\nI pulled into the strip mall parking lot, and my implant disengaged, bringing me out of autopilot. Probably for the best that my conscious mind hadn\u2019t made the forty-minute drive. As I reengaged, so did the adrenaline, as if the surprising, alarming phone had just ended.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe awning over the door was green, faded to yellow. West Allis Conscious Shelter. The kind of place I had always ignored, as if that could save me from ending up here someday.\n<\/p>\n
\nDeep breaths. When I heard Theo was in there, I knew I had to come. Even if I hadn\u2019t heard from him in years.\n<\/p>\n
\nVerne, the woman who called me, met me at the door and led me inside. The cinder-block corridor of plexiglass-fronted cells was unnervingly quiet, but each cell was occupied. In one, the patient walked repeatedly into a wall. In another, their fingers writhed in the air, typing at a keyboard perhaps. Another seemed to stir a pot that wasn\u2019t there.\n<\/p>\n
\nMaybe on a subconscious level, I thought coming to Theo\u2019s aid this time would be like busting him out of jail after the protest, or holding his hand at the clinic. As if I could swoop in and make everything right. This series of tableaus dispelled that. I didn\u2019t want to see him like this, but it was too late to back out now. If Verne had called me, it had to mean she hadn\u2019t reached anyone else.\n<\/p>\n
\nTheo was in the last cell on the right. He had a bowl cut, like I remembered. His facial hair had finally grown in. He wore a stained, scuffed suit that hung off bony shoulders.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHoly\u2026no\u2026\u201d I muttered under my breath at the sight.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThey were probably on autopilot for a few days before anyone found them,\u201d Verne said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHim,\u201d I said. \u201cAs of seven years ago, anyway.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI got some food and water into him, and a fuel pill for his implant.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nAs we watched him through the plexiglass, Theo kept moving around the cell, in some elaborate pattern. Like a bee guiding its hive to a flower.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHe must be exhausted,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ll give him a little sedative too. Just wanted you to get a good look first. The only way he gets out of this loop is if he can finish doing what he told his implant to do,\u201d Verne said. \u201cI take it you weren\u2019t there when it happened?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo, I haven\u2019t seen him in years.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBut he had your number in his wallet.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI blinked, surprised. \u201cI guess so.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAlright then, tell me what he was into back then.\u201d There was a glint in her eye. A drive.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe used to hang out a lot in college,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cUh huh,\u201d Verne said, smirking. I blushed. How I felt was so obvious to her; had it been obvious to Theo? I\u2019d always wondered.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt wasn\u2019t like that,\u201d I said. \u201cI met him before he was openly trans, and I had just parted ways with my Bible study group. We were both figuring out who we were going to be. I remember watching direct-to-video action movies, listening to Italian folk music, drinking soju together\u2026\u201d The memories were surprisingly hard to distill. \u201cI don\u2019t know what he\u2019d be doing now. Certainly not this.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cPeople often use autopilot to get through something they don\u2019t exactly want to do,\u201d Verne said. She laid a hand on my arm. \u201cKeep pulling on that thread. I\u2019ll be right back.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe ducked into a supply closet, and I heard a clatter as she pulled boxes off the shelves. She brought out exercise equipment, video game floor pads, an oversized piano mat. One by one, we tried sliding these under Theo\u2019s feet as he moved around the cell. Nothing fit; the props only made him stumble.\n<\/p>\n
\nI could feel the pressure of exhaustion and frustration behind my eyes, and noticed the time, well past midnight already.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo luck yet, but we\u2019ll figure it out, you wait and see,\u201d she said, but it sounded rehearsed, unsmiling.\n<\/p>\n
\nOn my way out, I walked back down the corridor of dimly lit cells, past all the other patients, and I tried not to take those words as an impossible promise.\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\n
\n\u201cAre you sure you don\u2019t want a professional doing this?\u201d I asked, catching Theo\u2019s eye in his dorm room\u2019s bathroom mirror. The clippers turned on with a hum.\n<\/p>\n
\nTheo sighed in the desk chair we\u2019d rolled onto the tile floor. \u201cWhat other option is there?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe hair stylist he used to go to wouldn\u2019t give him the cut he was after. Allegedly, the woman just didn\u2019t do buzz cuts. I gathered that it was something more personal than that.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThe barber shop I go to is different. Whenever you feel up for going, I really don\u2019t think it\u2019ll be an issue. The guy there\u2026\u201d The barber was glad to take anybody\u2019s money, I thought, but I stopped short, worried about how that would sound. \u201c…he sticks to the job. I\u2019ll go with you, if you want.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nTheo averted his eyes. \u201cMaybe once I have a boy cut to start with.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOkay. The clipper-number-four special it is. Just thought I should warn you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nWith that, I started shearing off chunks of his unkempt hair, letting it fall to the newspapers on the floor. I started with the sides and back, just in case he had second thoughts, before mowing the top of his head.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhere the hair was buzzed short, I could feel warmth through his scalp. On the top of his head, a little left of center, I felt the telltale bump and scarring, much like mine. Where the implant gets installed.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI think your scar is fresher than mine. When did you get it?\u201d I asked, as I kept cleaning up the edges of his buzz cut.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cA year and a half ago,\u201d he said. \u201cI was falling behind in school, but my parents are super orthodox. They said I ought to be able to learn everything the boring way, like they did. All the standard bullshit anti-implant arguments. How I\u2019ll be paying for fuel pills for the rest of my life. How if I only learn to do something on autopilot, I\u2019ll have to do it on autopilot forever. As if I\u2019ll ever need to consciously do calculus, right? So I arranged to have it done in Tel Aviv, while I was there on my birthright trip.