Elo sat by the bedside. Once upon a time, more than a century ago, there would have been beeping on the monitor by the bed.

  Now, there was just the sound of his breathing. He could scarcely make out Shasa’s shallow breaths.

  At least they had removed the ventilator. He didn’t have to see the tubes snaking into her body, making her look part machine.

  He didn’t know when she would awaken. Neither did the doctors. It seemed no one had any answers for him, any that made sense.

  The people in charge of the floating pools claimed that it was an unfortunate accident. That Shasa had probably become disoriented in the gravity-free atmosphere, and couldn’t swim to the surface of the water sphere she had found herself in.

  But Elo knew that Shasa visited the floating pools often. That she was more than familiar with the zero-gravity water spheres. She had told him that this was one of the rare places in the world which could bring her peace, aside from ‘Heaven’.

  Shasa said she loved the weightlessness of it all. She loved how unencumbered her body felt in that place. How she could propel herself with the tiny portable jets strapped to her ankles, sliding into passing water spheres if she wished. She loved swimming within the floating globules of water, or simply submerging herself in the middle of one, watching other water spheres wobble leisurely by. In there, all she could hear was her own breathing. If she held her breath, everything could be quiet. It was like diving, in a way.

  Safety personnel had been alerted by the floating pool’s AI surveillance system. They had found her suspended in a water globule that hovered metres above ground, her face a picture of peace.

  They got her out in time to save her life, but not soon enough to avoid brain damage. And so it was that on the fifth anniversary of Bru’s death, Shasa was rushed to the hospital.

  The damage wasn’t extensive. The doctors were confident that the nanobots could repair whatever brain injuries there were. She was lucky, they said, to have been on the ‘Heaven’ programme. The regular neural scans and recordings required for ‘Heaven’ were vital to the reconstruction of the damaged parts of her brain.

  The reconstruction had been completed within the first five days of her induced coma, and the doctors had predicted that she would awaken a day or two after.

  Yet there she lay, unmoving, more than two weeks later. The doctors had no good answers as to why.

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  “Did you do it?” Elo asked, voice trembling. She lay still.

  “Does living mean so little to you? Does your own life mean so little to you? Do I mean nothing to you?” He struggled to breath through his anger.

  “You did this to yourself, didn’t you? You wanted to die. To be with him.” He scrunched his eyes shut, and tears tumbled down his face.

  “I need you,” he whispered after a long pause. “Please wake up. I…I love you.”

  It was the first time he had admitted it out loud.

  “I’ve loved you for a long time. Please don’t die. Stay.”

  He clutched her cold hand tightly, hoping his warmth would seep into her, rouse her from her death-like sleep.

  “I love you,” he mumbled again. He opened his eyes, stared piteously at her silent visage. She didn’t stir.

  When the nurses found Elo asleep by Shasa’s side, still holding her hand, they tucked a blanket around him.

  They didn’t have the heart to gossip. The whole town knew about Elo’s love for Shasa. It was clear as day, blindingly obvious to all who knew them. All except Shasa.

  For the next couple of months, Elo was there every day. He seemed to have abandoned all responsibilities, save that of caring for Shasa.

  He began each morning by bringing a fresh cup of coffee. Coffee was one of her greatest addictions in life, and he hoped the scent of a good coffee would lure her back to the living. And each time she invariably stayed unconscious, he would drink the coffee after it had cooled.

  He would water all her plants, which he had retrieved from her home and shifted to her hospital room. Then he would dust and tidy the place, though there was little to clean.

  He would watch a movie by her side, making comments and asking questions, hoping she would respond at some point. When noon came, he would leave the room, to allow the nurses to wash her, and the physiotherapist to put her through her daily exercises and massages. On her behalf, he had refused to have these carried out by automation. He hoped the human touch would keep her closer to the living world.

  He would come back with lunch after she was alone again, and eat it by her bedside, making jokes about how she’s missing out with the blandness of her drip feeding.

  His afternoons with her were more flexible. Sometimes, he would read to her. Other times, he would play music for her, sometimes by his own amateurish attempts on an instrument, sometimes playing recordings. He also liked to share his adventure plans with her. Often, he simply updated her on the exciting news going on in the world.

  Most nights, he went home to bed. But some nights, he fell asleep at the hospital, by her side. The hospital staff, taking pity on him, turned a blind eye, and eventually even provided him with a cot and blankets.

  Time passed in this repetitive manner. He kept his hopes up, and waited for Shasa to awake.

  But Shasa seemed determined to seal herself within the tomb of her body. Determined to reject the living world.