I go to find Mark. I find him climbing a rope in the training room. He sees me and he jumps down. 

"Hi, Luca," he chimes amicably.

"Hi Mark. How did you train to be a nurse?" 

"There are a lot of textbooks in the medical equipment room. Do you want to check them out? Start with the basic chemistry and biology textbooks and then work your way up. We need a good doctor around these parts. People always get injured."

"Thank you so much!" I almost shout. I am so ecstatic. 

I run up to the medical equipment room and dig through the piles of textbooks stacked on top of each other, piled at the bottom of a counter. When I find a book that's the right level for me I pull it out and sit down near a window. 

It's so interesting. So very interesting. I find myself immersed in it entirely. I've never gotten the chance to learn without the constant weight of fear heavy on me. It feels so good. So mesmerizing. I suppose that now that I'm in the resistance I can learn without pressure or fear. I can learn all that I can. 

It feels beautiful. 

We come together for dinner again and there are jokes and laughter. There is reminiscing on the sacrifices of previous fights. There is serious, solemn remembrance of fallen comrades. And there are plans for a future without differentiation and inequality. 

The plans are so amazing. I've always dreamed and planned about a future free of the lines and confines society has created. But those dreams seemed like only dreams. Until now. 

"So we'll stop producing synths," Rachel is explaining, "because no child deserves to grow up in one of those robotic horror stories that are training centres. Never again. Present-day synths will be able to get married and have children if they want." I smile at Ari. "And we'll all come together to make decisions. Like the resistance already does now. Except it will be more organized." There are cheers all around. 

After dinner we clean up the house. And we all do it together and it's done in a flash. We all cook together to make some simple meals for tomorrow. The kitchen is so crowded and bustling. 

We settle down to sleep. And I think of what a good day this was. 

I'm still haunted by my past. It still seeps down into my soul like aggressive poison. I still carry the sorrow and the shame of years and years. And I believe that I will be carrying it for a while. Maybe forever. But I can feel myself start to heal already. And that's an act of revenge. Healing is the best revenge. But real revenge is pretty beautiful too.

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