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI clicked off the clippers. \u201cHow\u2019d they take it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWell, they were really upset at first, but by then, it was already done. It\u2019s not like it can be removed, after all.\u201d He whispered the last part, as if even mentioning Symplanto\u2019s warranty enforcement team would summon them.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nI went home, but I kept thinking about Theo, stuck there in the shelter. I couldn\u2019t concentrate on anything else. Not on the obnoxious job applications I was filling out, or the cheerful buzzword-filled social media posts I had to make, or my empty inbox. I kept trying to remember Theo\u2019s movements around that cell, waiting for the pattern to reveal itself to me.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe next evening, I was back at the shelter, to try to look at the puzzle with fresh eyes. We didn\u2019t get anywhere with it that night, or the next, or the next. I never liked seeing Theo like that, but it was the only connection I had to him anymore, and at least it was something.\n<\/p>\n
\nVerne showed me how to feed Theo; we had to restrain him and press a straw to his lips. He didn\u2019t protest, but his limbs kept trying to move. It was hard for me to take, but it had to happen.\n<\/p>\n
\nLater that night, Verne said, \u201cYou can visit your friend whenever you like, and I sure appreciate the company, but if you\u2019re going to be here all the time anyway, shouldn\u2019t you be on staff?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI laughed it off at first. Sure, I needed work, and none of the jobs I had applied for were calling me back, but this wasn\u2019t the kind of work I ever expected myself to be doing. My book was out of print, the speaking tour had dried up, but it was hard to believe that brief career had already run out.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI don\u2019t want to waste your time,\u201d I told her. \u201cI could apply, but I wouldn\u2019t pass a background check.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou really don\u2019t know who I am,\u201d I remarked, surprised. \u201cBen Plyman doesn\u2019t ring a bell?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe shrugged.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI was the Lemain Meats whistleblower,\u201d I told her. Still nothing. I realized we had time to get into this, and I\u2019d already said too much to stop her from finding out. \u201cI was working at a meat-packing plant. When you clocked in, you\u2019d read a script that put you on autopilot and let the bosses give your implant orders directly. Not quite as bad as it sounds\u2014the union put some clauses in there, to limit what they could tell us to do. But for the duration of the shift, I was theirs. A lot of my coworkers were on autopilot to start with\u2013day and night. You could rent a cheap bunk, eat basic food, and save up, and eventually you could retire and get your life back. That was the story, anyway.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMm hm,\u201d Verne said. \u201cI\u2019ve got a cousin doing that right now. Didn\u2019t even come off autopilot for Ramadan.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI nodded. \u201cI, on the other hand, didn\u2019t want to be on auto-pilot when I was off shift, because I was getting high. I\u2019d shoot up every night, and then let my implant handle getting me through the next day.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBen, if you\u2019re struggling with\u2014\u201d she began.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI kicked it a while ago. But if you try to hire me, it\u2019s one thing you\u2019ll hear about.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe started to put it together. \u201cIf that wasn\u2019t the real problem, then what was?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI noticed things happening to the other workers. Things they didn\u2019t notice themselves, because they were never really conscious. Just scrapes and bruises at first. Sometimes deeper cuts. Sometimes people stopped showing up entirely. I had no idea how they were getting hurt, but sooner or later it could happen to me.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSo I got a copy of the workplace safety laws, state and federal. Every morning I\u2019d tell my implant to read for an hour and leave the page marked where it got to. Then my implant knew what to look for. After each shift, I\u2019d tell it to write down all of the things I saw at work that were illegal. When I took it all public, the company did everything they could to discredit me. That’s why you won\u2019t want to hire me.\u201d I realized I was speaking louder than I meant to.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOh, you think we can afford to care about that?\u201d she said. \u201cWe\u2019re at capacity. We\u2019re understaffed. And by no coincidence, we can\u2019t afford to pay more than the minimum. And for what? Most of the people who come through here never wake up. Everybody wants the shelter to exist, in case they get stuck on autopilot. But for most folks, it\u2019s a false hope. This place is just a waiting room for getting reclaimed by Symplanto.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019ve really got some bedside manner,\u201d I joked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s not like I get many complaints about it around here,\u201d she said. \u201cWhatever drama you\u2019ve been through, it\u2019s not going to be the reason you can\u2019t work here. I\u2019m asking because we need help.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI thought about my empty inbox, and the prospect of spending another day sending out job applications, while I watched my savings ebb away. I thought about putting on some store\u2019s stupid polo shirt every day, and coming home too exhausted to be of use to anyone else.\n<\/p>\n
\nMost of all, there was Theo to think about. I didn\u2019t want to just be a visitor to the shelter, dropping by to perform my concern. I didn\u2019t want to see Theo get reclaimed by Symplanto, never to be seen again to protect the company\u2019s intellectual property rights. The brochures claimed you\u2019d be kept in comfort for the rest of your days; I wouldn\u2019t trust that without seeing it myself.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019m in,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n
