Page 121 of The Last Morgan
"You are Lucy" he said softly, pressing his forehead to hers. "I’m already attached to you."
Lucy smiled at him, a real, genuine smile. And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe — just maybe — everything was going to be okay.
Chapter 27
Barnaby’s world had shrunk to a single desk lamp, the faint glow casting long shadows across the cluttered room. Wires twisted across the surface like veins under pale skin, tiny screws scattered like fallen stars. The faint hum of machines kept him company — a low electric heartbeat.
He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, smearing a dark line of grease across his temple, and leaned closer to the half-assembled VR headset. His fingers, calloused and trembling from fatigue, worked with the precision of a surgeon.
It wasn’t just about adapting the headset — it was about making it perfect.
The device they’d pulled from the box wasn’t human-made, atleast not in the way Barnaby understood technology. It needed Lucy’s DNA to activate. It pulsed faintly when touched, almost like a living thing.
Barnaby soldered the final wire into place, the acrid scent of burning plastic filling the room. He glanced at the clock: 1:30 a.m.
A crooked, exhausted grin crossed his face. It’s done.
The urge to sprint up the stairs and shake Lucy awake nearly overwhelmed him — to place the adapted headset in her hands and demand to know what secrets it held. But common sense won out. Tonight wasn’t the night. Not after everything she'd been through.
Instead, he took one final step: adapting the output to the main living room television. Whatever Lucy saw, they would all see. No more guessing. No more half-truths locked behind her eyes.
He sat back, surveying his work. The room around him looked like a battlefield — wires dangling from shelves, toolkits gutted open, spare lenses and circuit boards strewn across every surface.
Barnaby’s eyes drifted closed, just for a moment.
Moon down.
Sun up.
When he opened his eyes again, sunlight slashed through the dusty windows, exposing the controlled chaos of the night before.
Dragging himself to his feet, Barnaby gathered the VR headset and the TV adapter in his arms and trudged downstairs.
The house was stirring to life. The smell of coffee burnt toast, and something faintly sweet filled the air.
He slumped into a chair at the long breakfast table, dropping the delicate equipment beside him carefully, almost reverently.
The room was still empty, but not for long.
First, Lillian shuffled in, her hair hastily tied up, a deep tiredness dragging at her movements. She staggered into a seat, cradling a cup of god knows what between her hands like a lifeline.
Next came Sarah, her sharp eyes scanning the room for her love interest, her brother followed suit, he was silent as usual.
Then Corey and Damian appeared — footsteps heavy, voices low as they approached.
Corey caught sight of Barnaby and the headset immediately, his brows lifting. Damian, standing close behind him, froze mid-step, his hand falling to the back of the chair.
Finally, Lucy entered, walking slowly, one arm linked lightly with Byron’s. Byron leaned on her slightly, still pale, but steadier than he had been. They were a unit now, moving together as if one heartbeat.
Lucy helped Byron into a chair before she lowered herself down beside him, glancing around the table.
Barnaby cleared his throat, pushing his empty plate aside.
He rested a hand lightly on the headset and said, voice ringing clear in the thick air,
"When you’re ready, Lucy... the device is ready."
A visible ripple passed through the room.
