The silence inside Cell 47 was broken only by the distant echo of a guard's boots walking down the concrete corridor. Albert remained lying on his side, his eyes fixed on the gray wall, while memories of his past seemed to drift through the narrow space between the two bunks. Michael stayed motionless on the top bunk, his eyes open as he observed the shadow lines cast across the ceiling by the corridor lights.
— She had an incredible smile, Michael — Albert began, his voice steadier now, though still marked by emotion. — One of those smiles that changed the atmosphere of an entire room the moment she walked in. You know when everything seems to be going wrong, but then you look at someone and suddenly feel like things are going to be okay? That was what she was like.
Michael did not interrupt him. He listened to every word, processing the giant's vocal patterns and emotional fluctuations.
— Her hair... it always smelled sweet, like the fruit shampoo her mother used to buy for her — Albert continued, a faint nostalgic smile appearing on his face. — And her voice was so gentle, so comforting to hear. Whenever I came home after a long day of hard work, hearing her call me "Dad" erased every bit of exhaustion. Sometimes I would just sit in the living room listening to her footsteps. She ran all over the house, her little feet hitting the wooden floor and making that familiar sound. And every time I looked toward the hallway, there she was, running toward me with a pure smile of happiness on her face. A kind of happiness that didn't need a reason, you know? She was simply happy to be alive... happy just to be there.
Albert let out a deep sigh, his chest rising and falling beneath the orange uniform.
— I would give up everything I own, every cent you just earned from that old man, and even the rest of my life, just to hear those footsteps running down the hallway one more time. Just to see that smile again. Having a family, Michael... loving someone that deeply and being loved in return... that's the only thing that gives this world any meaning.
Silence returned to the cell for a few moments. Albert thought Michael might already be asleep, or perhaps simply had nothing to say, given his usual analytical coldness. However, Michael's voice echoed from the upper bunk, carrying the same calm cadence, though with a tone Albert had never heard before.
— I have never received a hug from a father or a mother, Albert — Michael said, his eyes still fixed on the concrete ceiling. — I never learned the meaning of parental love through practical experience.
Albert blinked, surprised by the sudden revelation from the young man who usually seemed more like a calculating machine than a person. He shifted slightly on the bed to listen more carefully.
— Ever since my earliest memories were formed — Michael continued — I have never received anything from people in a spontaneous or affectionate way. Everything around me was based on what others wanted me to become. They looked at me and saw a tool, a result, a function meant to be executed. My existence was validated by my efficiency, not by my presence.
Michael paused briefly, adjusting his breathing.
— I have never heard phrases like "I love you," "I care about you," or "You are very handsome, my son." None of those expressions were ever directed at me during my development. In the environment where I was raised, those words were considered irrelevant variables — noise that could interfere with logical performance. I never received anything from anyone that was not motivated by expectation, utility, or personal gain.
Albert felt a tightness in his chest, a deep sense of empathy for the young man who, despite his terrifying intelligence, seemed to carry a void that no mathematics could ever fill.
— I'm sorry, kid... — Albert whispered. — No child should grow up without hearing those things.
— Perhaps one day — Michael said, and for a fraction of a second, his voice hesitated almost imperceptibly — I will want to receive that. I spend most of my time calculating probabilities, anticipating enemy movements, mapping frequencies, and decoding structural systems. But the ultimate purpose behind all those equations is not the accumulation of wealth or control over an environment.
Michael slowly turned his head toward the darkness of the cell.
— I just want a normal life, Albert. A life where statistical pressure is unnecessary. A life where I can smile without it being the result of a predetermined psychological strategy. I want to become more human. I want to understand people beyond their predictable behavioral patterns or logical flaws. I want to understand what makes you cry when you remember your daughter's footsteps. I want to comprehend the value of things that cannot be quantified.
Albert listened carefully, absorbing the complexity of Michael's mind. The giant realized that beneath the icy facade and the meticulous calculations, there was someone who simply wanted a place in the world where he did not need to be perfect all the time.
— You'll achieve that, Michael — Albert said, his voice heavy with the physical and emotional exhaustion of the day. — With a mind like yours, if you truly want to learn how to be human... you'll succeed. You just need to find the right people.
— Probabilities are variable — Michael replied, returning his gaze to the ceiling. — But the search for that point of convergence remains active.
Albert did not respond again. Exhaustion had finally overcome the giant. His eyes slowly closed, and within minutes, his breathing became deep, heavy, and steady, filling the cell with the peaceful rhythm of someone who had emptied the weight from his chest through words.
When Michael detected Albert's breathing pattern entering deep sleep, he closed his eyes. He mentally shut down the imaginary streams of data that constantly floated through his mind, allowing his thoughts to slow for the first time that day. The young analyst finally surrendered himself to rest, letting the silence of the cell guide him into sleep.