\nSmiling, Verne yanked open a desk drawer and pulled out a form. \u201cWe\u2019ve got some rules when you\u2019re working here. No matter how dull it gets around here, we can never both be on autopilot at the same time, understand? Our duty is to be present for these folks who aren\u2019t. If you ever need to use your implant while you\u2019re here, you need to check with me first.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThat won\u2019t be a problem. Ever since Theo\u2026it\u2019s a forty-minute drive each way to come here, and I know I could let the implant do it. It\u2019d probably be better for my car\u2019s clutch. But I just can\u2019t.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe nodded knowingly. \u201cThat\u2019s good.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nThe next night was my first official shift. I wiped down the cells and bathed the patients. Verne showed me how to strap them down to get food and pills in them. I still wasn\u2019t comfortable with it, but I knew it was for their own good.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe manual labor itself reminded me of the meat-packing plant, and occasionally I did find myself wanting to autopilot through it. Verne said it\u2019d be fine, but I felt like it\u2019d be unfair for me to leave her alone.\n<\/p>\n
\nWorking the full night shift meant staying until 3 am, when the next volunteers came in. After midnight, the shelter got somehow even more quiet and eerie.\n<\/p>\n
\nOccasionally, often late at night, someone would press the door buzzer. The first time it happened, I rushed to answer the door, but Verne held me back. She went to the desk, where we could see the video feed from outside the door.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCan I help you?\u201d she asked through the intercom.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cPlease, I just need one fuel pill to get me through the night,\u201d the man outside mumbled. \u201cIf I don\u2019t top up soon, I\u2019m going to be reclaimed.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry, we don\u2019t keep any here,\u201d Verne lied. \u201cYou gotta call the county assistance line. It\u2019s on a sign to your left.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI sighed. It wasn\u2019t like the county had enough to go around either.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe visitor started to turn away, then thought better of it. \u201cCome on. I know you\u2019ve got \u2018em! But you\u2019re hoarding them for those\u2026those husks! I\u2019m here. I\u2019m right here on your doorstep, and I\u2019m alive! You bastards would rather see me get reclaimed right in front of you!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nIt got less coherent from there. I could see his spittle flying towards the camera. There was nothing we could do but wait it out inside, with the front door locked.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt left me shaken. The man had a point. We needed to use what we had to help people, or we might as well just let our patients get reclaimed.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nI was getting ready for bed by the time Theo called me back. There was often a delay in our phone tag; he couldn\u2019t return the call while on auto-pilot.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d he asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMy family are going to be there tomorrow, at graduation,\u201d I said, getting right to it. \u201cWant to meet them?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, Ben\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMy dad will behave. I told him what to expect. Promises were extracted,\u201d I told him.\n<\/p>\n
\nThere was a pause. I wanted this to happen. I wanted my family to meet the closest friend I\u2019d made on campus. And maybe it would help them to meet him. Whenever they were barraged with sensational scare-mongering, I wanted them to think, that\u2019s Theo. That\u2019s my son\u2019s friend. I didn\u2019t care if that hope might be naive.\n<\/p>\n
\nOn the other end, I could hear the clack of a video game controller. A classic Theo stress response. \u201cIt\u2019s not that I don\u2019t want to meet them, I just\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI took a guess. \u201cYou are going, aren\u2019t you? To your own graduation?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI am,\u201d he said. And then softly, \u201cBut I want to be fresh for my shift at the shelter. I meant to warn you before. I\u2019ll be there, but not there.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMy dorm bed creaked as I sat down hard. I appreciated that he volunteered, but he was always cutting corners to fit it all into a day. He\u2019d autopilot during meals, to get nutrition down quickly without caring what it was.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019re going to autopilot through graduation?\u201d I asked, trying to hold back the hurt. It meant he wouldn\u2019t be there for me either, though I felt selfish for thinking it.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNot my graduation,\u201d he said. \u201cThey won\u2019t change the name on the diploma. Not until it\u2019s legal.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI swore. \u201cBut the college president could at least read it out correct\u2013\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThe diploma\u2019s not really mine anyway,\u201d he said with a sigh. \u201cIt belongs to the thing in my head.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI rested my head on the palm of my hand. This was familiar territory, though I suspected it wouldn\u2019t have come up again on its own.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cTheo, we used the tools available to us. It doesn\u2019t make us any less. You know this. I bet the first generation of grads who could rely on the internet said the same thing.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThere was a long pause, and I wondered if Theo had gotten reabsorbed into his video game. \u201cAlright. I\u2019ll tell my implant to wake me up when I meet your dad. So he\u2019d better be there.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI smiled. \u201cOh, he\u2019ll be there alright. The other thing was, I need to get rid of my booze before they get here.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSo weird,\u201d he muttered. I laughed.\n<\/p>\n
\nI got up and started surveying the bottles. \u201cWell, want to come help? We didn\u2019t even open the Campari from that night of red liqueurs.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nI would often watch Theo move around his cell, and wait for some inspiration to strike. I had to help him, but I didn\u2019t know how. I\u2019d unfocus my eyes, but a pattern never emerged for me.\n<\/p>\n
\nWe had to sedate him sometimes; otherwise he\u2019d never sleep. His cheeks were fuller and redder now, and the cuts and scratches he came in with had all healed. Maybe his suit would eventually fit him again. It was in storage; for now he was wearing the same easy-wash beige uniform as everyone else.\n<\/p>\n
