When the sun rose to its highest point at noon, it smiled upon Matlal and his boat. The water in the canal was blue from the clear sky above, and it was clean enough to see through to the bottom. He gazed out onto the horizon, looking out at his home in the distance. The palm trees danced gently in the wind, covering a few little huts he passed earlier. Matlal smiled as the sun beamed off his brown skin, revealing a faint honeycomb pattern underneath. He was charging, and it felt good to relax amidst the cargo he was taking back home. He closed his eyes, letting the solar energy pulse through him.

Among the islands Matlal frequently visited, Ethulo had the most interesting finds, and he was more than willing to trade his island’s signature fabrics for them. The craftsmen would surely enjoy the new tools he picked up, and the new soaps would be beneficial to the seamstresses who frequently washed clothes, or so he assumed. He couldn’t wait to dock his boat and deliver the cargo to the community center.

THUMP!

Jolting forward, Matlal nearly fell out of his boat in response to the sudden bump. He glanced over the sides to see what knocked into him. It was a long white box, about the same length as himself, with a blue symbol he’d seen once before. His eyes widened as he realized what the box was.

“Ah, shit,” he said under his breath, trying to reach for a rope. “There must have been a flood or something.” 

Matlal leaned over the edge of his boat to grab hold of the box. It was a little heavier than he expected, but not too much for him to manage. As he suspected, there was a set of handles on the sides of the box for him to loop his rope through to secure it. He gazed out onto the horizon and could see the docks in the distance. Just a little further, he thought to himself, and he could get this taken care of. Glancing back down at the box, he tried to find any other identifying marks. There weren’t any on his end, and he figured there might be some on the other side. He had to save his inspection for the docks, as he could see people walking out from behind buildings to greet him.

“HELP!” he called out in his native tongue.

It was hard for Matlal to hear from so far away, but he figured the other islanders were trying to ask him what was wrong. He stood up and waved his hands in the air, feeling his long black hair tap against his hands in the wind. As he slowly drew closer to the docks, he started to understand what the islanders were saying.

“I found a coffin!” He shouted, pointing to the white box attached to his boat. “It’s from one of the other islands!”

“Go to the shore!” The others shouted back.

Matlal sat back down and waved his hand against the boat’s control panel. It was already set to arrive at the docks, and he changed the GPS to dock on the shoreline. The boat immediately darted left, almost knocking him off. He kneeled down and waited for his boat to arrive. Once he got close enough to shore, he could clearly see a group of islanders with all sorts of tools, ready to assist him.

The boat slid onto the shoreline and tilted upward to stop its momentum. Matlal held onto the sides for dear life, and once the boat powered down, he stood up to brush his hair out of his face. The others were just as puzzled as he was, and they all crowded around the coffin to investigate.

Matlal jumped off his boat and untied the ropes to free the coffin. “It bumped into me while I was on my way back,” he said, tying his hair back. “I didn’t look inside. I just know that the blue symbol means it’s from one of the other islands.”

Chimalli was the first to put his hands on the casket, listening to Matlal. “We need to report this,” he said, gesturing for the others to grab the handles. “Let’s at least get it out of the water. If it washes out to sea again, who knows where it’ll end up.”

Matlal helped the crew push the coffin further up the shore until the water couldn’t touch it anymore. He walked around the perimeter, looking for any other identifying symbols. 

“There’s…no barcode,” said Zyanya, placing her hands on her hips. 

“What do you mean there’s no barcode?” Chimalli asked. “Are you sure? Check again.”

“There’s no barcode. Look around.” 

Matlal furrowed his brow, checking himself to see if the coffin had a barcode. After a few steps in each direction, his puzzled expression stiffened. Zyanya was right. The coffin didn’t have a barcode.

“If there’s no barcode,” Matlal began, “then how are we supposed to report it? I know we have to bring it to the community center, but still. How are they gonna be able to look up where the coffin came from?”

“Maybe it was a sea burial,” said Chimalli, looking over the coffin again.

“I doubt that. Nobody around here would want to pollute the sea with android parts,” Zyanya butted in. “It could have been incomplete.”

Matlal nodded. “That makes sense. Maybe, wherever it came from, the morticians didn’t get a chance to etch a barcode into it.”

Chimalli kneeled down to figure out where the coffin opened. “We can just bring it back to the mainland and let them deal with it,” he said, still overlooking the coffin. 

