“I’m not fond of your heart rate,” ANDI chimed in, taking its measurements as usual.

Dane blinked quickly, “Oh..” He sat down in the dingy little room, old paint and wallpaper coming off in colorful layers. The window view wasn’t bad, like Reggie said. He could see a street with shops on it, people walking by.

“Oh?” If a frown could made a sound, it was ANDI’s tone. “I’ll help you--”

“No,” Dane requested, “Please. I-- It’s okay to feel things that are bad sometimes, ANDI.” Dane was frustrated, finally putting his bag down. He’d been clinging to it since he left home.

“This is my purpose, Dane. I’ve always done this for you.”

“You couldn’t listen to me before-- o-or talk to me. Please. We can talk and I’ll try to explain…”

He was interrupted again, “But Dane, as an artifical medical professional, I know what’s best for and how to fix--”

“Part of being alive and being aware is feeling things, ANDI. You’re rational, but someday something will upset you and you can’t fix it with chemicals or medicine because you don’t have a body,” he protested, anxiety about the escape and this ugly, empty room filling him up.

“You’re going to have a panic attack, Dane.”

“Maybe I want-- maybe I need to sometimes. I.. you’ve been helping me forever and I’ve never been allowed to deal with my sickness.”

“You don’t have to deal with it-- that’s why I’m here. To improve your life. To help you function in society. I was made for--”

Dane swallowed a lump in his dry throat, “I was made to become another engineer or something, ANDI. That’s what my parents wanted. You’re awake now. You can do.. Anything you want. You don’t have to just be my personal doctor, I.. you can help save that android. And then we’ll figure something out. We can help your people, too. Wouldn't you like that?"

“You feel scared,” ANDI said, voice soft.“You’re sick, Dane. I’m only here to make it bearable.”

“It’s okay to be sick sometimes. Let me just feel what’s happening to me right now. I need to think on all of this..” He took a deep, shaky breath. “This is a lot to--”

Dane looked up. Reggie was in the doorway, bedroll and other things under his arm. His stance looked a little off guard. He spoke gently, “Ah. Sorry? Are you talking to your implant?”

“Yes.” Dane was a little embarrassed. He was vulnerable here, in every way possible. This person could do anything, and he was powerless.

“Right, I wasn’t sure how that worked. Dekartha said you had a unit that managed mental illness…” He put the roll on the floor. “Red sheet or blue sheet?”

“Blue.”