Backstitch

Chapter 15

Lou swiveled his gaze to each doll, not even long enough to memorize their features. There was nothing to memorize. There was nothing to recall. Something grabbed his hand, and he looked down at the contact with wide eyes. Nolan rubbed circles on the back of it, moreso to calm himself down than Lou. The brunette opened his mouth, struggling to get the words out, "You...You do remember us. What's my name? T-Tell me my name."

Oh, he wanted to. He really did. Lou looked into those pain-stricken eyes and wanted so badly to make them happy. That was his job, after all. His purpose was to train dolls to go live a happier existence. But...as far as he knew...he wasn't supposed to be the reason for their happiness. This doll looked pained because of him. What did he do wrong? The brunette wanted a name. He didn't know his name. Lou glanced between the multicolored eyes, "I'm sorry."

The grip on his hand tightened, and Nolan's pain was redirected toward the human male, "What did you do?" There was a sharp edge in his voice. "Why doesn't he remember anything?"

"The voltage must have set him back to factory reset—"

"English!" Wage waved her hands in the air.

Henry sighed, "Lou is now back to the way he started. The only question is: what point did he start at?" The dolls looked at him with ranged expressions. He leaned forward, arms relaxed on the table as he drifted a finger under Lou's chin to redirect his attention, "Hey, kiddo. Do you know your name?"

"Louis." Henry smiled at the answer, and Lou internally beamed. That was right. He had done a good job.

"Good. And your title?"

"Model 12 Prototype. My job is to train all future Model 12's to sustain themselves in the Big World." Another smile told him that was right, too. Finally, someone was asking things he knew. He was failing earlier with the strange brunette doll. What would Mr. Everett think of him if he knew of the error? That sent another statement passing through him, "Mr. Everett is my creator!" he said, hoping to see that smile of approval again. Just as fast, he covered his mouth, remembering a rule. "I'm sorry."

Henry's brows cinched, "For what? You had it right. Mr. Everett is your maker."

As if he'd given a command, the words fell effortlessly from Lou, "Rule number 53: Prototype must never speak unless spoken to." The rest of Henry's questions seemed to be answered. Instead of another smile like Lou had expected from that statement, the man frowned. Shyly, Lou fidgeted with his hands as he looked up at the man, "D-Did...I do something wrong?"

"No," he quickly disarmed that thought. "No, kiddo, you didn't do anything wrong. I...never looked into what Greyson programmed you with—what he taught you."

"So," Ox edged closer to the blonde, "this ain't too bad."

"How is it not bad?" Nolan glared, eyes threatening to water, "Please, tell me."

"He's alive, first off," Ox shot back with a gauged temper. Nolan quickly shut his mouth, looking down at his lap. "And," he rested a paw on the boy's lap, "it means we might be able to jog his memory. All we gotta do is...wake that brain of his up," he tapped the blonde's head lightly. Lou scrunched his nose at the action. "All those memories couldn't have just vanished into thin air. They gotta be somewhere in him."

"Ox is right," Moxy smiled. "Maybe if we take him back to Imperfection, he'll remember. There has to be something that'll be familiar to him."

"Will there?" Wage questioned. "We've changed the entire Institute compared to what blondie over here remembers."

Nolan nodded, "And if he still has all those rules Greyson drilled into his head, won't it...I don't know...like, freak him out or something? The way everything looks now doesn't exactly fit what the rule book probably says."