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There came a time when the questions that Mimsy was content to ignore no longer made her very content in their unanswered state, when her fractured mind did little to contain the things she kept buried in the back of her mind. Most that began to emerge had been hidden for so long that they had simply become irrelevant, with dead ends where their answers should be.

Not this one. She'd done well to keep the curiosity at bay for several months now, distracting it with newer things, but it couldn't be set aside forever. The little things that gnawed at her became bigger things over time by consuming more and more of her.

Reluctantly, she approached the AV room empty-handed and visibly anxious, and stood just outside the door, leaning in just enough to be heard.

"Dwight? Are you here?" she called, shifting uncomfortably. "Here alone? I would like to speak with you, but it is a personal matter."

Hearing the question phrased in such a way was a bit disarming, and Mimsy stood in silence as she tried to recalculate what she intended to say. She was not sure that she knew what she needed from this exchange, which made answering somewhat difficult.

"Nothing?" All of her uncertainty was contained in one word. "I think that I need nothing, at least. An answer, perhaps. Is this a trick? I am not attempting to delude you, and I would hope that--"

She breathed in, then out.

"I have a question that I would like to ask, which I would like for you to answer, in turn. Is that permissible?"

Ah, that was a more predictable response. Mimsy relaxed a little as she moved back into the realm of hypothesized conversation, but her gaze was still fixed on her hands. These were not the kinds of questions that she liked to ask, for fear of exposure or misinterpretation, among other concerns.

"You have known me longer than anyone else who currently exists on this island, as far as I know." The fact was significant to her current existence here, but that wasn't quite what she wanted to ask. Sometimes she did wonder why she had been selected, specifically, but that was a question for a time when her doubts were more focused on her merits. "You have seen more regarding me than most, because you are interested...were interested..."

Frustrated with herself, she skipped the explanation completely. When she finally asked her question, it was soft and stable, because it was the one part of this that had come out just like she'd practiced.

"Why did you give up on me?"

His words were hurtful, and uncomfortable, and spoke of beauty and love in ways that Mimsy struggled to understand, but she remained as calm as she could. She had come here to ask this question, and the answer was important. Even if it was wrong.

"No." The word barely made it through her clenched teeth, and she might have stopped there, if it hadn't felt so much like her purpose in that moment was to provide the evidence for the correct conclusion.

"She was the worst person that I have ever met, in all of the time that I have been alive. She saw who I was, and saw that I needed help, and she did not care. My father tried to ensure a healthy development for me, and explained the circumstances to her father, and she ignored it. She ruined everything because she thought it was fun."

For a short while, she fell silent, just long enough to sit on the floor and lean against the doorframe.

"I never wanted to play. I was afraid of other people because I could not understand them, but I tried, for the first few times that she visited. She condemned everything that I enjoyed and said that it was stupid, and so was I. She broke my equipment on occasion. She hid and destroyed by notebooks, which were my most important possessions. She caused the death of my pet."

The side of her thumb tapped against the floor.

"And you were wrong about love. I am sorry. I wanted to. I tried. I knew that my inability to properly feel such a thing was what prevented me from feeling human, and I tried. She teased me about it. She mocked me for trying in the only ways that I knew how. She claimed that every positive thing that I was told were lies that people said to me because I was broken, just so they could feel better, or so I would not be sad. She said that nobody wanted me here, and that nobody would miss me. She told me that nobody cared or loved me, and that nobody ever would. She said that I would never be special, either. She hoped that I would never find anything that I was looking for, which I only sought so I could feel as if I were loved or special or just like I belonged at all. The most successful years of my life were after she had run away, when I began to convince myself that I deserved to have what I was looking for."

She took a deep breath and looked over at him, trying to gauge whether or not he still felt the same way. She wondered if Clerise still sounded like a good person, and if this really was how people were supposed to treat someone like her.

"I know that it is not unusual for members of the same family to become candidates here, but she is not my family. My mother was her mother's sister, and she ignored me for the majority of my life. I wish that Clerise had done the same. They were family. I was never part of that, and they never wanted for me to be. She was not my family. She was cruel, and nobody believed me, because I was the troubled one. She fooled everyone, but I saw who she hid underneath. So if I fall short of the person that you imagined...it is not for a lack of trying, but it is difficult to rise to the top when someone is holding your head beneath the water."

The insinuation that she didn't know how to recognize it went ignored. It was a truth that Mimsy despised thinking about, so the solution was to refuse to acknowledge its existence, as per usual.

She tightened her jaw until it hurt, and stared at him from her place on the floor in silence. After all that she said, every truth and retelling, he still defended her.

This was not worth the curiosity.

"I reminded you that you have known me longer than anyone here." Silence again, except for the soft, steady sound of her fingernail picking at her thumb. "I have now offered you more information regarding my history than I have offered to anyone else. Anyone anywhere."

The sound was louder when she paused again.

