The town was dead quiet as we walked through its streets, the kind of quiet that seeps into your bones. It had to be around three in the morning, which explained the silence, but that didn't make navigating any easier. With no traffic, no people, and barely any light, we were effectively wandering around blind.
Eagleton looked like every other small rural American town I'd seen in pictures or passing glimpses. Suburban neighborhoods stretched out in every direction, cloned in neat rows of modest homes. The only landmarks were the occasional two- or three-story building, standing like half-hearted attempts at grandeur. I'd never been to the Midwest, but suburbia wasn't unfamiliar. I'd been desensitized to its clean monotony long ago.
The twins, though, watching them was like watching pilgrims step into the promised land.
I don't think they really understood what I meant when I explained the whole "multiversal travel" situation or the general premise of the Worm universe. Maybe the idea of an alternate world where humans were alive and had superpowers was just a bit too much to process, I don't know. I had the distinct sense I could've told them pigs could fly and they'd nod solemnly, agreeing without hesitation, simply because I was human.
Still, it was hard not to laugh at the way their awe lit up the dark. Hours ago, they'd been carving through machines like commandos, all precision and power. Now, Popola was swiveling her head around so fast she looked like she was trying to scan the entire street at once. Devola, by contrast, was more restrained—her eyes flitting from window to lawn before quickly darting back to me, like a kid sneaking cookies and hoping not to get caught.
"Have you guys never seen a neighborhood before?" I asked, my voice the first real sound to break the stillness around us.
"No…" Devola replied softly, and there was real wonder in her voice. At the same time, I saw her swat Popola's shoulder, trying to get her sister to stop gawking like a tourist. "Most of the human world was devastated with White Chlorination Syndrome's spread across Earth. We've seen images, of course, in our caretaker records. We even used to maintain files on architecture and infrastructure for the projected human resurgence after the Gestalt Project. But it's just…"
"Alive," Popola cut in, finishing the thought. "It's strange not seeing ruins. Not just refitted houses or half-collapsed ruins being used as camps. A lot of the old-world structures were preserved thanks to Maso, but it's not the same. It's nothing like seeing houses that humans live in!"
"You two would lose it if I brought you to a big city," I said, hands in my pockets as we walked. "New York's got people from everywhere—East, West, every corner of the globe. It's a mess, but a beautiful one."
"Would we meet a lot of different humans in this town too?" Popola asked, practically vibrating with excitement. She was trying to keep her voice steady, her body language composed, but the enthusiasm leaked out in every little twitch.
She didn't get an answer—she got a swat. Devola shot her a glare.
"We're not here on a tour," she snapped, her tone clipped and serious.
It made me grin. For all their worship of humanity, the twins still squabbled like siblings on a road trip. They could talk about purpose and function all they wanted, but at the end of the day, they were just like any other pair of sisters. Devola's tone had that well-practiced older sibling exhaustion. And judging by the pout settling on Popola's face, she was used to being on the receiving end of it.
"What exactly are we looking for, Mas—Issac?" Devola corrected herself quickly, but the pause was just long enough to catch.
"Anything that looks like a shop selling food," I said. "Doesn't have to be fancy. A sign, a window display, anything."
Truth be told, I wasn't eager to wander too far from the door. If it came down to it, I'd steal supplies. Not ideal, but I'd do it. That said, if I could keep my nose clean in this universe, I'd rather not have the local version of Superman kicking in my ribs over a granola bar.
I shook the thought away and kept walking, letting the conversation drift.
It felt good to just… breathe for a bit. To answer their endless stream of questions about every object we passed—flags, mailboxes, lawnmowers—as if I were guiding two alien exchange students through suburbia. None of the questions had any real weight to them, but the normalcy of it all helped ease the pressure sitting at the back of my mind. Worrying wouldn't solve anything tonight.
——
It was so exciting. Too exciting. The past twenty-four hours had been so packed with revelations that she felt like she was going to short-circuit from sheer emotional overload.
