Malin came from another continent, not using a plane or a boat like normal people. She couldn’t do it that way. Her condition didn’t allow it. She had to use the Auriga, the same ones she’d stolen from Simon.

The passage from her country to this one wasn’t pleasant, and even so, she crossed it. She did it because she had to, because of the promise she had made to Juzo.

Malin had assured her partner she would take care of Uri if something happened to him, but it was more than clear that Uri was not in a hurry to help her keep her promise. And as long as things were that way, she would have to go through the dire experience of breaking through the space-time barrier over and over again until he came to his senses. Malin couldn’t stay long in Proxima; besides Broga and the mercenaries, there were other things she had to watch out for, or as Uri had put it: ‘Other vultures hovering nearby.’

Yet her promise outweighed any vulture and the electrical scourges she received, and she had told her protégé that she would be a stone in his shoe until he knew how to control his powers.

They had tried it earlier that week, going to a desert plain on the outskirts of the city to use their powers with no one seeing them; no trees nearby to prevent Uri from setting them on fire. But it all ended that same day when he, practicing the power of flight, lost control and fell to the ground, luxating his finger.

Even so, Malin did not stop insisting. And for some reason, she had the illusion that, this time, things would change and that Uri would agree to restart training. ‘Wait with hope and you will receive mirages,’ her father used to say; and she had to accept that when the old man was right, the old man was right.

When she entered the room and found Uri asleep, sprawled out in bed with the television on, like a college student with so much revelry on him, he didn’t even have time to undress before falling to the ground, she had a kind of epiphany. She remembered the battles she had taken part in; thought of the enemies she had defeated and silenced, and realized she’d survived those trials only to become the nanny of a stubborn child.

Got damn! If they had even knocked her unconscious for days, and all to help Juzo!

She took a step and heard a slight creak; she had just set her foot on a holographic card. She brushed it with the toe of her boot to see if she hadn’t broken it, but the magazine was still active. The cover image was projected onto the card. She recognized it, had seen it before, that Friday. Picked it up; it was Loud’s last issue. There was Uri, half-naked, younger, showing himself on the cover. ‘The best models of the decade,’ announced the magazine. Malin took a deep breath and returned it to the floor.

How foolish had she been to believe that Uri would give up on his lifestyle so easily, having only had a couple of run-ins with the dangers from the other side of the world? Some people tripped over the same stone and would continue to do so until the day of their death. Uri loomed as one of them, and she knew it from the moment she first saw him.

That Friday, as soon as Uri stepped into the elevator and tried to get her attention, Malin soon realized the stark difference in personality between the twins.

That Friday she had crossed from her country into this one, risking her life to follow Juzo, but the disappointment of discovering that Uri was a vain fool had darkened her path, as much as it did now.

‘Wait with hope and you will receive mirages.’

Maybe Uri wasn’t the only one in that room who tripped over the same stone.

Why were Uri’s attitudes surprising? Did she expect him to be as intense a fighter, as devoted to a cause, as Juzo had been?

She looked at the holo-magazine on the floor, then at Uri. What was sleeping there was nothing more than a product of his environment, as much as she was hers.

However, Juzo had died so that his brother might inherit supernatural power, and that brother, instead of honoring the fallen, was letting the days go by, sleeping and turning like a sleepwalker; with no intention of training, contenting himself with venting his excess energy from time to time and wasting the time the other had bought with blood.

Enough was enough!

Detaching the X-shaped elastic shoulder straps, Malin removed the small folded thruster she carried on her back, leaving it on the floor. She’d see what she’d do with it. Then she grabbed the bead chain, pulled it down, and the morning glow entered the room.

Sleepy, Uri shielded his eyes from the light with his hand.

“You again,” he muttered. “Do you people not know what ‘leave me alone’ means?”

He sat on the bed; his hair was messed up as if he’d been pulling it while sleeping. He looked up and found her, with her arms crossed, dead serious, like a counselor disappointed with a troubling inmate. Next to her, on the floor, was one of those little chrome rectangles; one of those folded thrusters.

“You came equipped,” he pointed out. “You keep stealing property from your government.”

“To train your flight,” she said.

Then Uri sank his shoulders and showed her his bandaged finger.

“We’ll do it when I can move it without it hurting, okay?”

She didn’t say a word.

Uri checked the hour on his phone: 10 a.m. He’d slept for almost twelve hours. Great! He rubbed his face to wake himself up and got into the bathroom next to the bed. When he saw she was coming after him, he shooed her out with a gesture. Malin stepped outside; and he locked himself in, slamming the door shut.