\nOne night, we put Theo back into his cell after a shower, and I noticed that the pattern he traced on the floor was different. I watched until I was sure the pattern repeated, and I counted. Now it was a sequence of twenty steps instead of eighteen.\n<\/p>\n
\nVerne was sitting at the front desk. I asked her, \u201cCan we take Theo outside and give him more room to move about?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe rolled her eyes a little. \u201cIf he takes off, it\u2019ll be you chasing him down.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nManeuvering Theo down the corridor mostly meant tugging on his shoulders to keep his feet moving in the right direction.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe summer dusk swelled with chirping insects. The strip mall\u2019s parking lot was all but empty.\n<\/p>\n
\nI brought Theo out into the middle and let go. He stepped to the side more quickly than I was expecting, and for a moment I thought I\u2019d have to rush after him. But then he changed course back towards me.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen I was confident that he wasn\u2019t going anywhere, I got out of the way, and stood with Verne up on the loading dock to watch. I started recording video of his movements.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHe\u2019s dancing!\u201d I exclaimed under my breath with wonder.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe movements that had seemed haphazard in the confines of the cell; we now saw that they were part of a larger whole. It wasn\u2019t a dance I recognized, but there had to be a song playing in his head, the way he was moving to it.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI hate people sometimes,\u201d Verne grumbled. Then she explained, \u201cThis doesn\u2019t look like the kind of dance you do alone, does it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nNow I saw what she was referring to. There were moments when Theo\u2019s arms were out, as if holding onto a partner.\n<\/p>\n
\nI jogged down to the parking lot, where Theo was going about his routine, and tried to sync myself up with him. But whenever I tried to move in close, he\u2019d move in an unexpected direction, and my feet would be in the wrong place. A couple times, he tumbled to the pavement, before his implant got him up to try again.\n<\/p>\n
\nI dusted myself off. My hip stung where I landed on it.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019m too tall,\u201d I said to Verne. \u201cCould you give it a try? Please?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe sighed and muttered something under her breath, as she came down to the parking lot. She couldn\u2019t get close to Theo either, without them colliding. I gave her a hand back up off the pavement.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nNow that she knew what to look for, Verne found a dance studio three blocks from the empty lot where Theo had been found.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe next day, I tried calling the dance studio. When there was no answer, I went over there, and waited until a lesson let out. Young kids streamed past me, middle-school age probably, some sporting the telltale buzz cut of a recently installed implant.\n<\/p>\n
\nInside, I found Freddy, the owner of the studio. They were slim and bony, wearing a black turtleneck and an avant-garde haircut.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen I asked about Theo, they said, \u201cOh. He and Larissa used to practice here every week. I remember the day it happened. What a shame.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat happened, exactly?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI surged with hope, but I was also incredulous. If Freddy knew what happened, why had Theo been found abandoned?\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI was upstairs in my apartment, since I can\u2019t stand to hear that song on repeat anymore\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHang on. What song?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cLa Cumparsita. One of the most cliche songs for tango,\u201d they said with a smile. \u201cThen I hear sirens pass, out on the street. An ambulance and a Symplanto vehicle close behind. You know, for when the warranty\u2019s been voided.\u201d They tapped a finger to their head. \u201cLater I heard that Larissa died in the accident. I tried calling Theo to offer my condolences, but he ghosted me; I figured after he lost his competition partner, he was done with the studio.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI felt queasy at the idea of telling them about Theo, but I knew I had to. At the news, their face paled.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI had no idea. When I came downstairs that day, there was nobody here.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nPulling out my phone, I showed them the recording of Theo in the parking lot. \u201cYou know how to tango, don\u2019t you? Could you just fill in?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSure, I know how to tango,\u201d they said, with a slight sneer. \u201cBut this is a showcase routine. Full choreography.\u201d They paced. \u201cYou\u2019d need someone to learn Larissa\u2019s part. Which means someone else will need to learn Theo\u2019s, to be able to teach the routine. How about this? Book a weekly session with me, and I\u2019ll figure out his moves, and then I\u2019ll teach you yours.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know how to tango,\u201d I admitted.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe only need you to be able to get through this three minute routine. You don\u2019t have to learn English to memorize one rap song, do you?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI wavered. It would be hard to afford, on what the shelter could pay. And there was some resistance, inertia. It was something I had never even considered doing, though I couldn\u2019t pinpoint why. But that didn\u2019t weigh much compared to Theo\u2019s life.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOkay. I\u2019ll do it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nThat evening, when I came in for my shift, I was already exhausted and sore from my first tango lesson.\n<\/p>\n
\nVerne was sitting at the desk, rubbing her temples. When she saw me, she held out a hand out and gave me a new door key.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe had a break-in,\u201d she explained, her voice raw.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWas anybody hurt?\u201d I asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo,\u201d she said. \u201cNobody was here at the time.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI didn\u2019t realize that was an option,\u201d I said. Especially since our shift was doubled up.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s not supposed to be,\u201d she said. \u201cThe person who was supposed to be here has been fired, of course, but now we have to find coverage for those shifts. On top of that, now we\u2019re not going to have enough fuel pills to keep everyone topped up this month. We might have to ration them, and hope it\u2019s enough until the next shipment comes. Unless you\u2019ve got a hundred pills\u2019 worth of cash to spare.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI took the chair next to her. \u201cIsn\u2019t there insurance to cover it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSharon filed the claim, but it could take ninety days to get approved,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n