“Wait!” Matlal shouted with a sudden idea. “There might be something inside that we can scan. Don’t bodies normally have barcodes for a death certificate? Let me scan the body and see what island it’s from.”

“What the fuck? No!” Chimalli spoke with disgust. “Respectfully, what is wrong with you? Put that shit back in the ocean. I’m sure it’ll wash ashore somewhere else.”

Completely ignoring Chimalli’s remarks, Matlal knelt down to see the latch holding the lid of the coffin in place. With the press of a button, the lid popped open like the trunk of a car, revealing a faint silhouette inside. Once he removed the lid, Matlal could see the body in its entirety.

It was a young man, tall with a muscular build. He had the same skin tone and long, black hair that Matlal did. He was handsome for a dead guy, Matlal thought. The first thing that stuck out was the tank top the man was wearing. It seemed to have a flag printed on it. Matlal had seen this flag on his island and several other islands, but never got around to researching the flag. All he could make out was a big blue triangle with a white star in the middle, and red and white stripes. There was no indication of what the flag represented.

Other than the tank top, the man wore tattered denim shorts and what looked to be leather sandals. Matlal leaned in closer to get a better look at the body. He assumed the man passed from natural causes, seeing as there was no physical damage. Unfortunately, there was no barcode on the body for Matlal to scan, and there wasn’t anything on the inside for him to investigate. As far as he knew, this was a John Doe situation.

Matlal was determined to get to the bottom of this. Carefully, he pressed his first two fingers to the man’s head in order to gently turn it. Maybe the barcode is on the side, he thought. After turning the man’s head on both sides, he sought to check the arms.

Matlal could sense someone standing behind him. To his surprise, it was Chimalli who knelt down to help investigate. Matlal grabbed the man’s wrist and checked every inch of skin for identification. Chimalli followed suit on the other arm, rolling his eyes once he realized this was getting them nowhere.

“See?” Chimalli said. “There’s nothing, and this is starting to get weird. Let’s send it back to the mainland.”

“Hold on,” uttered Matlal, deep in thought. “I know I’ve never seen a dead guy before, but maybe the barcode is on his chest?”

“Fuck no!” Chimalli shouted. “For real, you need to stop. Checking the arms was already crossing the line. Close it back up and— MATLAL!”

Completely ignoring Chimalli’s demands, Matlal had already lifted the man’s shirt and frowned. No barcode. With his first two fingers, he gently pressed around the center of the man’s chest. From what he could feel, it seemed like the man wasn’t built like the other islanders. Matlal sat backwards, perplexed at the condition of the body.

“Chimalli,” he said, turning to face his friend’s bewildered gaze. “I don’t think this guy is an android. I think he’s an Amp, like us. And I don’t think he’s dead.”

Chimalli took a step back. “How do you know?”

“He might be damaged, but he can’t be dead.” Matlal pointed to the man’s chest. “My dad said androids go completely offline when they die, but Amps have background processes that keep running after they die. I’m picking up some network activity, and it’s not from anyone here.”

Chimalli sighed, throwing his arms in the air. “Great, now we have an actual case on our hands!”

Matlal rolled his eyes. “If you’re gonna complain the whole time, you can leave. I wanna get to the bottom of this.”

Zyanya broke her silence. “We just don’t want the mainlanders after us. You hate the mainland just as much as we do, so I’m sure you’d understand.”

“But what if this guy needs help?” Matlal flashed a concerned look towards the man, and then back to Zyanya. “There’s no way this was a simple mistake. I don’t care if the mainland comes after me for getting involved. I can’t just look the other way. You guys understand, right?”

Chimalli frowned. “I…I guess we would do the same if it was you.”

“Bullshit,” Matlal choked back a laugh, “you guys would shoot me from a canon straight into the Atlantic, and you would not give a fuck where I ended up. Don’t lie.”

“Oh, for sure!” Zyanya chuckled. “Look, we’re not trying to boss you around or anything. We’ll leave you to it, and if anything happens… I mean, we won’t let you die, at least.”

“Wow, I feel so special,” Matlal uttered, turning his attention back to the body. “You guys can go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later.”

