The hospital room grew quiet.
Suzanne waited.
Raymond waited.
Gear waited.
Even Mach remained silent.
Because everyone knew Kirran wasn’t finished.
He stared at the ceiling for several moments.
Gathering his thoughts.
Trying to explain something he had never fully explained before.
“As you and Gear know…” His voice softened.
“Life was hard growing up.” The words carried more weight than he intended.
Because they were true.
Painfully true.
“I spent so much time in hospitals that part of me started believing we should stop trying.” Suzanne lowered her eyes.
Gear remained silent.
Both remembered those years.
Both remembered the fear.
The uncertainty.
The endless treatments.
The endless waiting.
And a little boy wondering if life would ever become normal.
Then Kirran smiled.
A genuine smile.
“The day I got Mach was one of the happiest days of my life.” The memory returned vividly.
The workshop.
The mechanics.
The excitement.
The anticipation.
Young Kirran sitting in a brand-new wheelchair.
A voice greeting him for the very first time.
Mach.
Not just a machine.
Not just a Vent.
A friend.
A companion.
Someone who understood what nobody else could.
Gear folded his arms.
“I spent weeks helping build that thing.” “And you complained every day.” “Because you kept asking if it was finished.” “It was a valid question.” “It wasn’t.” The smile faded slightly.
“School was harder.” Kirran looked down.
Searching for the right words.
“I always felt different.” The memory hurt.
Even now.
Everyone else seemed so comfortable.
So normal.
So effortless.
Meanwhile— Every day felt like standing apart from the crowd.
Watching everyone else belong.
While wondering if you ever would.
“I guess you could say I felt like an outsider.” Suzanne quietly squeezed his hand.
She remembered that too.
“Recess was the worst.” Kirran laughed softly.
Not because it was funny.
Because it felt ridiculous now.
“I spent half my time convincing myself nobody wanted me there.” Mach immediately responded.
“To be fair, your social skills were terrible.” The room stared.
Mach continued.
“You once introduced yourself by discussing respiratory equipment.” Kirran groaned.
“I was nervous.” “You were weird.” “I was a child.” “You were a weird child.” Raymond laughed.
Gear laughed.
Even Suzanne smiled.
The tension in the room eased.
Just a little.
Kirran looked toward Mach.
Then smiled.
“Honestly?” The Vent tilted his head.
“What?” “It was you.” Mach blinked.
“What was me?” “You were the reason I started talking to people.” Silence.
The room listened.
“It was Mach who pushed me.” “It was Mach who kept telling me to stop hiding.” “It was Mach who convinced me to give people a chance.” The Vent appeared genuinely surprised.
“That sounds irresponsible.” “It worked.” “Fair point.” The memory shifted again.
A schoolyard.
A nervous conversation.
A group of children.
And something unexpected.
Acceptance.
“They weren’t afraid of me.” Kirran smiled.
“They weren’t uncomfortable.” “They weren’t bothered by the chair.” “They just wanted to be friends.” The realization had changed everything.
Turns out— Most of the fears he’d carried around weren’t real.
They existed only in his own head.
“The kids were more accepting than I thought.” Suzanne nodded.
“They usually are.” Kirran smiled.
“Yeah.” “They usually are.”