\nI\u2019d had times when I wasn\u2019t sure how I\u2019d keep my implant fueled. Times when I ended up behind on rent, or skipping meals, to make it work out. I hated that feeling. This was on an entirely different scale.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe can\u2019t let them get reclaimed,\u201d I said. \u201cThey\u2019re counting on us. Maybe we can collect enough from the community\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWho, Ben?\u201d Verne asked. \u201cOur fundraising is tapped out, believe me. If we ration the remaining pills just right, maybe we can get by. It\u2019s the best we can do. The worst that happens is somebody gets reclaimed by Symplanto, and that happens sometimes anyway. These patients can\u2019t just stay here forever.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThere\u2019s something else,\u201d I said, putting my face in my hands. \u201cTheo\u2019s dance partner died in a car accident, the day he got on autopilot.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nVerne frowned. \u201cI won\u2019t lie, that\u2019s bad. If he was expecting to dance with her in particular\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI shook my head. \u201cI\u2019m not ready to give up.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI wasn\u2019t ready to hear it, and I couldn\u2019t shake my suspicion that she was just out of hope because of the break-in. I stormed away. Even though there wasn\u2019t really anywhere else to go but down the corridor. She gave me space for the rest of the shift, but it still felt cramped in there.\n<\/p>\n
\nLater that night, a new patient arrived. An older man in a jean jacket, with wisps of ratty hair around his bald head. The man\u2019s name was Victor. Whatever he was trying to do, it was a sedentary task, so he was brought in on a wheelchair. His hand moved around shakily, with no discernible pattern.\n<\/p>\n
\nVerne started calling around, trying to find anyone who knew him, while I got him cleaned up, fed, and fuel-pilled.\n<\/p>\n
\nNo one called back, at least not immediately. So Verne started trying to figure Victor out herself. She grabbed all sorts of things from the prop closet. None of them seemed like a good fit, but she was undeterred, looking up videos of various things\u2014knitting, glass-blowing, watch-making\u2014trying to find a clue.\n<\/p>\n
\nHer focus on it was unwavering. Meanwhile I felt unusually alone, in my attempt to help Theo. Victor also meant another mouth to feed, when we were already barely hanging on. I knew it wasn\u2019t fair to resent him; he hadn\u2019t meant to end up here.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nTheo was waiting for me outside the prison gate. He was holding a puffy winter coat, and threw it to me as I approached.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou smell,\u201d he said. \u201cHow was it?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWent by in a blink,\u201d I said, trying for confidence I didn\u2019t have.\n<\/p>\n
\nI\u2019d been on autopilot for my thirty day stint. Calling around for a ride home, once I knew I was getting out, that was the most nerve-wracking part. I certainly didn\u2019t want to call my folks, if I could avoid it. And most of my friends didn\u2019t want to get involved.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhen I got locked up, they didn\u2019t allow that.\u201d Theo had deliberately gotten arrested during a demonstration. I loved that he acted like this was just the same.\n<\/p>\n
\nI shrugged, gripping the coat around myself for warmth. \u201cRules changed, I guess.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAre you going to be okay going straight home?\u201d he asked, as we slid through traffic, surrounded by compliant drivers with slack faces.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYeah,\u201d I said. It was a lie, but a lie that we both needed.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhat neither of us wanted to bring up was how we\u2019d lost touch in the months after graduation, other than this.\n<\/p>\n
\nTheo was silent for long enough that I assumed he switched to autopilot. Then, \u201cI\u2019m not going to ask you to promise, but\u2026next time you get that messed up, instead of getting on a city bus and making a scene, just put your implant in charge for a while.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI couldn\u2019t look over at him and see the worry on his face that I knew was there. There were so many excuses that I had ready to deploy. It wasn\u2019t that simple. But it was also my fault that I\u2019d lost control. What I really heard was, Theo was there for me now, when no one else was, but there was a limit to it. If I wanted to keep it that way, next time I wouldn\u2019t call him. The next time I\u2019d call him, it\u2019d have to be about something else.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019re right,\u201d I said, forcing a laugh.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nIt took three weeks to get the dance routine down. At every lesson, Freddy walked me through some of the moves. I recorded what I had to do, and practiced it over and over again afterwards. I knew we were making progress, but I worried that it would take too long, or that it wouldn\u2019t be enough. I could devote myself to this, and Theo could get reclaimed anyway.\n<\/p>\n
\nArgentine tango was a smooth, sensual dance, but it still pushed me in ways I hadn\u2019t pushed myself in a long time. Broad steps and tight spins, precise movements, and constant conscious fixation on my posture. I marveled at Theo\u2019s ability to introduce me to new experiences, even in his absence.\n<\/p>\n
\nI knew I could speed this up by taking these lessons on autopilot\u2013letting the implant do the learning for me. The temptation was always there. But if that was how Theo had gotten stuck, the last thing I wanted was to make the exact same mistake.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe can keep practicing this if you like, but I think you\u2019re ready,\u201d Freddy said at the end of our lesson.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAre you sure you can\u2019t be the one to do this?\u201d I asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019re the one who\u2019s been learning Larissa\u2019s part,\u201d they said. \u201cYou\u2019ll do fine. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn\u2019t. Either way, you\u2019ve done so much for your friend already.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou have too, Freddy,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nThe moon was high when we brought Theo outside again. The wind sent fallen leaves twirling across the asphalt. Verne brought out a speaker, and put on the dusty-sounding recording.\n<\/p>\n
