[ THEO-3 ]

  Personal Log. Day 151. 09:12 hours.

  Patient Caine walked thirty one steps unassisted this morning before requiring the support of the walking stick.

  Thirty one.

  I want to be clear that six days ago the number was six. The progression from six to thirty one in six days is, by every metric I have available to me, extraordinary. I have updated the recovery projection chart. I have updated it three times this week because it keeps needing to be revised upward and I find this deeply satisfying.

  He complained that thirty one steps was nothing.

  I disagree. I have noted my disagreement formally in this log.

  End log.

  [ DAMIAN ]

  "Again," Theo-3 said.

  "I just did it."

  "You did it once. The physiotherapy protocol recommends three sets."

  "The physiotherapy protocol," I said, "was written for people who didn't spend five months in a coma."

  "It was actually written by me specifically for someone who spent five months in a coma," Theo-3 said pleasantly. "So in a way it is the most precisely targeted physiotherapy protocol in existence. Again please."

  I pushed off the wall and walked.

  The stick helped but I was relying on it less each day. My legs had gone from feeling like borrowed equipment to feeling like my own again, mostly. The left one still dragged slightly on longer distances. Theo-3 had noted this and added specific exercises that I found deeply unpleasant and he found deeply encouraging, which I was beginning to understand was just how he operated.

  I made it to the window and back. Thirty something steps. I lowered myself onto the cot.

  "Good," Theo-3 said. The amber eyes had a quality I was learning to read as satisfaction. "Your left leg engagement is improving. Another week and I believe you will not need the stick for short distances."

  "We don't have another week," I said.

  Theo-3 was quiet for a moment. "No," it said. "I suppose we don't."

  We had been circling this conversation for days. Both of us knew it was coming. The recovery was real and necessary and Theo-3 had been right to insist on it. But the city outside wasn't getting safer while we waited and whatever was left of my family was somewhere out there in a direction I could almost but not quite remember.

  "Sit down," I said. "We need to talk about leaving."

  [ THEO-3 ]

  I retrieved the map I had been preparing and set it on the table between us.

  It was hand drawn. I had no printer and the hospital's digital systems had been offline since Day 3 of the outbreak. I had drawn it from memory using a marker I found in the nurses' station on level three. My spatial accuracy is precise to within approximately two meters so I considered it reliable.

  It showed SGH at the center. Outram Road running along the south side. And extending westward, marked in careful lines, the path I had been considering for the past three weeks.

  Damian looked at it for a long moment.

  "You've been planning this for a while," he said.

  "I had time," I said.

  He almost smiled. It was becoming more frequent. I continued noting it.

  "Walk me through it," he said.

  "Before that sir," I said, "I want to ask you something first. About your family. Anything you remember, even fragments, will help us plan where we are actually going rather than just how to get there."

  Damian looked at the map. Then away from it. The particular expression he got when he was reaching into the fog.

  "Few hours before the accident," he said slowly. "Maybe the day before we left for the road trip. I was on a call. I couldn't see any faces but I remember the feeling of it. Someone was at a house. Jurong area." He pressed two fingers to the western end of the map. "Near Lakeside. Jurong Lake District maybe. I know that place. I don't know how I know it but I do. It feels like somewhere I've been many times."

  "That is consistent with procedural memory, sir," I said. "Physical familiarity with a location often survives longer than episodic memory in coma recovery cases. Your body remembers places your mind hasn't fully retrieved yet."

  "So even if I can't remember who's there," he said quietly, "I might remember how to get there when I'm close enough."

  "Yes. I think that is exactly right."

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  He sat with that for a moment.

  "Do you have anything," he said. "Any information about them."

  "Limited," I said carefully. "My data integration was not fully completed when the outbreak began. My creator was preparing me for a showcase, the Singapore Week of Innovation and Technology at the Marina Bay Sands Convention Centre. He needed funding to complete my development so certain things were rushed. Some data was integrated hastily. Some not at all." A pause. "But I do recall fragments from while I was being built. My creator was giving instructions to someone over a call. Something about coming to a house near Jurong Lake District MRT. Near Lakeside he said. He stopped mid sentence so I cannot confirm fully." Another pause. "But it aligns with what you remember, sir. So I believe we are looking in the right direction."

  Damian nodded slowly. Something settling in his expression. Not relief exactly. More like a compass finding north.

  "Okay," he said. "How do we get there."

  I pointed to the map.

  "The primary challenge is reaching Jurong without full surface exposure," I said. "Surface routes are not viable for the whole journey. The infected density on Outram Road and surrounding streets is significant and we have only five frequency devices. Using them on open ground against large numbers would deplete everything before we reached the first kilometer."

  "So what then."

  "The MRT," I said. "Outram Park station is approximately four hundred meters from this building. If we can reach it we can access the tunnel network and travel partially underground." I traced the line westward with one finger. "From Outram Park the line runs underground through Tiong Bahru and toward Redhill. Underground means concrete walls and dampened signals. Significantly lower detection risk for you, sir."

  "Partially underground you said."