"She seemed to be a better person, until she learned who I was. Upon her realization, it was as if she had never left. We were two adolescents again, no different than we had been before. She grew into a better person for other people, perhaps, but I was subhuman to her. Less than that, if it is possible. That never changed. Right until the end, that never changed. She wanted to see me fail, and she did. She ensured that I would. She encouraged all of our colleagues away from me, and publicly denounced anyone who called me a friend. And I failed. And I failed. But now. Now..."

The sound stopped, and so did she, frozen with indecision. Her gaze slowly fell to the floor, and quiet state lasted for almost a minute before she relented.

"I cannot begin to comprehend how I continue to trust you. I presume that I need to, for some sense of security, but I will not pursue the thought further. You are a puzzle that I do not want to solve. Thank you for your answer, however. I owe you an answer in return, I think. That is only fair."

Her eyes found him again, sometime in the middle, as if she remembered the importance of appearing as genuine as she sounded. If that was what she remembered, however, it was forgotten in the next instant.

"In her absence, I have accomplished everything. All that she denied me, I found through my own merit. That was all that I needed. A chance on my own. I took my opportunity, and I found what I was looking for. She said for over almost two decades that I never would, but I did. I am succeeding."

She didn't smile, but there was a twitch at one corner of her mouth, almost undetectable. She did not look proud. This did not feel satisfying. There was bile stinging the back of her throat, sinking into the raw spaces the truth left behind.

It always bothered Mimsy when people so adamantly practiced closeness in conversations of certain depths, but she didn't voice any complaints. Instead, she wedged herself against the doorframe until it pressed against her spine.

"That was not my intention." She sighed in a short, abrupt exhale. "I have not exaggerated or spoken untruths in reference to her actions. I only hoped to enlighten you to my perspective. She was much more...personable...than I am."

That was a given.

"It would not benefit most to believe me over her, especially considering the fond memories of her that remain, if not for the fact that I am alive, and she is not. She cannot posthumously change who she was. I can still become..." The thought trailed off and she didn't pick it up again.

Instead, she thoughtfully studied his posture, his face, his fidgeting, and tried to remain as still as she could.

"Are you interested in knowing this information in an attempt to reach a positive conclusion? Do you care? Or will you use this to extend the reach of her memory by your own hand?"

"Oh."

Despite her response, that answer was much more beneficial than the first.

"Well," Mimsy breathed out, relaxing into the comfort of a satisfying conclusion to her quandary. "I have no preference on the subject of determining whether you like me or hate me, but we do share a common goal: I do not want you to be wrong about me. I understand your frustration. It is particularly troubling for people like us when theories and observations prove to be incorrect."

Her eyes flickered over the flush of his cheeks, and she noted it with faint confusion, mentally punctuated by a question mark.

"I will correct any misconceptions and answer your questions. It is not a requisite for you to trust me, but allowing for some form of belief might be important for progress." The expression she gave him was a serious one, but it was entirely possible that she was trying to make a joke. "Concerning what you have already asked--"

She did not want to answer again, despite all that she'd said. It was a physical feeling of deterrence, warnings to replace the shields to curl inward on herself.

"I found love and its complexity, its determination and resilience, its absurdity. I found feelings and their unpredictability, and discovered the difficulty of quantifying them and of classifying them as a result of their differentiation among multiple people. I found a place to belong in spite of disruptions that should have expelled me. I was promised a home. I have a new family that has seen who I am, and remains my family both in spite of it and because of it. I am not naive enough to believe that I have learned all that I need to learn about these topics. In that same vein, I do not believe that I have learned quite enough to claim that I know how to be a person, let alone a 'good' one. I recognize the qualities in others, but have not yet determined how to locate and activate those qualities within myself. I am confident, however."

By the time she was finished, her brow was knit tightly in concentration.

"Was that helpful? I can elaborate if necessary," she assured him, before she began to idly chew at the corner of a fingernail.

'I heard everything during the sensitivity seminar' was all that Mimsy heard before a ringing noise began to fill her ears, threatening to drown out his words. She took in a deep, shuddering breath, and tried to insist to herself that this was not some sort of trick question.

"Yes." It came out too quiet, too hollow. She cleared her throat. "I mean, in a relative sense, I suppose. Not to an extreme concept of relativity, but one that is sensible within our environment. My research indicates that it is often considered to be a crucial attribute for those who intend to retain their humanity."

The memory of what guilt felt like was already becoming somewhat distant, but his reminder brought it back to the surface. Guilt was a problem. Guilt was not something that she knew how to fix, like love. It was not something that she knew she should fix.

"I may not be capable of that. I may reach the end of my efforts and discover that I am still too far from even touching the possibility of 'good'. But I would like my chance to try, and the option to decide. It was made clear to me, very early in my life, that I was neither good nor a person. I think that it is fair to desire the opportunity to find out on my own."