\nNow that I knew Theo\u2019s routine from end to end, I knew when to join in. I stepped in, taking the follower\u2019s position to start. Freddy said that Theo and Larissa switched between lead and follower roles during the routine, but to me it was just a sequence of movements. Together, we moved forward then back, together. For a moment I felt exhilarated. I imagined Theo surprised and pleased to find me dancing with him.\n<\/p>\n
\nTheo turned into his spin, one arm swinging up and out to give flair to the movement, and his elbow clocked me in the jaw. I tried to pick back up where we were, but his knee pushed forward further than I expected, forcing the wind out of me. I cursed under my breath, reminding myself that he wasn\u2019t doing it intentionally.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen I recovered, I tried again. We had to go through the full routine at least once before I could concede. But again, I could only get so far, before his movements started interfering with mine.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI think Larissa must have been shorter,\u201d I told Verne, as I got up from another painful collision. \u201cWould you give it a try?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019re not selling me on it,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe physical pain was getting to me, and my patience was just about spent. \u201cNot selling you on it? Verne, you haven\u2019t cared about Theo in weeks.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHey now. I may not have a decade of personal history there, but neither–\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cRemember what you told me, about how this shelter\u2019s just a waiting room for being reclaimed? Well, I think it\u2019s pretty clear why that is. You\u2019re only interested in the puzzle! So the newest arrival gets your attention just so long as you think they\u2019re solvable, and then you move on.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYes, Ben, I\u2019ve been helping Victor more than Theo. Because Theo has you, and Victor has no one else. And I was just starting to think you could see beyond the edges of your own orbit.\u201d She turned and stormed away.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhere are you going?\u201d I called out.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cGetting my keys! I don\u2019t get paid enough to put up with this.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe came back out to the parking lot with her car keys, and drove off.\n<\/p>\n
\nI knew I\u2019d messed up, and there was no making it right tonight, but Verne leaving left me to stew on it.\n<\/p>\n
\nBeing on the night shift alone was every bit as trying as I imagined it. Every patient that needed to be bathed or fed, I had to wrestle individually. There were long shadows, eery quiet, and numbing boredom. Water dripped to the floor, once about every two seconds. In the stillness, it was loud enough that I could hardly form a thought, let alone write an apology.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nVerne was at the front desk when I arrived the next day. She barely glanced my way. I dreaded an entire night of not talking.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry for saying all that,\u201d I told her. \u201cYou didn\u2019t deserve it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI stood by the corner of the desk, seeing if she\u2019d respond. If not, I was ready to leave it at that.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSit down and stop looming over me,\u201d she eventually said, motioning to the other chair.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen she turned to me, she said, \u201cI accept your apology. Though you got one thing right. I\u2019ve tried not to get too attached to the patients here. So many have come and gone. You don\u2019t know how hard it can be.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI squirmed in my seat. It was something I was trying not to consider.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI started working at the shelter the same way you did. My\u2026the father of my baby girl wound up here a couple years ago. Frank. I told myself I was so done with him, until I got that call. I came to see him here, and\u2026everything I hated about him wasn\u2019t here. Just his fragile human body. I thought, if I could get him off of autopilot, he might come out of it a changed man. I did everything I could to make it happen, and it was never enough.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cGod. That sucks, Verne,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThese patients typically don\u2019t stick around long enough for you to see it, but being on autopilot, stuck on one task, it can destroy you over time. Even in professional care. He lasted a long time, but eventually there wasn\u2019t much left for him to come back to. In the end, we got Frank factory-reset. I didn\u2019t have the strength to do it on my own, but my daughter insisted. I still see him around sometimes, just going about his whole life on autopilot, the implant entirely in control now. The implant doesn\u2019t know me, doesn\u2019t know our daughter, doesn\u2019t care.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe started to softly sob. I let her lean into me and let it out. It made me realize how much stress and emotion I was carrying around from working at the shelter, and how I had no one to talk to about it.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen she sat back upright, she asked, \u201cSo what do you need me to do?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI can walk you through the routine,\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019ll take time. It doesn\u2019t have to be tonight, but\u2026thank you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI forget sometimes that you haven\u2019t been through everything I have,\u201d she said, wiping the tears from her face.\n<\/p>\n
\nAs the sun went down, we went out onto the pavement and started running through the routine. I stood in for Theo as well as I could. We laughed about what people might think if they saw.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nLate one night, the patients were all \u201cput to bed\u201d as we called it, when those who needed sedatives to rest had gotten them. Someone rang at the front door.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s a Symplanto rep,\u201d Verne said, watching the video feed. A wide-set man with buzzed hair and a dark gray uniform.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe\u2019d barely switched on the intercom when he said, \u201cYou\u2019re legally required to permit me to collect Symplanto\u2019s intellectual property, per state law\u2013\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI stopped listening. My pulse started to race. What if he was here to collect Theo?\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDo we really have to let him in?\u201d I asked.\n<\/p>\n
