She didn’t say a word about the download. She didn’t ask where he got it. She just watched, her hand hovering over her heart, as the little cyborg girl took on the world.
“Maa? Can’t sleep either?”
An hour later, when Alita first digs her berserker claws into the chrome face of a centurion and screams, “I do not stand by in the presence of evil!”—his mother gasped. Then she laughed. A real, surprised laugh that crinkled the corners of her eyes.
Estimated time remaining: 4 hours, 12 minutes.
His internet, a patchwork of signal boosters and goodwill from the neighbor three floors down, was wheezing like an asthmatic robot. The file was a hefty 7.2 GB. On his connection, it was a digital pilgrimage.
Ding.
She didn't believe him. She never did. But she smiled, brought him a cup of lukewarm chai, and retreated.
Leo stared back at the screen. 12%.
He plugged the drive into the dusty TV in her room. The screen flickered. And then, in glorious, imperfect 1080p, the scrapyard of Iron City roared to life.
“Watch,” Leo whispered.
