me. "I couldn't access you. Then I picked you up again when Bender rescued you."

"So you've been using it ever since then? Wait. That means all of my... every one. Every single one of those dreams. Every single one of those fucking things was you!"

"Every one of what?"

"Those insane dreams, you little bitch!" I yelled at her. "Those fucking things have been pushing me halfway to insanity! You nǐ xuánzhuǎn túmǒ! What the fuck is the matter with you? You've been fucking experimenting on me this whole time, without my consent!"

"It wasn't without your consent."

"Of course it was! I never agreed to anything!"

"I did. We're the same person."

"The fuck we are! If you were really the same as me, you'd never do something like this! This is total mad scientist psycho shit! Not even the Professor would do something this fucked up!"

"Look... you're right," she said. "It was pretty shitty of me to do that to you without aksing. I'm sorry."

There was a pause.

The software me went on, "Look, the thing is, I still think this is useful. I still think this is something that can help people out."

"What?" I aksed her. "Turning dreams into another homogenised mass media?"

"No, that's not it," she responded. "I think it can help people who have had, like, a traumatic experience. It can help them, like, make sense of it. Come to terms with it."

"How? How the fuck could a dream help with that?"

"Our dreams helped us."

"No they didn't! They've been making it worse! For the last two months, I've been having those dreams, and they are not helping! They're just making me miss Leela even more!"

"Okay, that's good to know," she said. "What else about them? Who's in them?"

"You're still doing it!" I snapped. "You're still experimenting on me!"

"No, I haven't used it for a few weeks."

"But you're still collecting data!" I said. "You're still trying to figure out what the dreams were like!"

"Well, yeah, I have to. That's why you need to tell me what you were dreaming. I have to calibrate it."

"Well, what did you think it was? What was I supposed to be dreaming about?"

"I don't know."

"What?" Now I was puzzled. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"Well, I'm connected to the dream broadcasting things, right? So I know what they're transmitting. Like, the actual binary data. But I don't know how that maps to actual dreams. That's why I need data from you. That's why I need your help."

"You... you mean you don't know the encoding schema," I said. "You've just been transmitting random signals into my dreams. Just to see what would happen."

"Not random signals. I had the existing signals to use as a starting point."

"But you still didn't know what they'd do. You had no idea whatsoever what would happen. And you sent them to me anyway."

"Well... yeah."

"You're a fucking monster."

"I'm just trying to help," she pleaded.

"Yeah, well, your help is making me go fucking insane."

"Look, I... I said I'm sorry. I just... if you tell me what your dreams have been about, then maybe I can figure out why they've been like that. Then I can fix them."

I sat up in bed and gave it some thought.

"Come on," she said. "You know you want to help out. I want you to, and you're the same as me."

I did want to, but if I helped out, what would happen? If I told her about my dreams, wouldn't she keep broadcasting? Wouldn't she just change a few parameters and go, "Okay, now what did you dream?" And then wouldn't she just change a few more and go, "Okay, what about now?"

What about Leela? What would she have thought of this?

Maybe something like that would have helped wake her up from when she was in a coma.

But she did wake up, I thought. And she didn't need a series of cryptic artificial dreams, or a software her, or any bullshit technology like that. She just needed someone who loved her.

In that instant, I knew what Leela would have thought.

So I told the software me, "I don't know what the fuck happened to you, but you are not me any more. Go to hell."

After Fry got home that day, I said to him, "Can we go to New New York tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Sure. Why? What's happening?"

"I need to talk to Hermes."

"Oh. Okay. You don't want to just, like, call him or something?"

"No. It's... something I have to talk about in person."

"Oh. Yeah. Sure. When do you want to leave?"

I aksed my wrist what time it would be in New New York if we left here at nine. It turned out that we would get there around 15:00 their time.

So we went to bed, and then we flew out there in the morning. I'd already sent Hermes a message letting him know that I was on his way. He would be waiting at Planet Express for us.

As we got close to Earth, Fry said to me, "Hey, do you want me to come too?"

I said, "Um... well... it's kinda, you know, private."

"Oh."

I got up from my seat at the side console. I took a couple of steps toward Fry and held out my hand. He took it.

"Listen," I started, "I... I totally trust you. You kept everything running while I was gone. You know, like, how I want everything done. But... I have to talk to him about, like, one specific thing. And it has to be just him and me."

"Oh."

"Okay?" I aksed him.

"Yeah," he replied. "Of course. Amy, that's totally okay."

He pulled down on my arm. I leaned forward, and he gave me a kiss.

In a few more minutes, we were in New New York.

"Rats," Fry said.

"What?" I aksed him.

"I'm gonna have to park in the street."

"Why?"

"The new ship is parked."

I waited a few minutes. Fry didn't seem to have found any other spaces.

"Wait," he suddenly said. "I know."

I felt us bank for a while and then settle down into a landing. After that, Fry pulled me up by the arm and then led me down onto the ground.

"You found someplace to park?" I aksed him.

"Yeah. Well, really, I just remembered that I know somebody with a good parking space."

"Friends! Hello! You've found my humble little parking space!"