\nVerne was already reaching for the unlock button. \u201cHe\u2019s got legal authority, like he said. Seriously, it\u2019d be for the best if you just stay out of his way.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe company rep rammed through the door, hard enough that it hit the wall. He walked straight past us, without a glance in our direction. He must see people as things everywhere he goes, I thought.\n<\/p>\n
\nDown the corridor he went, every step bringing him closer to Theo\u2019s cell. Instead, he opened the last door on the left. A middle-aged woman named Rosa. He hoisted her, limp and sedated, over his shoulder like a carpet.\n<\/p>\n
\nI was relieved that it wasn\u2019t Theo this time, but I also felt immediately guilty for that feeling. And I still couldn\u2019t shake my indignance that a company rep could just come in and take people.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou aren\u2019t going to explain why you\u2019re taking her?\u201d I asked, moving to stand in his way.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo, I\u2019m not required to explain how you failed at the one job you have, and you shouldn\u2019t have to ask,\u201d he said, and then went on anyway, to gloat. \u201cYou assholes let her implant get critically low on fuel, violating clause F of the warranty conditions and requiring immediate reclamation.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nVerne pulled me out of his path before my irritation had a chance to grow. It wasn\u2019t our fault that we were short on fuel pills after the break-in.\n<\/p>\n
\nAfter he left, Verne said, \u201cHe\u2019s been here at least a dozen times, and never bothers to learn my name. But we\u2019re all part of the same system. He has a role to play, same as we do. If it weren\u2019t him, it\u2019d be somebody else.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI know. I was just\u2026\u201d I said, as the tension in me ebbed.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWorried about your friend. I get it,\u201d she said. \u201cFunny, how we don\u2019t have enough fuel pills to go around, and Theo\u2019s neighbor is the first one to run empty.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe wasn\u2019t wrong. The patients were supposed to take turns skipping a fuel pill once in a while, but when it was up to me, I made sure Theo got his.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019m not skimming,\u201d I told her.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBen, Theo\u2019s on borrowed time. I\u2019m doing my part to try to help him, but the odds of getting him off of autopilot were at their peak on day one. You need to be ready for the day when a Symplanto rep comes for him. Whether it\u2019s because his implant runs out of fuel, or because it glitches out, or because Theo\u2019s body can\u2019t sustain it anymore.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI should go start the\u2014\u201d I began, ready to give any excuse to not talk about this.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cConsider the options, while there\u2019s still time. If you get Theo reset, he could live out the rest of his life, at least. Yes, he\u2019d be on autopilot all the time, but his implant would be empowered to make decisions. He could live independently again. He could feed himself, bathe himself. At least he\u2019d still be around.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI wasn\u2019t sure I agreed with that. It wouldn\u2019t really be Theo. This wasn\u2019t really Theo.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI have to be the one to decide this??\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe\u2019re empowered to make these decisions on our patients\u2019 behalf, when there\u2019s nobody else to do it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI paced. I smacked the wall with my hand, but held back, to not hurt myself. \u201cIf we can\u2019t get him unstuck, sure. Then I\u2019ll think about it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThen I went out into the autumn night air, and wished that I still smoked.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nThe big day finally came. The night before, we had gotten to a point where, to our surprise, Verne seemed to have the routine down. With practice, I had enjoyed dancing with her, and I felt prematurely sad to see that end, as I knew it probably would, one way or another.\n<\/p>\n
\nMy hands were shaking, and I couldn\u2019t sit still at all. We maneuvered Theo through the corridor and out into the open air, trying to catch the waning daylight for this. Either this would work, or\u2026I didn\u2019t want to consider the alternative.\n<\/p>\n
\nI stood a little to the side, taking a video of the occasion. Not that we\u2019d do anything with it, without Theo\u2019s consent. We were already starting to think about Theo as someone conscious and sentient again; it was dangerous and thrilling. I wasn\u2019t prepared for more disappointment.\n<\/p>\n
\nVerne wasn\u2019t as optimistic, but she did dress up for the occasion, in a sequined ballroom gown, metallic eyeshadow, and professional braids.\n<\/p>\n
\nTheo\u2019s routine reached its starting point again, and Verne slid in, taking his hand. Their steps echoed off the pavement. I could tell immediately that Verne was more right for this than I was. Maybe even right enough.\n<\/p>\n
\nThen she stumbled; Theo didn\u2019t, and that mismatch sent her to the ground on her side. I rushed over to help her up. Her dress shed sequins on the asphalt.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI thought we had it,\u201d she growled.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou did,\u201d I told her. \u201cAlmost. Just try it again.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe sighed, and dusted herself off. We waited until Theo started over again, and Verne stepped in to join the dance. I wasn\u2019t ready to start filming again; it started to feel like we weren\u2019t going to have the perfect moment I envisioned.\n<\/p>\n
\nThrough the twists and turns, Verne hung on, rushing her steps to catch up, breathing hard. Next came the dip. She leaned back, but the force of it pulled in the wrong direction. Both of them lost their balance. Theo\u2019s implant had him up and dancing again immediately, while Verne was slower to rise.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAre you okay? Did you hit your head?\u201d I asked.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo, I\u2019m fine,\u201d she said, though she didn\u2019t sound it. \u201cI think I\u2019m done.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI held back. I wasn\u2019t ready to give up, but she didn\u2019t deserve to bear my frustration. \u201cPlease? Just one more try.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThere\u2019s no point repeating something that\u2019s not working,\u201d she said, gesturing to Theo.\n<\/p>\n