Popola had met a living human. A real one. Then nearly got him killed. Almost failed again—again. But he'd told her it was okay. That it wasn't their fault. Except… she knew it was her fault. That was etched into every system command, every subroutine, every override she couldn't shake. But if he said it wasn't—
Later, Popola. She could spiral later. Right now, she was in another universe, and there were living humans here.
She spun toward a new structure just coming into view. Flatland, strange shapes were scattered across it. It didn't look like a residential zone. Everything was cleared out around it, almost deliberately. Was it a staging area? She should ask.
No. Wait. Yes. She should ask. To better serve humanity, she needed to understand their environment. That was the purpose of androids like her—not being nosy. Definitely not.
"Issac," she said, trying to sound casual even as his name nearly made her mind skip with joy. "What's that?"
She already knew he wasn't entirely comfortable with their behavior. With the way she and Devola offered themselves so readily as a distraction. He hadn't liked that—had brushed it off. She didn't fully understand why. Serving humanity was their purpose. But if something about it made him uncomfortable, then she'd adapt. Devola, on the other hand, hadn't picked up on any of it. Still hovering close, acting like a priss! She had a half mind to tell her sis to ease up.
But he hadn't told Devola to stop, though either…If it was a human quirk she read wrong, she couldn't risk being wrong. Best to straddle the line.
"Oh, that?" Issac smiled, and something about the curve of his lips sent a shiver down her whole body. "That's a playground. A public space where human children go to play. Bunch of structures designed for fun, mostly."
Children. Human children. The phrase alone made her stutter. No child had been born in their world for centuries. The image that formed in her mind—tiny humans running, laughing, climbing—hit like a blow to her chest. The idea that there was a world where humanity thrived enough to have spaces just for joy nearly brought tears to her eyes.
"Do you wanna try?" Issac's voice cut through her thoughts.
She blinked. She really did want to try…
"Wait, shouldn't we be looking for food?" Her brow furrowed.
He waved it off. "We've got time to kill. Everything we passed was closed. A town like this probably doesn't have a 24/7 store. We'll have to wait till morning anyway."
She hesitated, her chip processes grinding beneath her calm face. Duty told her to push back, to insist they search more thoroughly. But the pull of lost human culture tugged hard. Devola was already giving her the look. But Issac had said it was fine…
"First one to the swings—I'll push."
That was it. That was the final nail. She dashed toward the indicated contraption, barely a delay in her motion. Behind her, Devola took just a moment too long to weigh the decision. By then, Popola was already seated, hands gripping the cold metal of the swing's chains.
Issac stepped in behind her, hands settling firmly on her shoulders before giving a gentle but steady push. The moment the swing started moving, she let out a bright, uncontrollable laugh. The kind of laugh she hadn't heard from herself in what felt like centuries. Devola looked thoroughly exasperated from her perch nearby, arms crossed and expression flat, but Popola couldn't have cared less.
The swing itself was slow, barely lifting her at first. But the significance wasn't in the speed—it was in the moment. In the feel of a real human pushing her. A human interacting with her not out of necessity or command structure, but because he wanted to.
She glanced back and stuck out her tongue at her sister, who finally gave in with a reluctant roll of the eyes. Issac kept pushing, each arc carrying her a little higher, and the pressure in her chest—not pain, but something brighter—built into full-blown joy.
Devola finally joined in, slipping into the swing beside her. She tried to keep her cool, tried to act like this was beneath her, but the slight upward curl of her mouth gave her away. Popola's smugness lasted exactly one swing before her sister's push picked up speed, matching pace and then surpassing it in a silent contest.
Even so, Popola couldn't feel anything but happiness. Even as she tilted back, swung forward, and finally went too far. Her balance shifted and she felt herself slip from the seat.
The world tilted as she flew through the air. She could see the quiet and empty streets. She caught a brief glimpse of a woman walking in the distance wearing a fedora, before gravity took her back down.
She hit the ground with a soft thud, breath leaving her in a whoosh, but laughter followed right after. Giggling, she rolled onto her back, staring up at the night sky like it was a dream.
She heard the swings going into motion. And saw her sister taking her seat!
Betrayal of the highest order!
She giggled as she went to show her sister a taste of her own medicine.