Page 35 of Bound By Stars

“I’m definitely sick that night.”

“You might be surprised. It’s kind of fun and we co—”

“All right, that’s enough.” She turns to me. “I think you need a break. If you’re done for the day, feel free not to come back.”

“I’m good.” I run my pencil over the bot outline, darkening the shape.

“A snack, then. You said you’d fetch snacks.” She hunches over her keyboard, typing.

“Trying to get rid of me?”

The serious blankness of concentration on her face doesn’t waver. “Always.”

“Fine.” I hop off my stool and raise my hands as I leave the room. By the time I’m back with two cups of tea and a protein bar, Weslie is standing with her back to the door, facing ILSA.

Balancing her laptop in one hand and typing with the other, she strikes a final key. “Repeat message.”

“Wes…zzzzleeee…plllll…” ILSA’s voice is low and painfully slow like she’s buffering.

“Stop message!” Weslie pounds on the keyboard, slides it back onto the table, and paces toward the window, gripping her hair.

ILSA’s face screen goes blank.

“Maybe a break will help. I brought tea.”

She whips around. “Why are you even here?”

“We’re supposed to—”

“Do you always do what you’re supposed to do? We could easily fake this partnership. Or better yet, leave me alone and take the incomplete. It’s not like they’re going to take your interplanetary corporation away from you.”

“Not a tea drinker, then?”

“You’re infuriating.”

ILSA’s mouth icon appears. “Displaced anger is a symptom of frustration.”

Weslie glares at the bot, and ILSA’s face goes blank again.

The door slides open, and Calypso enters. “How’s everything going in here? I’d love to see your progress.” Winding through the tables, they sweep past me and make their way straight to ILSA.

I raise my eyebrows at Weslie, shifting my gaze to Calypso and back. I knew we’d be monitored. Calypso is not the kind of instructor who hands you the work and leaves you to figure it out. They’ve always talked through assignments with me, encouraged questions, and even helped me research. They’ll make themselves available whether Weslie likes it or not.

They stop in front of ILSA. “How’s the communication bug?”

“Still haven’t quite figured it out, but I’m close.” A bold lie.

I automatically squint and tilt my head to the side.

Weslie glares at me. Definitely a threat.

“How about the presentation? Have you started to draw up plans and specs?”

“Well, I—”

“I’ve been working on that bit.” I open my sketchbook, and Calypso takes it to inspect my work.

ILSA glides closer, wedging herself between me and Calypso. “The scale of my cranial dome is inaccurate.”

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