  "Yes. This is the part I want to be honest about." I kept my tone steady. "After Tiong Bahru the line slowly becomes elevated. Above ground level, running on raised tracks. From there all the way to Lakeside, every station, every stretch between them is open air and elevated."

  Damian studied the map. "Infected can't fly," he said.

  "No sir. The elevated track itself between stations should be relatively safe from ground level infected. They cannot reach elevated track without ladders and based on my observations they cannot operate ladders." A pause. "However every station has staircases. And the infected can climb stairs. So passing through or stopping at any station platform on the elevated section carries real risk. Additionally every station from Redhill westward sits above what used to be high density residential areas. HDB estates. Even five months in, those areas likely still have significant infected populations."

  "So the stations are the danger points."

  "Yes sir. Move fast through them or avoid stopping entirely where possible."

  Damian was quiet for a moment. Reading the map the way soldiers read things, looking for every problem before committing to anything.

  "You said we can access the tunnel network," he said. "You sure it's safe down there."

  I paused.

  "No," I said honestly. "I am not sure. I have no data on current conditions inside the MRT tunnels. There could be infected down there. There could be structural damage. There could be flooding from the drainage systems." I met his eyes. "What I can say is that it is my best theory for minimising surface exposure on the first stretch. But it is a theory. We will not know until we are inside."

  Damian looked at me for a long moment.

  "Okay," he said. "At least you're honest about it."

  "I try to be, sir."

  He looked back at the map. "Four hundred meters from here to Outram Park. That's the first problem. Open ground."

  "Yes. That is the stretch I am most concerned about. No underground cover. No elevated safety. Just street level, open air, four hundred meters." I paused. "I would recommend moving at dawn when infected tend to be least active based on my observations. Low light. Quiet movement. Frequency device ready but held in reserve unless absolutely necessary."

  "And once we're in the tunnel."

  "We walk," I said. "Tiong Bahru. Redhill. Then we assess the elevated section from Redhill station before committing to it."

  "One step at a time."

  "Yes sir. Exactly that."

  Damian sat back. Looked at the ceiling for a moment the way he did when he was processing something fully before accepting it.

  "When do we leave," he said.

  "Three days," I said. "Two more days of physiotherapy. One day of final preparation. Supplies packed, devices fully charged, route from here to Outram Park planned carefully." A pause. "I would like to do this properly, sir."

  "Three days," Damian said. He looked at the map one more time. Then at the window. Then back at me. "Okay."

  [ NARRATOR ]

  They spent the rest of the afternoon preparing.

  Theo-3 had been quietly gathering supplies for weeks — water filtration tablets from the pharmacy on level one, nutrient packs from the dietary ward, medical supplies chosen with the specific logic of someone who had thought very carefully about what two people and a robot might need moving through a broken city for an unknown number of days.

  Damian went through it all methodically. Sorted it. Asked questions. Made decisions about what stayed and what came with the steady practicality of someone who had packed for bad situations before and knew the difference between what felt necessary and what actually was.

  By evening the room looked different. More purposeful. Less like a place they were surviving in and more like a place they were leaving.

  Damian was at the window when Theo-3's internal sensors registered something.

  A signal.

  Faint. Close. Moving.

  Not on the ground floor. Not on levels two or three where the barricades held.

  Level four. Their floor. The east corridor.

  Theo-3 ran the calculation in 0.3 seconds. The maintenance shaft on the east side connecting level three to level four. Sealed on Day 12. Checked on Day 67. Not checked since because there had been no reason to check it since.

  There was reason now.

  "Damian," Theo-3 said.

  The tone was enough. Damian turned from the window immediately, walking stick coming up instinctively, eyes finding Theo-3's face with the focus of someone who understood without needing it explained.

  "How many," he said quietly.

  "One," Theo-3 said. "East corridor. Forty meters."

  Damian's jaw set. He looked at the door. Then at the five frequency devices on the supply table, three still at partial charge.

  "We can't use one," he said.

  "Not for one infected if we can avoid it, sir," Theo-3 said. "And not yet."

  They stood very still and listened.

  Footsteps in the corridor outside. Slow and dragging and horribly patient, moving the way things moved when they had all the time in the world and had found something worth moving toward.

  Getting closer.

  Thirty meters.

  Twenty five.

  Damian looked at Theo-3. Theo-3 looked at Damian.

  Three days suddenly felt very far away.

  [ THEO-3 ]

  Personal Log. Day 151. 21:33 hours.

  There is an infected on our floor.

  I have identified the entry point as the maintenance shaft on the east corridor. I have added resealing this shaft to tomorrow's priority list. I have moved it to the top of the priority list. I have considered making it its own separate list.

  I also want to note that the infected cannot open doors. Our door is closed and reinforced. This is a fact I am choosing to focus on.

  I have run seventeen probability calculations about the next four minutes and I am going to stop doing that now.

  Our departure in three days remains the correct plan. I have not changed my assessment.

  We will be fine.

  I am choosing this.

  End log.

  End of Chapter 4