ADAM'S POV
The following afternoon, the sensory input from the north pasture was identical to the previous day: the rhythmic swing of the sledgehammer, the resistance of the earth, the rising internal temperature of my body. Eve was with Martha in the garden, his muffled complaints about "uncalibrated dirt" occasionally drifting on the wind.
Silas and I were halfway through securing the next line of fence posts when a new data point appeared. A vehicle—a brightly colored pickup truck, significantly older than Father's sedan—approached down the dusty farm road. Its engine generated a high-frequency rattle that suggested poor maintenance.
"Company," Silas grunted, straightening up. "That'll be the Miller girl. She brings eggs sometimes."
The truck stopped at the edge of the pasture. A young female, approximately 16-17 standard Earth years, exited the vehicle. Her hair was the color of dried hay, and her clothes were practical, but her smile, as she approached, radiated an energy that caused an unexpected spike in my internal processors. It was… uncalibrated.
"Afternoon, Mr. Vance!" she called out, her voice clear and bright. "Mama sent me with the eggs. And to see if you needed anything. Saw your fence was looking a little rough."
"Hard times for an old man, June," Silas replied, a rare, almost imperceptible softening in his tone. "Thanks for the eggs. This here is Adam."
June's gaze shifted to me. Her eyes were green, like the distant trees, and they held a level of curiosity that felt strangely invasive. "Adam? You new around here? I haven't seen you at Oakhaven High."
My logic protocols for social interaction were rudimentary, based mostly on Father's detached observations of human behavior. My primary objective was to be "normal."
"I am... recent," I stated, my voice flat. "My prior location did not include formal educational institutions."
June tilted her head, a gesture I recognized as human puzzlement. "Oh. Homeschooled then? Is your family new to the valley?"
"My family is... complex," I replied, adhering to the truth while obscuring the primary data. "I am currently residing with Silas Vance."
June's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a quick glance at Silas. The emotional frequency from her shifted, registering as subtle apprehension. She likely knew the history.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Adam," she said, extending a hand. "I'm June Miller."
I hesitated. Physical contact outside of combat was rare and usually restricted to Father's periodic diagnostic scans. My hand felt rough, blistered from the fence work. I extended it. Her touch was unexpectedly soft, warm. It sent a faint, unexplainable shiver through my system.
"Greetings, June Miller," I replied, attempting to modulate my voice to a more "normal" tone. It still sounded like a synthesized report.
"So, you're helping Mr. Vance with the fence?" June asked, withdrawing her hand. "That's good. He needs the help. My dad says he's stubborn as a mule." She winked at Silas.
Silas just grunted, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "Go on, June. You've got chores too."
"Alright, alright! Nice to meet you, Adam! Maybe I'll see you around. Oakhaven isn't exactly a bustling metropolis, so new faces are rare," she said, then turned and walked back to her truck, her movements light and fluid.
I watched her go, my processors analyzing the interaction.
• Eye contact: High.
• Verbal communication: Standard lexicon.
• Emotional output: Mixed (Curiosity, apprehension, friendliness).
• Physical contact: Brief, non-aggressive.
• Overall result: Undetermined.
"She's a good girl, June," Silas said, retrieving a post-hole digger. "Got a good heart. You treat her right, boy. Not like your father treated... well, just treat her right."
I didn't reply. I just stared at the spot where June had stood. Her presence had left an unexpected residue—a faint scent of wildflowers and something else, something undefinable, that lingered in the dry air. For the first time, a variable had entered my life that could not be solved by logic or force. It had to be... experienced.
And my internal systems, for all their power, had no data on how to process that.
JUNE'S POV
Oakhaven wasn't exactly the kind of place where things happened. Usually, the biggest news was whose tractor broke down or which of the Miller twins got caught sneaking a beer behind the high school bleachers. So, when Mama told me to drop off the eggs at the Vance place, I didn't expect to see anything other than Mr. Vance looking like a grumpy old statue.
But then I saw him.
He was standing in the north pasture, silhouetted against the harsh afternoon sun. At first, I thought Silas had finally hired a hand, but as I got closer, the way the boy moved stopped me mid-stride. He didn't move like a farm hand. He moved with a terrifying, liquid grace, like a mountain lion trying to pretend it was a house cat.
I hopped out of the truck, the familiar rattle of the engine feeling louder than usual. "Afternoon, Mr. Vance!" I called out, forcing a cheerfulness I didn't quite feel. My eyes kept sliding back to the stranger.
He was wearing old denim, but it looked wrong on him—too stiff, too ordinary. His skin was pale, and he was covered in dust, but he wasn't sweating the way a normal person would after hours under the July sun.
"This here is Adam," Silas grunted.
"Adam?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "You new around here? I haven't seen you at Oakhaven High."
Adam turned to look at me. My heart did a weird, fluttery hitch in my chest, and it wasn't because he was handsome—though he was, in a sharp, almost painful way. It was his eyes. They weren't just blue; they looked like frozen lightning. There was no life in them, just a cold, buzzing intelligence that felt like it was scanning my DNA.
"I am... recent," he said. His voice was beautiful but terrifyingly flat. "My prior location did not include formal educational institutions."
I tilted my head. Who talks like that? "Oh. Homeschooled then? Is your family new to the valley?"
"My family is... complex," he replied.
He didn't blink. Not once. He stood perfectly still, yet he felt like a coiled spring. I felt a sudden, sharp prickle of apprehension. There was something "off" about him, something that made the hair on my arms stand up. But beneath the fear was a magnetic pull of curiosity. People didn't just show up at the Vance farm. Silas didn't let anyone in.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Adam," I said, reaching out my hand. I wanted to see if he was actually solid. "I'm June Miller."
He hesitated. For a second, I thought he was going to refuse. When his hand finally met mine, it was like touching a piece of marble that had been sitting in a furnace. He was burning hot, but his skin was dry. His grip was tentative, as if he was afraid he might break my fingers if he squeezed too hard.
"Greetings, June Miller," he said.
I pulled my hand back, my palm tingling. "So, you're helping Mr. Vance with the fence? That's good. My dad says he's stubborn as a mule." I gave Silas a wink, trying to break the heavy tension.
The boy didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. He just watched me with those lightning eyes.
"Go on, June," Silas barked, though it lacked his usual bite. "You've got chores too."
"Alright, alright! Nice to meet you, Adam! Maybe I'll see you around."
As I walked back to my truck, I felt his gaze on the back of my neck like a physical weight. I hopped into the cab and glanced in the rearview mirror as I pulled away. He was still standing there, perfectly still, watching the dust from my tires.
He looked like a god who had been dropped into a dirt field and didn't know how to act like a person.
"Complex," I whispered to myself, gripping the steering wheel. "Yeah. That's one word for it.