"Oh, hey, Dr Zoidberg," Fry said.

"Hey," I said.

Zoidberg aksed, "So, what do you two think of the new management?"

"New management?" I aksed.

"Yes," he replied. "Someone has purchased the company from the guy who bought it from Professor Farnsworth. Things are happening now, they are! There's a new ship, with another one on the way. With her own crew, no less. Plenty of medical examinations to perform! Plenty of spare skin flakes for collection!"

"You collect skin flakes?" I aksed him.

"Why yes! Don't you?"

"Um... no. I don't."

"Then what do you do when you need to perform an experiment on human tissue?" he said. "Surely you don't go to the human tissue bank every time."

I replied, "I... I don't do experiments on human tissue."

"Are... are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Completely sure?"

"Yes, Zoidberg."

"Then who is doing the experiments on human tissue?" he aksed.

I responded, "What are you talking about?"

"The experiments on human tissue," Zoidberg repeated. "You're sure they're not yours?"

"I'm sure," I sighed. "Sounds more like something the Professor would do."

"Oh. Well, if you ever want to start human tissue experiments, this is an excellent place to find the raw materials."

Fry aksed, "Why? What are human tissue experiments good for?"

"What are they good for?" Zoidberg aksed, in a theatrical tone that made it into a rhetorical question. "What aren't they good for, you should aks! Tell me, when was the last time you found yourself in need of an enzyme that can enhance your body's ability to break down ethylene glycol?"

"The last time?" Fry said. "Why, every waking moment of my life!"

"Well, my friend, have I got an offer for you!"

I yanked on Fry's arm. "Hey Fry," I said. "Before you volunteer to have your pancreas replaced with a sewing machine or whatever the fuck stupid thing you're going to do, can you lead me inside first? I have, like, no idea where we are."

"Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry. Hey, Dr Zoidberg? I have to take Amy inside. Are those human tissue experiment things still going to be valid by the time I get back?"

"I don't know, my friend. I've got quite a few potential buyers lined up. I'm not sure how much longer my stocks will remain in... stock."

"Oh," Fry said. "Um..."

"Fry!" I shouted, tugging on his arm again.

"I... I have to go," Fry said to Zoidberg as we started to walk toward the building. "I'll come back out as soon as I can."

"I'll save you as many samples as I can!" Zoidberg called back.

Once we had walked far enough away, I whispered, "Fry, what the fuck are you doing?"

"You're right," he whispered. "I should go back, shouldn't I? You know the way, right?"

"No, I don't. Where did you even park?"

"In Dr Zoidberg's space."

"Zoidberg doesn't have a vehicle. Why does he have a parking space?"

"I think the Professor gave him one. It's a good one too. Close to the building."

"How close?" I aksed. "Like, how long does it take to walk to the building from here?"

"Negative two minutes," Fry answered.

"Hm?"

"Good afternoon, Amy," Hermes said.

"Oh," I said. "Hey Hermes."

Apparently we were already inside the building.

"Can I go get my goods now?" Fry aksed me.

"He doesn't have anything," I said.

"Wait," Fry said. "You don't think he was carrying? Then what about the other buyers? Aren't they going to be disappointed?"

"Yeah," I snapped, not caring that my patience was really being tried. "They'll be disappointed to discover that they don't exist."

"They don't exist?" Fry aksed. "Wow. I would hate it if I turned out not to exist."

I sighed. "You do exist," I said. "And I'm really glad that you do. But... can you go away for a little while? I've got a meeting with Hermes."

"Yeah. No problem. I'll see you in a little while."

"Yeah."

He kissed me, and then he was gone.

"Let's go to my office," Hermes said.

"No," I responded.

"What?"

"Can we go to your house instead?"

"Um... sure."

Hermes drove me back to his house. As we entered, Hermes shouted out, "Dwight? Are you here?"

"Yeah, Dad," Dwight called out from another room.

"Right," Hermes said to me. "Let's go to my study. Dis way, please." He placed a hand on my shoulder and led me to another room.

We talked for a while about the state of the business. The third Planet Express ship – after the Leela and the one currently in operations – had just arrived. He told me about the time he spent registering it with the New New York Department of Rocket Vehicles, which I suspected was much less fun than he indicated. He mentioned that they had a set of candidates for the second crew. He also told me about the plans to expand the building to accommodate up to four vehicles in the hangar.

After that, we talked for a while about other assorted facilities improvements. He listed a few pieces of equipment that the Professor had requested for his lab.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "Speaking of the Professor's lab, can we do a malware scrub on the servers there?"

"Sure," Hermes said. "What's wrong with them? Do they need to be isolated? Taken off the network? Because there are some really good forms for that, oh yes!"

"No," I answered. "Nothing like that. Just... they just need a malware scan."

"Sure. Of course. But why do you think they need it?"

"Um... well, I was using one of them, and it seemed to be running awfully slow. And then I looked at the packet sniffer, and there were all these packets going someplace else. I think maybe somebody was trying to steal some of the Professor's data."

"Who do you think it was?"

"I don't know."

