Mira put the manual in the “Curator’s Choice” display. She didn’t add a label. Some stories don’t need one.

“Problem: Parrot repeats only negative phrases. Solution: Isolate from toxic language for 48 hours. Offer sunflower seeds and classical music.” Next to it, a tear stain: “Didn’t work. Had to reset Pascal. He forgot ‘sorry.’ He forgot my brother’s laugh. He forgot my name. But he remembered how to whistle ‘Happy Birthday.’ I never taught him that.”

Mira closed the manual. Behind the last page, tucked into a plastic sleeve, was a single red feather and a photo: a young woman with a small blue-and-gold parrot on her shoulder. The bird’s chest port glowed faintly.

She opened the manual. The first page showed a diagram of a small macaw with a glowing data port on its chest. Next to it, handwritten in blue ink: “I named mine Pascal.”