Gray

The days that followed grew darker, barely tinted by the lifeless gray of the sky. The next morning, we spent hours desperately trying to help Katy recall anything—any small, faint trace of who she used to be.

Everyone came to see her: office colleagues, friends. But it was no use.

Desperate, I spent days trying to get her to recognize me. I showed her videos I’d recorded of our memories together, brought her back to the piano—but nothing worked.

I felt guilty for not keeping up with the pace of her decline. Guilty for confronting those stupid protesters and getting infected with S-Flu in the process.

I hated myself. Hated my impulsiveness, my new robotic side. My limited intellect, incapable of remembering even the most mundane details, like which floor my apartment was on.

BlackBrain was slowly devouring me. And as if that weren’t enough, I had to witness, day after day, the wilting of the most beautiful flower among flowers.

My desperate fight to stave off the inevitable led us to the mall in District 1. I thought that maybe, there, she might reconnect with herself…

Hand in hand, we walked shakily across the third floor.

“Tell me, Katy, is there something you’d like to see?”

Thin and pale, she silently watched the clothes worn by the girls we passed. None of them seemed to notice her state.

“I don’t remember why we came here…”

“To be honest, neither do I…” I joked. “Maybe it’s because we’ve been doing so many cool things lately that we forget the boring ones.”

“Hm.”

“We can use this chance to look at something you like.”

“Hm?”

“L-look at that store, for example.” The sign read ‘Memorias’. “Do you want to take a peek?”

“S-sure…”

Together, we entered the youth clothing shop. Just like before, I spent a good while watching Katy try on outfits.

She made an enormous effort to walk through the store, picking out clothes she liked. Her legs barely moved in a straight line, but she didn’t stop. I couldn’t tell if it was genuine interest or just her way of pleasing the idiot who looked after her.

It made me happy to see her choosing clothes on her own. But to my dismay, it was the strongest confirmation yet that she truly didn’t love me anymore. The clothes she picked were the most colorful and striking ones—probably because they caught her eye the most.

Without a doubt, choices the other Katy would never have made. And I assumed the same applied to me.

When we finished browsing, we found rest at a café table on the third floor. Once again, Katy betrayed her former self, indulging in her own way with a dark chocolate milkshake.

I opted for an apple juice. I couldn’t remember ever liking the orange one.

Damn it…

To be honest, that wasn’t even the biggest betrayal of the morning. The true horror was witnessing humanity betray itself by getting rid of the beautiful piano on the mall’s ground floor.

They replaced it with a propaganda booth. One that not only promoted implant use but also advertised various implant options on the market.

Replaced with more machines…

“Isayama, I’m tired. Can we go home?” She tugged at my shirt, her gaze unfocused. Trembling. Frightened. Confused.

Forgetting who we really are…

“Isayama…” Her knees began to give way.

“Huh? Sorry.” I snapped back to reality, catching her by the shoulders before she collapsed.

Holding her as delicately as I had held my mentor’s fragile body in the hospital plaza. A frailty that contrasted sharply with the crushing weight of sadness on my shoulders.

Exhausted, I carried Katy back home. Confirming that she hadn’t just forgotten who the rest of us were—she had forgotten who she was herself.