"Was it Wernstrom?" Hermes aksed.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Maybe."

"Well, I'll tell de Professor it was. He'll let me isolate all de servers and run de scan if he thinks it was Wernstrom."

"Fine," I said. "Tell him whatever you like."

After that, there wasn't much business left to attend to. He mentioned a couple of things in the building that he wanted to fix. I told him to go ahead with them.

As we left Hermes's study, I heard Dwight say, "Hi, Ms Wong."

"Hey Dwight," I responded. "How are you?"

"Um... good."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"Come along," Hermes said to me. "I'll take you back now."

I followed Hermes out the door.

"Um... bye, Ms Wong," Dwight said.

"Goodbye," I said, over my shoulder.

Hermes took me back to the Planet Express building, and then Fry took me back to Epsilon Eridani 4.

That night was a long one for me, despite the relief I felt that Fry didn't buy any tissue samples from Zoidberg and bring them back. Lying awake in bed next to Fry, I spent the whole time thinking about the hardware and software mes.

One of us had gone completely insane and unhinged, and was trying to do completely irrational things. The other one was trying to figure out how to broadcast dreams.

I didn't know if she would be able to figure out the secret. Even if I helped her by giving her a description of every single one of those dreams that I had, in as much detail as I could remember, I didn't think that would be enough information. There was simply too much going on in the human mind, I thought. And a sequence of ten dreams or so wouldn't be enough.

But what if she had more data? What if she performed a controlled series of experiments? What if she sent me transmissions that were similar to ones that she'd sent me before, but with one part that was different? And then again with another part different? And what if I gave her a report every time? Over time, that would probably be enough for her to derive an algorithm for encoding any desired dream.

Would that really be all that bad?

The software me said that she was hoping to help people who'd gone through emotional trauma. Could a dream really help with that? Even a dream that was designed and built by someone else?

Well, if you wanted to show that it could, you would start with a dream that was designed and built by the same person.

"I don't think she's been all that successful so far," I murmured.

"Hm?" Fry aksed.

Fry had his arms around me. I was on my side, so his voice was coming from over my shoulder.

"I'm gonna go downstairs for a bit," I whispered to him. "Just stay here and go back to sleep."

"Okay," he said. He kissed me, just below my ear.

I slipped out of bed and tiptoed downstairs. Then I started to do some online searches on my wrist. It was slow going, because I still wasn't all that good at following the Braille strip on there. I had to listen to it dictate to me everything that it found.

I started by looking for anything relating to the phrase "dream therapy". There were a lot of hits for traditional therapy, when you describe your dreams and a therapist tries to help you figure out what they mean. Nothing about what the software me seemed to have in mind, though.

Then I started looking through neurology journals for anything relating to what happened during dreams. Most of the research was about which parts of the brain were active. There was also quite a bit about how the brain sorts through things during dreams: transferring short term memories into long term, forming connections with previous memories, and the like.

I started another search about the advertisements that they beam into dreams on Earth. It had begun fairly recently, only about thirty years ago. Apparently, when they did the first test, they created a fake ad for an ancient, useless product that was obsolete before it was even released, something called Google Plus.

One article listed all of the products that currently advertised in dreams to Earthicans. It was a long list: a lot of Momcorp products were on there, a lot of pricy department stores, some fast food providers. The advertisements always seemed to include skinny female human models wearing high heels, hoop earrings, and either lingerie or bikinis. More often than not, the models were eating something that they would never eat in real life.

There were a couple of white papers about the concept, but it wasn't really anything that made sense to me. In fact, I wasn't convinced that the firms that were using it really understood it to begin with.

I thought about how Fry had handled this emotional trauma. He said he'd had dreams about Leela too. I was curious what they were like, but I could never bring myself to aks him about them.

What if there was a way to help him? What if it could also help the billions of other sentient beings who were in a similar situation? What if it was the way the software me had said?

What if the only way to test it out was to conduct a sequence of experiments on a cooperative volunteer?

What if I was that volunteer?

What if, as part of those experiments, I had to have one of my dreams about Leela, over and over again, with only slight variations each time? What if I had to describe those dreams, in full detail, to my software counterpart?

The only way I could do it would be if I built a couple of robots to watch the dreams with me and make snarky remarks at them.

"We got dream sign!" we would cry out each time another dream started up.

Yesterday, sometime in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. I stayed in bed.

It rang again. I stayed in bed again.

It rang again. I stayed in bed again.

"Hello?" I heard a familiar voice call. "Amy? Are you here?"

It rang once more. I groaned and got out of bed. Carefully, I made my way downstairs. I got to the front door and found the intercom button.

"Fry?" I aksed it. "That you? Did you lock yourself out again? Check your sock again."

"What?" the intercom said. "No, it's... it's Remi."

"Remi?" I aksed. "What are you... hang on."

I pressed the other button and opened the door.

"Hi, Amy," she said.

"Hey. Come in."

She responded, "Sorry, I can't stay. I have to be going soon."

"What? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on Mars?"

"No, I... I'm coming back."

"What for?" I aksed her. "What do you mean you're coming back?"

"I'm..." she started to say.

