Banished Divinity: Learning to be Human

After saying, Thank you.

Both of Mina's eyes twitched at the same rhythm.

Wow! Such a phenomenon again, I thought. I thought it happened on Mum only. This is going in my observation log #80: Tangled Menace's both eyes twitched just like Mum. Does that mean it's genetics, or does this mean there is some sort of sorcery? I need to investigate further.

Mina's face went red—the colour of embarrassment, anger, and whatever emotion lived between "I love you" and "I will end you." She turned around so fast her hair whipped across her face like she was in some sort of hair commercial, and like a weapon of soft blades, it smacked me right across my face. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT. I'M GOING TO MY ROOM. I HAVE TO DRAW. GOODBYE."

She stomped up the stairs. But before she disappeared into her room, she paused. She looked back at me. Just for a second.

And then she said, very quietly: "Proud of you, weirdo."

Then she slammed the door so hard a picture fell off the wall. It was the picture of the B. She definitely did that on purpose.

"I love her," Human Sera said, floating in lazy circles. "She's got good door-slamming form. Very dramatic. Very theatrical. I approve. She's been doing that since we were kids. She slammed her door so hard once that a book fell off my shelf and hit me in the head. I cried for an hour. She felt bad and gave me her dessert for a week. Worth it."

"She's a menace."

"A lovable menace. There's a difference. Also, she used to braid my hair. Every morning before school. She'd stand behind me and braid my hair and complain about it the whole time, but she never missed a day. Not once."

I looked at Human Sera. At myself. Translucent. Floating. Smiling like she remembered everything.

"You really remember all of that?"

"Every single thing," she said softly. "Every fight. Every laugh. Every time Mina stole my socks. Every time Mum burned dinner and Dad pretended it was gourmet. Every time we sat around the table and just... were. A family. I remember all of it."

"That must be nice."

"It is. And it isn't. Because I'm here, and I can see them, and I can't touch them. I can't tell them I remember. I can't tell Mina her braids were terrible, and I only let her do them because I loved her. I can't tell Mum her cooking was actually awful at first but over the years she improved so much and now, I look forward in eating them. I can't tell Dad his jokes were never funny and I laughed because his face was so hopeful." She paused. "Being dead is mostly boring. But sometimes it's just sad."

I didn't know what to say. So, I didn't say anything.

"Anyway," she said, her voice brightening. "Enough feelings. Go get another A. I believe in you, current me. Even if you are a replacement with no memories and terrible fashion sense."

"My fashion sense is fine." I whispered mixed with feelings. Of hurt it seems.

"You're wearing mismatched socks."

"They're artistic."

"They're ugly. But I love them. Because they're yours."

---

Dad appeared—from absolutely nowhere, and I have no idea where he came from. Another observation log #81: Dad's skill of disappearance and reappearance. This seems like a genuine phenomenon. I remember he appeared when I first came to the food chamber—which I now know is the kitchen. Then he appeared when I was looking for food one evening, thinking he was at the restaurant. Now he appears while Mum is crying. What sorcery is this? Is there a portal for Dad somewhere? Need to observe.

Dad put his hand on Mum's shoulder. "Dear, she was always smart. She just... expressed it differently. In ways that did not involve passing economics. Or remembering where she put her shoes. Or identifying basic shapes."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE PAST," Mum sobbed, blowing her nose into the dish towel. "I DON'T CARE ABOUT MEMORIES. I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANY OF IT. SHE'S SMART NOW. THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS. THE PAST IS FOR LOSERS AND HISTORIANS."

"She cares," Human Sera said quietly, floating beside me. "She cares so much. That's why she yells. Mum yells when she's scared. And she's scared all the time."

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. They didn't care about memories anymore—about the old Sera, the celestial Sera, the Sera who had once made demons tremble and realms burn and probably left the fridge open a lot. They were happy with this version of Sera. The one who got back her A's. The one who understood supply curves. The one who had, apparently, been prayed into existence. The one who was starting to love this family more and more, day by day.

Wait. What? Love this family more and more?

I paused and let the feeling sit. Huh. This was good. This felt nice, actually. Like a warm blanket made of feelings. Yes! This was what I wanted. A family. A home. A framed B on the wall.

What is wrong with me? I thought happily.

"Nothing," Human Sera said softly, floating beside me. For once, she wasn't making a joke. Her face—my face—was serious. Gentle. "Nothing is wrong with you. Don't look at me like that—you asked the question, and you were thinking out loud again. Anyway, this is what it feels like. Being loved. Being home. I know because I felt it too. Before. With them. They're good people, current me. They're not perfect. But they're good. And they love you. Even if they don't say it right. Even if they say it with frames and tears and other weird theories."

"Shut up," I whispered. But I was smiling.

"You're welcome."