Page 33 of Mutant Mine

“It is about a monster, made by a man,” I say. “But the man is the truly monstrous one.”

“Because he made the monster?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. That sounds interesting. Maybe I’ll read it sometime.”

The idea pierces me: that Finch might take the time to read a book that is meaningful to me. I find that I would like nothing more than for her to read it. I want to be able to talk to her about it, and hear what she thinks. To see how well she understands.

Perhaps if I turn the tablet on tomorrow, it will reveal to me what books she has chosen for herself, too, just as it has revealed my taste to her. Would that be an invasion of her privacy?

These are ridiculous thoughts.

* * *

THE ROOM ISdark now. I am on the floor, Finch is in the bed. We should both be asleep — but I can tell from her breathing that she, too, is awake.

Like this, as a disembodied voice speaking into the dark, it is easier to ask her a question:

“What is your name, Officer Finch? Your first name.”

“…Rory.”

“Ah. I was hoping for your real name.”

“What do you mean, ‘real’?”

“You are female, are you not? I assume that you had to choose a male name as part of your false identity?”

There is a long, weighted silence.

“You do not have to tell me,” I say quickly, regretting thequestion. Names, their implications… Have I missed the obvious? “If I am mistaken about your gender, I apologize.”

“No, no,” she says. “You’re right. I’m a woman.”

She sucks in a breath — and so do I, waiting.

“My name is Rory,” she says at last, softly. “Really. The other officers just don’t know that it’s short for Aurora.”

Rory.Aurora.Her name in my mouth feels like a luxury. Like butter.

“You kept the same name?”

“Mm. I was worried it would give me away, if I didn’t react when someone called me. This way, I respond without having to think about it.”

“That is clever,” I say. It is informative, too. She is not fleeing from her old identity, then. She just had a practical need to pass as male. “You must have wanted this job very much, to disguise yourself in this way?”

“I… I wanted to have an adventure,” Rory says, close to a whisper. “This seemed like the only way someone like me could ever get so far away from Earth, and make enough money to see the stars.”

“Well,” I say. “You are certainly having an adventure.”

She huffs out a dry laugh.

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

There is another long pause. I think she may have drifted off to sleep, but she speaks again:

“Do you have another name? Your mom can’t have christened just christened you ‘Roth’.”

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