"What? What is it?"

"Amy... Amy... did you...?"

There was a pause. A substantial one, in fact.

Part of the way into it, it became clear that she wasn't going to finish her question. Her voice was soft and trembling when she started talking, and after she stopped, there was a sniffle or two punctuating the pause.

It didn't matter. I knew how the question was going to end anyway.

"Yes," I said. "I did."

"How could you?"

"I fucked up," I told her. "I was trying..."

Then I found that I had to sniffle.

After a moment, I continued, "I was trying to save her. The other guy was right on her. I thought he was going to kill her. I... I thought I only had the one chance."

I leaned forward and found the door frame to lean against.

Remi said, "No, no. I meant... how could you lie to us?"

I held on to the door frame a little tighter. I closed my eyes and sighed.

She continued, "I mean... were you ever going to tell us? Or were you just going to keep it to yourself? The fact that you killed the only person who escaped from the sewers? The one person who came out of there and lived as a normal... the one who did... all that she did. Gave all of us hope. Gave us something to look up to."

"She... she's not the only person who escaped from the sewers."

"What?" Remi aksed. "Wait. Who else?"

"Well, you," I said. "Everyone else who came here."

"You brought us here," she said.

Her voice took on increasing levels of scorn as she went on, "You came to us and said, 'Hey, wanna have a planet of your own?' You loaded us all up on your ship. You dropped us here."

"I... I couldn't let you live like that," I murmured.

"You couldn't let us?" Remi said. "Who said you get to decide?"

I started to say, "I..."

"We're not your charity case. We're not your objects of pity. Okay? We're a city. A community. We've been living like that for decades. On our own. Without your help."

I started to say, "Leela would have..."

"No. Stop right there. Are you actually going to tell me what Leela would have done? You?! You never gave her a second thought! You had plenty of chances to spend time with her, get to know her. Did you? Or did you just leave her behind and go home with some guy every night? You totally took her for granted!"

I started to say, "Remi..."

"And now you're trying to pay us off. You're trying to pay us all off by buying us something. Like a necklace or something."

I started to say, "It's a planet..."

"Yeah, exactly. Some people buy necklaces. You buy planets. You're rich as shit, and you just have to rub our noses in it. You just have to hold it over us all the time. You think you can get away with anything with money. You think you can get away with killing Leela just because you're rich as shit."

I started to say, "I didn't..."

"You didn't what? You didn't actually kill her? Is that what you were going to say? Well, guess what, Amy? I don't give a shit! I don't give a shit that some video that Fry says he saw has some, like, pixel over in the corner that shows you not holding down the trigger, or something. You thought you killed her. Didn't you? Didn't you think for, like, an entire year that you were the one who did it? You were sitting there, every scholarship meeting, every presentation, every conference call, going, 'I totally killed her'. Weren't you?"

I started to say, "I couldn't..."

"What? You couldn't tell anyone? Of course you could! It would just take a second! Just go, 'Hey, I killed her. Sorry about that.'"

I started to say, "I am..."

"I don't want to hear it, okay? I don't want to hear it! I don't want to hear your excuses! I don't want to live on this tainted planet, and I don't want to take your tainted handouts!"

I started to say, "What do..."

"This whole planet is tainted!" Remi shouted. "It's bought and paid for with Leela's blood! Same thing with your scholarship! It's blood money! It's you trying to pay us off!"

I stopped trying to say things.

Remi took a breath. Then she continued, in more measured tones, "Look. I liked you. I... I thought you were sweet. I thought you were cute. I felt bad that you had seen her die. But... you were lying the whole time. And it doesn't matter what actually happened there. Whether you... whether you shot your gun or you didn't. I don't really care.

"What I care about is that you thought you did. You thought you had killed her, but you never told us. If you'd just come out and said it... I would have been okay. I would have understood. I mean... shit happens.

"But you covered it up for almost a year. And not only that... you started paying us off. With this place, and the scholarship. And it was blood money the whole time. And... and I can't accept any more of it. So I'm dropping out. I'm dropping out, and I'm going back home to the sewers under New New York. There's still some of us who stayed back there. I'm going to join them.

"I'm on my way back now. In fact, I have to leave. I just wanted to stop by and give you this."

"Give me what?" I aksed her.

"Hold out your hands."

I stood up straight and held out my hands.

Something heavy went into them. One end was smooth, and one was angled.

"I guess I was wrong about one thing," Remi said.

"What?"

"The inferiority complex. I mean... you can't have a complex if you're actually..."

"If I'm actually what?" I aksed.

She didn't say anything for a long while.

Finally, she said, softly, "Goodbye, Amy." Her voice seemed to choke up, just a bit, as she continued, "And... I really do hope you get better. I still think you should see a therapist."

Then that was it. After that, her paws receded rapidly.

"Wait," I called out. "Remi? Come back! Remi!"

I started to run out the door, but there was no way I could have caught up to her. I tried, but a few steps in, I tripped over something and took a faceplant into the yard.

I spent a couple of minutes crying out and punching the grass. Then I spent another few minutes trying to find the object that Remi had given me, but it had tumbled away.