He didn’t notice when Chimalli and Zyanya left. Matlal couldn’t take his eyes off the man in the coffin. Part of him wanted to tap into the man’s network and get to the bottom of this mystery. Another part of him felt weird about pressing down on the man’s power button. If it were anywhere else, he wouldn’t care. But the center of someone’s chest? Someone he doesn’t know? This was sure to be an awkward experience. Nevertheless, Matlal found himself hesitant to press the button. He sat with his hand hovering over the android’s chest, unable to commit to his decision.

“Just…fucking…do it…” He muttered to himself, closing his eyes.

Matlal nearly jumped at the sudden pressure against his wrist. To his surprise, he opened his eyes to see that Zyanya had forced his hand down onto the man’s chest. Like a computer booting up, he could hear the faint sound of fans running and noticed a glow from the man’s abdomen. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen an Amp power on; being an Amp himself, he knew the distinct neon glow from anywhere. Still, it was jarring to see someone whom he thought was dead come alive again.

“Battery low,” said the man, dimming his lights.

“Shit,” Matlal muttered to himself. “I know how to turn on my SolarSkin, but how do I make someone else turn theirs on?”

Zyanya shrugged. “Maybe Chimalli knows? I can get him for you.”

“Please do,” Matlal sighed. “I’ll run diagnostics on him.”

With the wave of his arm, a holographic beam shot out of his palm and washed over the android. It only took the blink of an eye to see a diagnostic panel out of Matlal’s eyes. It was like a projector, shining bright into the air and displaying a screen with technical jargon on it. Matlal almost choked at what he was seeing.

“Barely anything installed,” he muttered to himself, skimming through the information. “Two language packs and an auto-update? I’ve seen babies with more software…”

“Battery low,” the man repeated.

“Shut up,” Matlal said under his breath. “Wait, where’s all your…shit?”

Matlal quickly ran an analysis on the man’s internal system. From there, he couldn’t find any hardware or software issues, other than missing software. Upon viewing the man’s system info, he almost took a step back in disbelief. He fully expected to at least see a name and origin on screen. There was no information in the man’s system at all. Disappointment for Matlal was an understatement; he was at a total loss. 

Before he could think of a solution, Zyanya returned with Chimalli ready to help. Chimalli stepped forward, eyeing the glowing man curiously. 

“His battery’s low, I’m guessing?” 

Matlal nodded. “I don’t know how to turn on someone else’s SolarSkin. Do you?”

“You have to remote in,” Chimalli waved his hand in the same manner Matlal did for diagnostics. “Here, let me show you,” he said, pulling up a similar diagnostic menu. “You have to relink yourself to him before it’ll let you remote in. I’ll show you how to do it once you link.”

Matlal simply tapped his temple to initiate the link. After a few seconds, his eyes flashed bright green and then returned to normal. “Linked.”

“Now go to settings, and then remote connection. Then, you’ll choose what’s-his-name and connect. From there, you’d activate his SolarSkin the same way you’d activate yours. It should be in his power settings. Let me know if it doesn’t work.”

Without so much as a thank-you, Matlal had followed the instructions as Chimalli spoke. He stared at the man in the coffin, watching a hexagonal pattern wash over his skin. Gingerly, the man tried to lift himself up off the ground.

“Woah,” Matlal said under his breath, rushing over to the man. “Don’t move if you’re too weak. Do you need to charge up a bit? Or are you good?”

The man nodded, gently sinking back into the coffin. “Not weak. Just tired.”

“What’s your name?” Matlal asked, softening his voice.

The man closed his eyes. “Danny. I think.”

“You think?”

Matlal shook his head, still kneeling down by the coffin. Danny looked as if he had passed out; his eyes were closed and his body went limp. Matlal stood up, brushing warm sand off his knees. As he looked down, he noticed Danny’s skin was glowing neon orange, gradually getting brighter and dimmer with each breath Danny took. Matlal let out a sigh of relief.

“I’ll let you nap,” he said, unsure if Danny was even conscious. “Yeah, I’ll give you an hour to charge and then we’ll need to talk.”

Danny didn’t respond. 

Matlal glanced back at his friends, standing by in case anything happened. To everyone’s relief, Matlal seemed to have handled it. They waved for him to come over as they gathered vegetables for a group meal. A huge smile washed over Matlal’s face. He didn’t care what his friends planned for lunch. He just wanted to know the source of the mouthwatering aroma in the air. The closer he got to the fire pit, he could see an extremely faint cloud of color spices dancing around an open flame. Whatever they were cooking, it was sure to be sensational.