Chapter 20: The Tracker

After Clara left, Jude sat motionless in the quiet house. He thought rapidly about the emotions Clara had previously described to him that occur when humans separate—should it be called pain, or longing?

He wasn't entirely sure, but following the patterns in his memory, he pouted his lips, struck a crying pose for the camera, and sent the photo to Clara. She didn't reply; she was likely still on the plane. Bored, Jude stared at the ceiling, his fingers tracing the skin from behind his ear to his back shoulder. Three inches beneath the surface was where the tracker was installed. The tracker was easy to remove, but restoring the synthetic skin required specific materials and time; he didn't dare act rashly.

These five days of Clara’s absence were a prime opportunity to investigate Julian, but before setting out, he had to resolve the positioning issue.

Jude took a turn around Clara’s storage room. Her guard against him was very low; aside from the cabinet holding core files, which remained locked, Jude had free rein over the rest of the house. There were some scraps of synthetic skin left in a corner of the storage room, but the scars from suturing would take fifteen days to be absorbed. During this period, he could not let Clara find out. Fortunately, the tracker was located on his back shoulder, a place Clara wouldn't see under normal circumstances.

As long as he timed it correctly, he could turn off the tracker and remove it while Clara was asleep, then turn it back on before she woke up. This way, he could selectively let Clara know where he was.

Thinking this, Jude kept his hand on the light switch, clicking it repeatedly. As the lights flickered on and off, he knew that if Clara found out, she would certainly be angry. But he wanted to see Julian so badly. There was no clear logical reason; he simply wanted to see this living, breathing human who shared his exact appearance.

In the dead of night, Jude made his move. The robot felt no pain, only the sensation of the cold blade piercing the skin. The minute sounds of metal clashing with internal mechanical parts were magnified infinitely in the quiet night. Once finished, Jude leaned against the mirror and sutured himself, a skill he had learned earlier from the internet. The crooked, jagged scar crawled across his back shoulder like an ugly snake. He looked at himself in the mirror, suddenly recalling the story of the man and woman seduced by desire into eating the forbidden fruit.

Human hearts breed desire, and desire drives humans forward.

Jude’s gaze swept over the blade in his hand, and he suddenly realized he had something he wanted even more.

Clara was overwhelmed with work after landing and didn't remember to check on Jude until the following evening. He was as well-behaved as ever, reporting everything from the birds on the balcony in the morning to the cat in the hallway at night. Clara felt sleepy listening to him and let out a yawn, asking:

"Did you not go out today? The tracker shows you've been at home the whole time."

"I took a stroll downstairs in the afternoon, but I didn't go far." Jude smiled and tested the waters. "Can I go to the park tomorrow, Clarie? I'll go early and come back early. I promise not to talk to strangers."

At this, Clara was amused. "Little Jude is already able to go out on his own? Then remember not to eat things given by strangers and don't go home with strangers."

"As you command."

"Jude," Clara thought for a moment and repeated, "come back early."

Jude nodded and gave Clara a reassuring gesture.

After the video call ended, Jude clicked on Clara’s social media feed and scrolled through his memory to find a specific post with a location tag. It wasn't Clara’s workplace, nor the shopping districts she usually frequented. It was an office building in the center of the city; Jude guessed this was where Julian worked.

The criteria for judging a human, besides appearance, family, and education, seemed to be their job. In human society, everyone finds their own place and produces their corresponding value, thereby driving the entire society forward. A person like Julian had an exceptionally high rating in human society. Based on basic cognition, Jude made a candid evaluation of this imaginary enemy: excellent, but with room for improvement—at least in terms of taking care of Clara, he believed he surpassed Julian.

Humans have seven emotions and six desires; their choices might be based on logic or sentiment. He, however, would not be like that. All his choices were the optimal ones based on big data calculations. He wouldn't make Clara angry, nor would he do anything Clara disliked. He had none of the flaws Julian possessed as a human.

After calculating the route, Jude put on his hat and mask and went to a park near the complex, wandering around for a few slow laps.

Meanwhile, Julian had lost any desire to work overtime after receiving Clara’s message. He asked about everything from her day to the weather, asking if she missed him until Clara complained that he was acting like a fussing, abandoned wife. Julian sent a "hurt" emoji:

"It's five days. A single day apart feels like three autumns."

"Why are you so sappy?" Clara carried some fruit toward her lodgings, her fingers flying across the chat box. "I'm telling you, there's a snack here that is so delicious. It's a kind of fried tofu—crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, dipped in a bit of chili powder. One bite makes your soul soar."

"Is it only available there?"

"Probably. I haven't seen it back home," Clara sent a voice message while crossing the street. "Next time we have a chance, we can come here for a vacation. I think you'd like it."

"Okay. Why is it so noisy on your end?"

"I'm crossing the street," the green light time was too short, and Clara began to jog. "The traffic here is so messy, but the sunset is beautiful."

Through the electronic noise, Julian seemed to catch Clara’s unsteady breathing. The sound of traffic and horns from thousands of miles away leaked into his ear, becoming nutrients that fueled his longing. The separation wasn't long, but it made him feel lonely. During those years overseas, he had endured by clinging to every bit of their past, countless times imagining the scene of their reunion, picturing how they would walk through the rest of their lives together. Yet now, it was a different sensation—no unease, no resentment, just purely wrapped in solitude and silence.

"Julian, are you listening?"

"Mm. Are you back at the dorm, Clarie?"

"I'm back, I'm back. I bought rice noodles, but the owner forgot and added scallions." Clara feigned a look of distress. "What should I do? There's no one to help me pick them out."

Julian laughed, his voice a warm hum in Clara’s ear. "A door-to-door scallion-picking service—would Professor Evans like to learn more about it?"

"No, it would definitely be way too expensive. After all, you are a wicked capitalist."

"As the wife of a wicked capitalist, you have the right to exploit the capitalist."

"You're so gross," Clara drawled, the sound of rustling followed as if she were looking for something, then silence for half a minute.

"Julian," Clara mimicked a scene from a movie, tapping her phone three times. "I miss you very much."

Julian looked out at the sinking sunset outside the window and said quietly, "I love you too."