JaKaelath sat on a cold, rusted metal bench, her body tense, every muscle coiled with a mix of dread and morbid fascination. Across from her, in the flickering light of an oil lamp, Kragon was a whirlwind of focused energy. He was hunched over the disassembled pieces of the Geeryo Guard, his hands moving with an engineer’s practiced grace as he rewired circuits and adjusted components. Often stopping to reference his mountain of salvaged books or running to grab another. He had always been this way, a brilliant tinkerer, a man who saw the world as a series of puzzles to be solved. But now, this enthusiasm felt alien and deeply unsettling. The machine was an abomination, and her boyfriend was rebuilding it with a smile on his face.

Dukota had thrown a tantrum when told that Kragon would be building it instead of him. JaKaelath thought that at least seeing that was one good thing to come from all this.

He looked up, his face smudged with grease but lit with a boyish grin. “Look at this, JaKaelath,” he said, his voice full of pride. He pointed at a small, salvaged screen he had jury-rigged to the Android. The display flickered to life, showing a rudimentary, animated hologram of the machine. 

“This is the real genius of the thing,” he explained. “The parts actually help you reassemble them. Isn't that crazy? It is helping me reassemble itself. This monitor shows how much of it is completed. The thing has subroutines to help it achieve its programmed goal, even if that means building copies of itself. "

She stared at the lifeless hulking figure, an anger building in her chest before saying, "And what is its programmed goal?" 

His enthusiastic look fades. "Well, it has a few, including protecting Geeryo personnel, helping with assembling, building, but then he looks down and confesses, "but its main goal is the subjugation of the Ponu". 

You know,” she said, her voice low and serious, “Kallian’s strongest wish is for that...machine to be used against those women in the cave, to cause them to be frozen in panic as it marches through killing each one. 

"They have their Dowath," Kragon counters. JaKaelath just looks at him.

"I mean, it's the least we can have for security, they are our ENEMY JaKaleath. We need this to win the war". 

“Why do you think he chose you to build it?” she pressed, the words came out raw and painful, and she had not mentioned it until now for fear of hurting his pride. “He knew you were the closest person to me. You’re smart, yes, but there are others he could have chosen. Dukota practically bragged about being chosen to build it. He did it to mess with me, Kragon. He did it to mess with us.”

She continues, "When it's built, what if it attacks me?". 

His look was unbelievably as if he had never even considered the possibility. Kragon’s face fell, his enthusiasm draining away, leaving him looking tired and haunted. He set down his tools and came to sit beside her on the bench. “I would never allow this,” he said, his voice earnest, his hand reaching for hers. “This android… I would never let it be used on you. Just on… other… Ponu.”

His words, meant to reassure her, had the opposite effect. The distinction he drew, the moral line he was willing to cross, was a chasm JaKaelath couldn't ignore. She pulled her hand away, the air in the tent suddenly thick and suffocating. She needed to breathe, to escape this conversation, this horrifying truth. She stumbled out into the open air, her bare feet meeting the cold dirt of the camp floor. It was only then that she remembered she was still wearing the Ponu-suit. Whispers and gasps met her, the scavengers’ contempt and curiosity felt heavy, and she retreated back into the tent.

Kragon was standing where she had left him, his shoulders slumped. “JaKaelath, listen,” he pleaded, his voice soft but filled with desperation. “You’re not a Ponu. Not in your mind. Which is what really counts.” He took a tentative step toward her, his expression a clumsy attempt at comfort. “To be honest, I’m kind of happy for you. This is your true self.”

The words, meant to soothe her, were a fresh wound. She was a Ponu in her blood, in her bones, and now, in her heart. She was a woman who had seen kindness and community and a kind of fierce hope she never knew existed. And Kragon, with his simple pronouncements, was trying to tell her that her true self was a lie.

That night, Kragon had a dream. It was about something that happened a couple of years ago. JaKaelath had come to him, excited to tell him what had happened. She had gone swimming in a river without her clothes on. When she reached the other bank of the river, she was shocked to see three Ponu standing there looking down at her, smiling. The leader offered her food and clothing and said she could come with them, that they must hurry because scavengers were in the area. She told them that she must get her suit first, that it was down the bank. She ran and never looked back. Now she was laughing to Kragon at how funny it was that the Ponu mistook her for one of them. He only remembers looking blankly at her, not laughing at all.

That night, JaKaelath also had a dream. It was of the Geeryo Guard and many more like it, marching through the cave, overwhelming the Dowath and the Ponu women cowering in fear with no escape as it slaughtered them all. She saw in her dream Francesca desperately trying to find anywhere to hide, the doctor running, Marcela, her usual giddiness turned to terror with her wife Lana. She dreamt of Cassandra, dying while calling out for Kaela, not knowing she had helped hasten their end. She dreamt of Kallian standing supreme, laughing.