\nI shook my head. \u201cNot for him, maybe. But for us, it\u2019s different every time.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt doesn\u2019t feel right, putting him through this over and over,\u201d she said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI don\u2019t hear him complaining,\u201d I said. It was the kind of thing she would\u2019ve said, and that made her smile, and reconsider.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDon\u2019t get your hopes up, Ben,\u201d she said. \u201cWe still don\u2019t know what he told his implant to do. Even if I do everything right, it might not be enough to help his implant finish what it was told to do.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI know.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThey started the routine again, and for a moment I wondered if anyone would believe the video of it, because to my eyes, it looked like they were dancing together, equal parts push and pull between them, their movements synchronizing. Verne laughed with joy, getting carried away in it.\n<\/p>\n
\nThey reached the end of the routine, when Theo\u2019s arms stretched up and out, before taking a bow. Except this time, instead of launching right back to the start of it, he stopped there, folded forward.\n<\/p>\n
\nMy heart skipped, and I worried he\u2019d be stuck like that now instead. Or maybe his implant had malfunctioned, and the Symplanto rep would be coming to collect him.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe song started over, and I belatedly remembered to turn it off.\n<\/p>\n
\nThen Theo straightened up. For the first time in months, there was a different light in his eyes. Suddenly he was the Theo I remembered from all those years ago.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2026I don\u2019t under\u2026I\u2026\u201d he tried to speak, his voice scratchy from disuse. His eyes darted from Verne to me. \u201cBen?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDo you want to tell him?\u201d I asked Verne. This was a moment she knew how to handle better than I did.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI think it should be you,\u201d she said, giving my arm a squeeze.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cTheo, hey. One thing at a time. You\u2026you were stuck on autopilot,\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019s been four months.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nIt took him a moment. He looked around at the parking lot, at the strip mall awnings, with new understanding.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOh. Oh.\u201d It seemed to dawn on him in waves, but each one led to more confusion. He looked unsteady, so I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019m so glad you\u2019re back,\u201d I said, before I lost it too. But I had no desire to withhold the rest, and wound him fresh later. \u201cListen, the day you got stuck, Larissa was in an accident.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAn accident?\u201d he asked.\n<\/p>\n
\nI paused, letting him suspect it even before I told him. \u201cShe never made it to Freddy\u2019s studio.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI guess that makes sense.\u201d He said, already too overwhelmed to process it.\n<\/p>\n
\nI grabbed his arm, and for once, it didn\u2019t feel like meat, it felt like old times. \u201cDo you want to come back inside for a bit? There\u2019s some paperwork to fill out. You\u2019re behind on rent, but there\u2019s a loan program you can apply for\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe looked at the faded awning over the door. \u201cI just want it out, Ben.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou know they don\u2019t do that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBut how can I ever trust it again?\u201d he asked.\n<\/p>\n
\nI shrugged. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to. Look, there are counseling programs too.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe skeptical quirk of his eyebrow was so familiar. I knew it wasn\u2019t a convincing solution.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cTheo, I\u2019m going to keep working here\u2026\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n
\nI hadn\u2019t really defined the intention until that moment. Eventually, I might burn out, or have to work somewhere that paid more. But I didn\u2019t want to be someone who left as soon as his friend got out. There was still much more that I could do.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201c…But you\u2019ve still got me to lean on, if you want,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhat knotted my stomach was the thought that Theo hadn\u2019t really pulled me into this on purpose. I didn\u2019t know if he wanted to have anything to do with me anymore.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYeah,\u201d he said softly. \u201cOf course I do.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nAnd then he leaned in, resting his head on my shoulder again, not sobbing this time. Now that he was here, really here, there was so much I wondered about. Why he kept my number. Why I never heard from him over the years. I swallowed them all down. Maybe there\u2019d be a time for those questions, or maybe we\u2019d only get this second chance.\n<\/p>\n
Aster Loxley (he\/him) is the more SEO-friendly alter ego for the Madison, Wisconsin franchise of Nick Davies. He works as a software developer, and plays in the band Gentle Brontosaurus, and releases solo music as Spiral Island. You can also find him in the dealer’s room at Flights of Foundry, the Dream Foundry’s Ignyte-winning online convention.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I pulled into the strip mall parking lot, and my implant disengaged, bringing me out of autopilot. Probably for the best that my conscious mind hadn\u2019t made the forty-minute drive. As I reengaged, so did the adrenaline, as if the surprising, alarming phone had just ended. The awning over the door was green, faded to …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107967,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,20138],"tags":[20139],"class_list":["post-140357","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-52-summer-2024","tag-the-colored-lens-52-summer-2024","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140357","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107967"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140357"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140357\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140358,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140357\/revisions\/140358"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140357"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140357"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140357"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}