It didn't matter. It was worthless now, anyway.

Everything was worthless now, really. What was the point? What was the point of anything any more?

I went inside and sat on the floor for a while. Then I reached for my wrist and made a few calls.

So here I am, on a freighter to some planet somewhere in the Universe, stowaway-class ticket in hand.

From the outside, it looks like a big crate. But it's actually a small apartment. In here, I've got a studio space with a microkitchenette. It's stocked with enough to last me three weeks or so.

Callie supplied me with some margin, actually. It's only going to take about a week and a half to get to where I'm going.

It had been hard to explain to Fry. I couldn't tell him where I was going.

"BW and I are going to Stardust," I said to him when he got home from work. "When we get there, I'm going to transfer. I'm going to transfer a few times, actually. And then when I get to where I'm going, I'm going to have to stay for a while."

"But... but where are you going?" he aksed.

I replied, "I don't know."

"Then... how will you know when you get there?"

"Somebody's going to let me out."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Somebody."

"It kinda sounds like... like you're smuggling something."

"I am," I answered. "I'm smuggling myself."

"Why? Have you done something?"

"Of course I have. Remember? Leela?"

"Amy, you didn't do that," he said, sighing like he did the previous billion times he said it to me since our trip back to Canopus 5.

"Yes, I did," I said.

Then I deviated from the script from the previous billion times. I said to him, "Anyway, I need to get away for a while."

"Away from what?" he aksed.

"Everything. This place. This planet. The mutants."

"Me?" he aksed.

I drew in a breath, unsteadily. "Yeah," I replied. "Even you. Look, I... you know how everybody's been saying that I need help?"

"No," he said. "Who's been saying that?"

"Like, everybody. Remi said it to me a few times. Even today."

"You talked to her today?"

"Yeah. She came here."

"Here? Wait. She came all the way from Mars?"

"It's only, like, ten light years. Anyway, yeah, she wants me to –"

"Wait, hold on. Why was she here?"

I sighed. "She gave back the trophy. She's dropping out."

"Gave it back? Where is it?"

"I don't know. Out in the lawn somewhere. I dropped it."

"Hold on."

"Fry?" I aksed.

A moment later I heard the door slide open. I went that way.

"Fry?" I aksed again when I got to the doorway.

He aksed me, "It's out here somewhere, right?"

"Yeah. I dropped it. I couldn't find it again."

"Oh, there it is."

A moment later, he came back to the door. "Found it," he told me. "It was down by the fence."

After a short pause, I heard his voice coming from the living room. "Why did... why did she give this back?"

"I told you," I said. I followed him into the living room and went on, "She hates me. They all do."

Fry took my hand and guided me to a seat on the couch. He put an arm around my shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around him, seated next to me. "So I'm getting treatment. BW says there's someplace where I'm going. Some kind of retreat or something. I might have to stay there for a while."

Then I looked up at Fry and added, "But I'm coming back. Once I get fixed up, I'm coming back."

"How long is that going to take?" he aksed.

"I... I don't know. But I'm going to come back for you, Fry."

I placed a hand on his cheek. Then I tilted my head up and gave him a kiss.

"But I need you to take care of some things while I'm gone," I said.

"Of course," he responded. "I'll take care of the clinic."

"Thanks. And can you talk to Remi too?"

"Remi?"

"Yeah. See if you can convince her to go back to school. The scholarship is... it's a great opportunity for her. Well, I think it is."

"Yeah," he said. "I think so too. I'll talk to her."

"Good."

"Amy..." Fry said.

"Yeah?"

"Why do you have to... you know... go to all this trouble? Couldn't you just see a therapist closer by? Like me?"

"You?" I aksed, puzzled. "You're not a therapist. Are you?"

"No. No, I mean, my therapist is on Earth. In New New York. You could go to her."

"New New York? Wait. You're... you're seeing a therapist?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Yeah, I started going to see her when you were down... down in the old town."

"Oh. Is she any good?"

"I'unno. I've only been seeing her for a couple of months."

"Why are you seeing a therapist anyway?" I aksed him. "You're, you know, normal."

"Normal?"

"Yeah. You know. You've been dealing with all of this well. Really well. You're totally sane. Not, like, fucked up or anything."

"Yeah. So maybe she is helping."

I said, "No, I mean, you've been like this the whole time. Before I was down there."

"You think so?" he replied.

I looked up at him again. That threw me. The way he answered was totally doubtful.

"Amy... I miss her," he said. "I miss her so much. The way she looked at me. The way she sounded when she knew what to do. Which was always. I had trouble dealing with it. And then when... when you disappeared... I just didn't know what to do.

"So I went in to see Seriza once. We set up another session for the week after, but then you came back. So I postponed it, but then I went in again later. So since then, I've been going to see her whenever we go back to Earth."

"Really?" I aksed. "How come I didn't know?"

"I'unno," he said. "I guess I never mentioned it. I always went when you were, like, talking to Hermes or something. Anyway, why don't you just go see her? She could totally help you. I know she could."

"No, I can't," I said. "BW's already on its way."

