At the moment, he agreed with her. So many good women had died in the service of creating a creature whose only purpose was to kill. The thought of it felt like it had snapped the wires in his artificial bran and displaced him in such a way that made him feel untethered from his surroundings—that made him feel like he was floating away from his own body.

“So…” Rebecca muttered. “I hear you took part in the battle.”

Yair was silent for a moment, and then he replied, “That’s right.”

Rebecca shouldered her way past him on her way to the sink to wash used dishes—shoving him aside. She ran the water, her back facing him, and then continued, “And I hear that you got your ass kicked by an inferior robot. So what the fuck was the point in your creation?”

As she picked at his insecurity, he decided it was best to continue staying silent. He chopped potatoes in a matter of seconds with his quick reflexes, and found himself feeling particularly… defensive, for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. He felt like he was under fire from an enemy robot, and had to dodge or he would be broken into pieces.

The awkward silence pervaded for three minutes, and then, finally Rebecca spun around and spat, “Well? What do you have to say to that, you metal monstrosity!” she shouted. “Your one purpose is to save as many of our women as possible, and you couldn’t fulfill that purpose! We shouldn’t have lost any women in that last battle, but now, we are mourning several!”

Yair just stared at her, having not words to counteract hers. He wore a solemn frown, his insides frayed and damaged at her words, and his face not conveying the hurt that he, himself, could barely comprehend. To Rebecca, it looked like he was mocking her.

“Zironist’s Scripture warns about the creation of metal creatures! It states that they are fireless creatures, who taint the person of those who make them—that is why only mutants are permitted to make them. But it’s not just that; I feel tainted just by standing in the same room as you. You do nothing but radiate rays of toxicity and paint me with your poison.” Rebecca hissed the last word the same way a snake would.

He dropped what he was doing, leaving the room before the poisonous words could hurt him further. He marched through the mess hall wordlessly and quickly, hoping none of the women would speak to him or even notice him. He wanted to go unnoticed; he wanted to blend in. He wanted to be one of them, but he knew he couldn’t be.

He didn’t know where to go after he had left. He stood in the hallway with his fingered hand clenched, gazing at the floor angrily. His thoughts brought him to a comforting memory; making sand castles with Nikodemus. He asked a woman who was passing by him in the hallway, “Excuse me, do you know where the Last Man is?”

“He’s resting in his room. Living quarters, third door on your left.” The woman answered hastily, and then ran away from him as if he were a predator.

He watched her go, wishing he could tell her that he was safe and would never harm her, but knowing that she wouldn’t believe him. He turned away, hanging his head.

Yair marched up the stairs, suddenly painfully aware of how loud his metal feet sounded on the staircase. Upon arriving at the top of the stairwell, he trudged over to Nikodemus’ door and paused in front of it, wanting to knock, but feeling apprehensive about it. After collecting himself, he knocked.

“Come on in.” Nikodemus’ voice rang from inside the door. Yair creaked it open, and was greeted to the Last Man, sitting in bed. There were black circles under his eyes, and he was looking paler than ever. Yair was not a creative creature, but the Last Man looked decidedly ghostly in his eyes; piercing blue eyes offset against pale skin and tangled, messy hair. Nikodemus’ eyes lit up with relief and disappointment. “Oh, it’s just you, Yair. I was expecting Ellia. Well, welcome to my humble abode. It probably smells because I haven’t been able to shower since yesterday.

"Luckily, I have no ability to smell, so it does not bother me.” Yair said, smiling, clasping his hands behind his back as best as he was able to.

Nikodemus chuckled at that. “You can count yourself lucky. My daughter was just in here, and she was not only offended by my words, but my smell as well. She didn’t say she was, but I caught her wrinkling her nose.”

Yair continued smiling, but did not laugh. He merely stared at Nikodemus gratefully, appreciating the fact that he could crack a smile, even if his joke went over the robot’s head. Yair struggled to find the right words to say to Nikodemus. He struggled with the fact that he had emotions in the first place, and struggled even more with trying to express them.

“So why are you in here anyway, Yair? To observe me while I am at my palest and ugliest?” Nikodemus continued to joke.