Her hands turned into fists, and her lips pursed, holding back a torrent of insults.

The door opened again. Uri went out in his underwear, grabbed a new change of clothes from the closet, and went back to the bathroom.

From what she could see at that slight crossing, Malin rectified her assessment. The Uri on the cover of the magazine and the one of today were the same people, but time had passed, and that physical care was no longer his work priority.

“You know the way out,” he said, closing the door in her face.

“I won’t go until we train, Uri.”

“In that case, I’ll go.”

“Go where?”

“Where you won’t go.”

Malin heard the shower water draining off. She walked in circles in front of the door, looking here and there, hearing the thick foams of soap and shampoo hitting the shower floor and going into the drain. She found Loud’s card on the floor again, still with its holographic image open, and kicked it.

I’ll get the best out of you, dumbass; even if I have to chase after you, night and day, she thought. We’ll see how happy you are having me as your roommate.

Then, she took a deep breath; she had to speak softly.

“By the way,” she said, raising her voice a little so he could hear her. “My back injuries are healing fast thanks to a pill I got in Markabia. If you want, I—”

“Are you still there?” Uri barked.

“I was thinking about sharing my pills with you—I mean, for your finger; but you can go to hell,” she answered. Uri said something she couldn’t hear clearly. “What’s that?!”

“I can’t hear what you’re saying!” he shouted.

A moment later, Uri came out of the bathroom partially clothed, surrounded by water vapor, and found her sitting next to the dresser with her legs crossed and her feet on the bed.

“You really got dressed up behind closed doors!” she pointed out. “Didn’t picture you like a shy guy.”

“I need you out, please,” Uri asked on the verge of exploding. “Please. I need to be alone.”

“Sorry. I won’t go until I’m positive you can protect yourself.”

“Protect ‘myself’? What are you talking about? I’m the one who took care of that Simon guy, remember?! I know how to throw a Fotia. I don’t need you, Malin.”

“Knowing how to drive a car doesn’t make you a rally racer, and a truck doesn’t turn you into a truck driver, Uri.”

“See? That is what you don’t understand, Malin. I’ve never meant to be the rally racer nor the truck driver you’re talking about; that’s an idea you have stuck in your head.”

“That’s not an idea. We’re talking about your security; about your life! We’re talking about the time you earned for living, thanks to Juzo’s sacrifice!”

“Do you think this is easy for me?” Uri sighed; went to the balcony, took air, skimmed the wall of skyscrapers he had around, and got back inside. “You can’t expect me to put up with all these changes overnight, y’know?”

“You talk as if it were a wardrobe change or a new job,” she said. “If you didn’t notice, there are no refunds here.”

“Malin, your examples and metaphors suck; did you know that?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Uri pointed at himself. “Of course I know there’re no refunds here,” he said. “Everything keeps reminding me of it every time I shave or I look in the mirror, in case I forgot. I know I’m way past the point of no return, that every moment I’m far away from the shore. But that doesn’t mean I have to put up with your presence. Also, do you know what other presence I shouldn’t have to put up with? Juzo’s!” He pointed at his own head. “Juzo, who’s stuck right in here, like a freaking chip I cannot unplug. I didn’t ask for you people to come here, to tell me about the plans of a bunch of lunatics; nor I did ask you to bring a freaking android to my freaking door. Damn, I almost died!”

Malin showed her teeth; the image of Juzo was burning in her eyes. “You, stupid, selfish man! You almost died? Well, there was someone who did die!”

“I know!” Uri’s eyes were glassy and red. “You don’t have to remind me of it either!”

“So, stop being such a drama queen, Uri, and realize this isn’t only about you! Now you have immense power, and guys like Simon won’t stop knocking on your freaking door just because you stayed locked in your room, listening to music out loud and playing the sad teenager role!”

Malin snorted, furious, and announced the end of the discussion with a gesture. The plan was to upset him, gal; not that he upsets you, she said to herself and went out to the balcony; she needed to calm down.

“A freaking chip you can’t unplug from your head,” she repeated. “That’s a neat metaphor; I’ll give you that.”

“Way better than yours. A truck driver? Huh, please.”

Malin nodded.

“Look, Malin,” Uri added, “I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I appreciate you’ve come to protect me, and that you’ve kept your promise to my brother with such devotion. But I’m letting you off the hook. You can go back in peace to your place.”

Malin shook her head. “It’d be better for you to get used to seeing two plates on the table, pretty boy; because I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.”