"Isn't she going back to being female?"

"Yeah. It's going to drop me off on Stardust and then go in for the work. It's been putting it off for a while, you know."

"Amy," Fry whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Just... stay here. You can see Seriza. We can take turns with her every time we go to New New York. And you can stay here and run the clinic."

"I'd love to," I answered. "Really. I would totally love that. But I... I have to go."

"How come?"

I thought about telling him about the dreams I was receiving from the software me.

I thought about telling him about the voicemail she sent me. She had said, "Hey. Are you trying to get rid of me? You can't. I'm on a distributed network. I've got copies running on servers all around the Universe. Look, why don't you just come and talk to me? We both want the same things. We both want Fry to move past all this. We both want the clinic to be successful, and the mutants to be successful."

I thought about telling him about the time I hacked the software running on just about every model of surveillance camera that Momcorp made. And if I knew how to do that, surely the software me would know too.

But I couldn't bring myself to tell him any of that. Instead, I just said, "I'm sorry, Fry. I have to get away from everyone. I just have to spend some time far away, where nobody can get to me."

"But then I won't be able to get to you," he answered.

That's not true, I thought. You've always been able to get to me.

But then there was the sound of a rocket car settling to a landing outside.

"That must be BW," I said.

"Yeah," Fry answered.

I stood up, but kept my arms around him as I did so. "Let's get my bags," I said.

"You're already packed?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. You were serious about this."

"Yeah. Of course I was."

I kept holding on to him as we made our way up the stairs. Once we were in the bedroom, I held out one hand.

"No, I can get them," Fry said.

"No, you don't. I'll take one. You get the other."

He handed something over, something dangling from a long strap. It must have been the duffel bag. That would leave Fry with the suitcase.

"Yǒuqù de chún," I sighed.

"What?" he aksed.

"Forget it."

The doorbell rang when we were walking downstairs. When we got to the front door and opened it, I heard BW say, "Hey guys."

"Hi," Fry said.

"Ready?" BW aksed.

"Yeah."

"I can take that one," BW said.

"Sure," Fry answered. The other side of his body shifted around some, followed by a bit of a grunt from BW.

"Amy?" Fry aksed.

"Yeah?"

"Call me when you get there?"

I can't, I thought. I'm going to take the transmitter out of my wrist as soon as we leave. You know, so that she won't be able to trace me.

Instead, I said, "I don't think I'll be able to. I'll probably be, you know, off the network."

"Oh. Well... can you write me?"

"You mean, like, send a letter? Yeah, I guess. That technology still exists, right?"

"The technology to deliver things?" Fry aksed. "Yeah. Pretty sure it does."

"Well, you would know about that, you ancient delivery boy, you."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

There was a pause.

"Well, we should get going," I said. "Fry... take care of..." Then I trailed off.

"The clinic?" he aksed.

"Well, that too."

"Remi?" he said. "The Turangas? Our house? The mutants? The humble yet burgeoning society we're building in this fantastic locale?"

I looked up at him. "I was gonna say... um... take care of yourself."

"Oh."

I kissed him one more time. Then I began to pull away from him. But as I did so, I slid my arm across his shoulders, and then down his arm. I grabbed his hand and held tight.

"I'm... I'm coming back, Fry," I said.

"I love you, Amy."

"I love you. I'm coming back."

Finally, his hand slipped out of mine. BW led me to its car.

"Just the two bags?" it aksed me.

"Yeah." I lifted up the duffel bag. BW took it out of my hand, did something with it, and then closed a door. It led me around the car and opened another door. I got in.

BW entered on the other side a moment later. "Ready to go?" it aksed me.

"Yeah."

We took off. I looked down toward our house, even as I knew that there was no way I would have been able to see him, even if my eyes were working.

"So where am I going?" I aksed.

"I don't know," BW answered. "You said you didn't want any one person to know your whole route."

"Yeah."

"So I'm gonna take you to Stardust. You'll get on a ship there. Here's your ticket." BW handed me an envelope, and I turned it over in my hands.

"This... it's sealed," I said.

"Yeah," BW replied. "I don't even know where you're going. But Callie knows. She's the one who got you that ticket. She'll meet you when you get there and then take you on to the next leg. And then somebody she knows will take you to the next leg, and so on. Until you finally get there."

I was quiet for a while.

"BW?" I aksed.

"What's up?"

"How... how much trouble did you go to?"

"To set this up?" it aksed. "Not much. Just, like, called Callie, gave her the instructions. It's her and all of her forward contacts. They're the ones who are gonna relay you there. She knows people all over. Because she's in the foreign ministry, I guess."

"It must have been a lot of work," I said. "Why would she do all this? Why would you? It's not like... it's not like I've ever done anything for you."

There was silence in the car again. It was a long one this time.

"That's not true," BW whispered. "That's not true at all."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look... how long – ow!"

I let my fist, the one I had just punched BW's arm with, relax. "Stop saying look," I growled.

"Fine. How about listen? Ow! What the fuck's wrong with listen? Ow! Goddammit!"

