"You're late."
Andy's hand slipped, the screwdriver scratching a line across the metal he'd spent hours polishing. "Jesus—" He caught himself, not looking up. "Yeah, well. Been busy."
Mrs. Calloway stood in the doorway, no cookies this time. Just her and that look he could feel boring into the back of his head. "Three weeks, Andy. Three weeks of nothing but excuses and locked doors."
"Maybe that means something." He kept working, movements sharp and jerky. A wire snapped under his fingers. "Maybe that means I don't want company right now."
"Since when?"
"Since I decided I needed space." Another wire broke. He swore under his breath.
She stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. The apartment reeked of burnt copper and stale coffee. Pieces of half-finished projects littered every surface like mechanical roadkill. She moved closer, and he could hear the crunch of metal shavings under her feet.
"You look like hell."
"Thanks for the update." He finally turned, dark circles under his eyes making them look sunken. "Any other observations you'd like to share? Maybe point out how I haven't been eating my vegetables?"
"Don't."
"Don't what?" He spun around finally, dark circles under his eyes making them look fever-bright. "Don't point out that you're standing in my apartment uninvited? That you're tracking my schedule like some kind of—"
"Like someone who gives a damn? Because clearly, you don't."
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know you're not sleeping. I know you barely leave except to get more of whatever keeps you up all night." She gestured at the empty energy drink cans littering his workspace. "I know you're working on something that's eating you alive."
"And what business is that of yours?" The words came out like acid. "We're not family. You're not my guardian. You're just—" He caught himself.
"Just what?" Her voice had an edge now. "Just the neighbor who's been here six years? Just the person who waters your plants when you forget they exist?"
"Just someone who needs to mind their own damn business!" He stood up so fast his chair crashed backward. "Christ, do you get how insane this is? You breaking into my apartment—"
"The door was unlocked."
"—acting like you have some right to be here, to demand—"
"I'm trying to help you!"
"I didn't ask for your help!" The words exploded out of him. He snatched something off the workbench—a sleek, metallic thing that hummed in his palm. "You want to know what I'm working on? Really?" His laugh had a manic edge. "This thing could level the building. That one over there? Might let me walk through walls. Or tear them down. Haven't figured out which yet. That what you wanted to hear? That your quiet neighbor's playing with stuff that could get people killed?"
Mrs. Calloway didn't move. "I want to hear the truth."
"The truth?" He slammed the device down. "The truth is you don't know me. You never did. Those little chats over coffee? Those favors we did for each other? That wasn't friendship. That was convenience. And now it's inconvenient."
"Bullshit."
The word hung between them like a thrown gauntlet.
"Excuse me?"
"I said bullshit." She took a step forward. "You think I can't tell when someone's drowning? When they're so deep in something they can't see daylight anymore?"
"Get out."
"No."
His hands clenched at his sides. "Mrs. Calloway—"
"Judy."
"What?"
"My name. It's Judy. And I'm not leaving."
"That wasn't a suggestion." His voice dropped, something dangerous creeping into it. He picked up the device, and it hummed louder in his grip, the blue light intensifying. "You don't understand what you're walking into."
"Andy—"
"No." He stepped toward her, the device thrumming between them. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to stand there with that concerned neighbor act like you have any right to be here. Like you know what's best for me."
"This isn't you."
"You don't know me." The words came out in a snarl. "You never did. You're just the woman next door who waters my plants sometimes. Who brings cookies and makes small talk and pretends that makes us something we're not."
She stood her ground, but he saw it – that first flicker of fear in her eyes. Good. She should be afraid.
"I'm trying to help—"
"Help?" He laughed, the sound sharp and wrong. The device pulsed brighter, humming at a frequency that made her teeth ache. "You want to help? Then get out. Get out before I show you exactly what this thing can do."
"You wouldn't."
His hand tightened on the device. The air between them felt charged, electric. "You willing to bet your life on that?"
She stared at him, really looked at him, and he saw the moment she realized the truth – the man she thought she knew wasn't there anymore. Maybe he never had been.
"Andy..." Her voice wavered. "What happened to you?"
"Last chance." The device whined, high and dangerous. "Walk away. Forget about me. Forget about tonight. Or I'll make you forget."
She backed toward the door, hand fumbling for the handle. "This isn't over."
"Yes." He raised the device. "It is."
The door slammed behind her. The humming stopped. He stood there in the sudden silence, device still pointed at where she'd been.
[That was unnecessary.]
"It was exactly necessary." His hand shook as he set the device down. "She can't be involved. None of them can."
[Your actions may have consequences.]
"Better than the consequences of letting her stay." He sank into his chair, the adrenaline leaving him hollow.
[Hmm....]
He sat there for a long time, staring at the device in his hands. The hum of it was gone now, but the tension in the room lingered like a bad smell. He could still see the look on Judy's face—the fear, the hurt, the realization that he wasn't the person she thought he was. He hated that look. Hated that he'd put it there.
But what choice did he have? She didn't understand. She couldn't. This wasn't about cookies or small talk or being a good neighbor. This was about survival. About proving that he wasn't just some Null who'd been left behind. And if that meant pushing people away, so be it.
[You're isolating yourself,] EIL said, its voice calm. [This isn't sustainable.]
"I don't need a lecture," he snapped, tossing the device onto the workbench. It clattered against the metal surface, the sound sharp and final. "I need to finish this."
[You're not a machine. You can't keep going like this.]
"Funny, coming from you." He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The headache was back, a dull throb behind his eyes. "You're the one who's supposed to be helping me, remember? Not psychoanalyzing me."
[I am helping you. But part of that means pointing out when you're making mistakes.]
"And what? Letting Judy in would've been the right move? You saw her. She doesn't get it. She'd just get in the way."
[She cares about you.]
He let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, caring doesn't change anything. It doesn't make me less of a Null. It doesn't give me the power to fight back. Only this does." He gestured at the mess of wires and circuits scattered across the table. "And I can't afford distractions."
[Distractions, or connections?]
"Same thing."
EIL didn't respond immediately, and Andy could almost feel the AI processing, weighing its words. When it finally spoke, its tone was softer, almost hesitant. [You're afraid.]
He froze. "What?"
[You're afraid of letting people in. Afraid of what might happen if they see the real you. Afraid of failing them.]
"That's not—" He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to argue, to deny it, but the truth was there, staring him in the face. He *was* afraid. Afraid of failing, of being vulnerable, of letting someone see the cracks in his armor. But admitting that? That was a whole other level of weakness.
"I don't have time for this," he muttered, standing up and grabbing his coat. "I'm going out."
[Where?]
"Does it matter?" He shoved the device into his pocket, the weight of it a familiar comfort. "I need air. And I need to think."
[Be careful.]
He didn't respond.
He just walked out the door, leaving the mess of his apartment—and the mess of his thoughts—behind him.