Her body quivered and she seemed to have chained herself to me.

“Do you remember that woman, I-330 ? That⁠ ⁠… of⁠ ⁠… of long ago?⁠ ⁠… Who during that walk?⁠ ⁠… Well, she is now right here, in the Ancient House. Let us go to her and I assure you that I shall arrange matters at once.”

I already pictured us, I-330 and I, leading O-90 through the corridors⁠ ⁠… then how she would be brought amidst flowers, grass, and leaves.⁠ ⁠… But O-90 stepped back, the little horns of her rosy crescent trembling and bending downward.

“Is she that same one ?” she asked.