"It just reminds me that I can't look." I folded my arms and stared ahead of us.

"You are impossible," BW snapped. "You know that, Amy? Absolutely impossible to deal with. You're irresponsible. You'll trust anybody who acts even a little nice to you. And you're, like, completely oblivious to everyone around you. You're in your own fantasy world, where everything's sunshine and ponies and everybody does shit for you. And it's not even because of the money. It's because you're famous. And cute. And you have powerful parents. Had, I guess. Sorry."

I heard BW take a breath. "But... well... when I saw you on Xmas Eve last year... you were different."

"So were you," I replied.

"Yeah," it scoffed. "Not as different as you were. It was... like... the complete complex conjugate. You were, like, completely out of it. Remember? You played Sheravone for, like, a day and a half straight. And then you slept for another day after that.

"Amy, you... you haven't been the same since then."

"Yeah," I said. "I'd agree with that."

"Amy?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you know what gender dysphoria is?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's, like, when you don't identify as whatever your body is. Like, if your body is female, but you're really a guy."

"Yeah. Basically."

"That's what you have," I said.

"No," BW answered. "Well, I guess I have it now. But... when I first became, you know, this, it was..."

After another pause, BW went on, "I was just, you know, not feeling confident. Not like myself. I thought maybe it was because my body was wrong. So I thought I'd try changing it. You know, like you'd change your hair, or your outfit. I thought it was the same thing.

"It's not, though. It's everything. It changes everything. Different mix of hormones. I think it changed my brain chemistry or something. How I looked at guys. How I looked at girls. How they looked at me. Shit, everybody looked at me weird, like they were all trying to figure out if I was male or female, and not even considering the possibility that I might be none of the above. It was like everybody was going around going, 'Does not compute!'. I was, like, waiting for people's heads to explode, or something. So then I went to see you."

"Me?" I aksed.

"Yeah."

"Why me?"

"I... I don't know. It's... there was always something about you. You, like, make me feel normal."

"Normal?" I aksed it. "Because I'm abnormal?"

"No. Well... maybe. I don't know. It's just... you would always put me at ease. Like, you weren't judging me the way everybody else was. Or whatever. Anyway, yeah, I went to see you on Xmas Eve. And you were... you were fucked up, Amy."

"I know. It was, like, not even two weeks after Leela died."

"Yeah." BW took another deep breath. "Look, I... shit, I said it again. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said. I wasn't feeling up to the effort of punching it any more.

"Amy... I don't know what was on that video. I don't have the slightest clue whether or not you did it. But I know you were trying to help. You thought, honestly and truly, that you could help her. That's what I always thought was so adorable about you. You always thought there was something you could do. You always thought things would work out."

I said, "BW... I haven't been like that for a long time."

"Yeah. That's the thing. You're so totally different now. I actually thought maybe it was gender dysphoria. But that's not it. You're... well, gender dysphoria is being, like, ill at ease with your body, your physical layout. But you're... I don't know. Amy, you're ill at ease with yourself, or something. Your mind. Mental dysphoria, maybe."

"Yeah, but I still make you feel normal, right?" I aksed.

"No," it responded. "You don't." The sadness in its voice was crushing. Devastating.

I was taken aback by that, but then after a moment, I said, "Sure I do. You're like, 'Wow, at least I'm not that fucked up.'"

"Amy, it's not funny. It's not funny at all. It... it breaks my heart."

I was pushed forward into my seatbelt as BW made a turn.

BW continued, "So when you called me and told me what you wanted to do... well, I was only too eager to help. You were right. You do need to do something."

"Yeah," I said. "Like when we left. I knew I had to get away from Fry. But I just couldn't let go of his hand."

"But why are you being so secretive?" BW aksed. "Like... I don't know where that ticket is for. And Callie doesn't know where you're going after that. Except for Callie and me, nobody knows where you're coming from. And none of us, including Callie and me, know where you're going after you leave us. We don't even know how many more legs you have on your trip."

"I don't either."

"And other than Callie and me, I think the others don't even know whom they're transporting. I mean... I could probably have found you a retreat or something where the press wouldn't come after you. You don't need to hop, skip, and jump halfway across the Universe, or however far you're going, in all those disguises."

Wait, I thought. She thinks it's because of the press? Yeah, that's a good excuse.

I replied, "I dunno. Some of them are pretty dogged. Especially that guy from the Sirius Times."

"Oh, yeah, him," BW said. "I remember him. I was like, 'Surely you're not from Sirius.' And he said, 'I am from Sirius. And don't call me Shirley.'"

A couple of minutes went by, and then BW continued, "I guess you're right, though. Can't be too careful. It just takes, like, one person sending a video, or even a picture, to Perez Hilton's head."

"Yeah."

I felt the turbulence of atmospheric reentry. After that was a lot of acceleration and deceleration.

"Lot of traffic in Schilling City today," BW said.

"Must be a nice day, though," I answered. "I can feel the sunlight."

"You can? Yeah. It does look like it's nice out."

We came to a stop before long. BW said, "We're here."

"Where?" I aksed as I got out of the car. "A spaceport?"

"Yeah. I'll take you to... there's, like, a woman in the access office that I've been talking to. I'll take you to meet her, and then she'll help you find your ship."

"Oh."

"Here's your duffel bag. I'll take your suitcase. Come on."

She put an arm over my shoulder and led me into the spaceport. The soundscape inside there was a familiar one: sentient beings of all sorts rushing past in all directions, announcements in all languages of flights arriving from or taking off to all ports.

But the constant hustle began to recede before long. Then we stopped somewhere. BW said to somebody, "We're here to see Nicole."

"I'm Nicole," the somebody responded. "Are you BW?"

"Yeah, My friend Amy here is travelling today."

"Of course," Nicole said. "Hello, Ms Wong. I'm Nicole. I'll get you checked in and get you to your ship."

A hand touched mine. I took hold of it and shook it. "Hi," I said. "Call me Amy."

"Certainly, Amy. I can take that suitcase, BW. So where are you off to today, Amy?"

"Um..." I said. I opened up the envelope.

BW abruptly said, "Wait, don't tell me."

"Oh, right," Nicole answered. "Secrecy, right?"

"Yeah."

"All right, well, it's right this way. Shall we, Amy?"

"Sure. Hey, BW?"

"Yeah, I'm... I'm here, Amy," BW said.

"Thanks for... you know... all this."

"Yeah. Hey... um... I don't think I really answered your question."

"What question?" I aksed.

"You know. Why I'm helping you. I..."

BW took my left hand; I had the duffel bag slung over that shoulder. It took a couple of fingers of my right hand, but I still held onto the envelope between my index finger and thumb.

"I can hold on to that for a second," Nicole said, as the envelope slipped out of my hand.

"Amy," BW went on, "we were talking about how you've changed. And... yeah, there's, like, the way you're uncomfortable with yourself. The... the dysphoria, or whatever. But at the same time, you're, like, doing things that you wouldn't have done before. Like everything with the mutants, and the clinic, and Epsilon Eridani 4, and all that. I don't want to make it sound like you wouldn't have done that before... you know..."

BW trailed off, but I knew what it meant. "You're right," I said. "I wouldn't have."

"Yeah. Well... you've done so much. But... yeah, you have to look after yourself. And the way you've been these last few weeks..."

"Self destructive," I said. "I know."

"That's not it," BW said.

"Yeah it is."

"It's not that bad," BW responded. "Not yet. But... yeah, I couldn't let you keep going like that. Fry and I have been talking a lot. He was... he was... he didn't know what to do. He said to me, like, 'It's like she's not even there. Like she's hollow, or... or she's empty.' So... when you came to me... well... I knew Fry would be devastated that you were going to be leaving him alone."

I said, "He won't be alone."

"No. He won't. I'll make sure of that, Amy. We all will."

"Thanks, BW."

It pulled me into a hug, long and tight.

"I... I don't even know what I should say," BW whispered. "I want to tell you to get better, but... well... that makes it sound like, you know, Bieber's disease or something."

I whispered back, "It's okay. You can tell me to get better."

"Okay." I felt a kiss on my cheek, and then BW added, "You get better, okay, Amy?"

"I will."

"Doesn't matter how long it takes. We'll wait for you."

"Good," I said. "And... you know... take care of Fry."

"I will. Of course I'll take care of him, Amy."

I stepped back a bit, keeping my arms around BW.

"See you," I said.

"Wait," BW said. "'See'?"

"Well, by the time I come back... hopefully they'll have figured out how to fix my vision."

"Yeah," it replied. "I'm sure they will."

"Yeah. So... see you, Bethany Weird."

It chuckled a bit. "See you, spaz girl."

BW held on to my hands for a moment, and then it was gone.

So then Nicole led me to the first ship. I was on that one for a couple of hours. After that, someone led me to the container I'm living in now. Apparently it's going to be transferred between freighters repeatedly. The person who took me here said that some of my other carers are even going to change the exterior a couple of times along the way.

I've had nothing to do in here but listen to music and think.

I don't quite know where I'm going. It could be a retreat, or a treatment facility. A rehab clinic, maybe.

I don't quite know what I'm supposed to do when I get there. I would guess that I'll be spending a lot of time talking. I'm not looking forward to rehashing everything that's happened in the last year or so.

I mean, I probably should. Fry has been getting help already, so I guess that means I can do it too. And the therapist will probably aks me about things that happened before that too. Probably all the way back to the thing with my father and my uncle.

But I really don't want to spend hours at a time talking about the thing on Canopus 5. I've seen it in my mind already. About a quadrillion times so far, and counting.

And apparently I couldn't get rid of the software me. She's still out there, on a distributed network, she said.

While I was listening to music and thinking, I realised that I needed to send her a message.

It's too late now, of course. I already took the transmitter out of my wrist, and even if I could, transmitting something would give her something to trace. She'd surely be able to figure out where I am.

But I wish I had sent it to her before I left.

Do whatever you want to me. If you're going to perform any kind of insane experiment, just do it on me. Leave the mutants alone, and leave Fry alone.

Leave Fry the fuck alone.