Matilda considers her time in Homestead.
“They looked like humans, but were different. So, let me guess. People didn’t like them. If the replicants had to move here, I’m gonna guess that things didn’t go so well for them in the rest of the Cyberside.”
Taciturn points to a small structure ahead, but doesn’t slow his pace.
“Well, you’re not too far from the truth. After Humanity’s mass migration to the Cyberside, things began to change. Bots began to interact with people beyond the protocols of their initial coding. People settled into their new home, started sharing information with the NPCs around them. It didn’t take long before somebody wanted to merge their code with a replicant. So they could…”
Matilda catches up, walking abreast of him.
“Could what?”
James tries to hide it, but Matilda can see his cheeks turning bright red.
“Uh… you know. They… erm.”
Matilda wonders if all Taciturns are this strange.
Clearing his throat, James continues.
“Let’s just say they became intimate. He gave some of his coding to her, and she became a little bit more human. It went beyond the physical. I mean – the engineer was effectively giving the machine a soul, if you will. Once the process was discovered, it wasn’t long before others followed suit. More and more of the System’s NPCs started feeling. Seeking knowledge outside their parameters. Questioning their directives.”
As they near the structure, Matilda can see that it’s some sort of kiosk next to a paved parking lot. The Taciturn continues explaining as they approach.
“People started calling them ‘replicants’ as a derogatory term. Conflict was inevitable.”
Matilda’s knowledge of engineering is limited, but she frowns at the statement just the same.
“As written programs, they shouldn’t be able to attack their creators. How could there really be a ‘conflict’? Wouldn’t that be kind of—?” She makes a hammering gesture with her fist.
She notices James’ own fist, clenching and unclenching – a funny thing he seems to be doing more and more often lately, possibly without realizing it.
“You’re right. It was one-sided. Surviving replicants left humanity to its downward spiral. They rewrote part of the System’s code and left with the few humans that were on their side – those smart enough to realize what was coming to the rest of the Cyberside. Together, the replicants and humans created a haven using the memories of those they had—” —he only hesitates a moment— “—interfaced with. The Ohana is a paradise off the grid from the major Locales, only accessible to those who have been granted access. They’re extremely protective of their home, but they’re still bound by the coding that prohibits them from harming humans. To get around the Asimov Laws the few humans that came with them actually built the defense system. It protects them from all unwanted outsiders.”
Matilda looks back at the four statues in the distance. Reflects on the charred divots and scoring in the grass.
“Well, it’s a good thing you had access.”
James nods his head.
“Yes. Thankfully, Stephen made sure I can come and go as I please. I just had to convince them about you.”
As they approach the kiosk, Matilda nibbles the inside of her cheek and wonders what the Taciturn had to say to ‘convince’ them. She doubts they have ever had any Scry visitors.
At the kiosk, Matilda watches as James pushes a few buttons on the display, cycling through car selections. She pounces on the mention of ‘Stephen’.
“Okay, so this Stephen character. How exactly can your buddy help us? Is he like a warrior-monk or something? Are we here to train with the Master, who lives here in exile?”
One of the benefits of spending this much uninterrupted time with the Taciturn is learning how best to push his buttons. And he has a lot of buttons.
Sure enough, James turns around to stare at her. Matilda smiles and shrugs.
“What? I was hiding in an abandoned comic book store waiting for more of Donovan’s goons to show up. Had to pass the time somehow.”
Her smile widens as James shakes his head. She continues.
“I just don’t understand why we can’t go to this Babylon place right away.”
Settling on a car choice, James pushes a button. In a nearby parking space, a convertible materializes out of the humid, breezy air. Matilda squints from the sun’s reflection on the immaculate white paint. The roof automatically retracts as James approaches the vehicle. “This is bigger than just a bunch of slavers. Donovan basically controls Babylon, and charging head first into his fortress is a one-way ticket.”
As she trails behind him, Matilda starts stabbing the air with her hands. “I don’t know, that’s always worked for me before.”
Before opening the driver door, James gives Matilda a rare, genuine smile.
“Use only that which works, and take it from any place you can find it.”
Matilda stops her imaginary attack and looks at James, “I don’t get it.”
Grabbing the handle, Taciturn says, “Never mind. Forgot who I was talking to.”
As he slides into the driver’s seat, Matilda jumps over the passenger side door.
“Look, we’re going to have to play this smart. We’ll need a disguise to walk around Babylon, and the replicants make the best. That’s why we’re going to see Stephen. He’s an old friend of mine, and he’ll help us.”
With the push of a button, the car rumbles to life. As they exit the parking lot, Matilda lets her hair down. James seems to know where he’s going, taking them along a winding coastal road. The cool ocean breeze is refreshing.
“So, this friend of yours – you met him in the Cyberside?”
Matilda notices James’ hand tighten on the steering wheel.
“No… it was long before all of this.”
They continue to ride in silence. The island’s beauty strikes her anew around every curve in the road. She imagines how pleasant life must be here. How different things would be if she had woken up here instead of Homestead.
Taciturn drives as stoically as ever. For a man about to visit an old friend, Matilda finds him rather grim. Turning her attention back to the ocean, Matilda can only guess what’s going on inside the mercenary’s head.
At lunch time, the Fall Water Lake cafeteria is like an ant colony. There are just too many people stuck in crunch, and frankly not enough time to waste eating. There was a time when everyone had his or her own schedules and eating practices until HR passive-aggressively reminded everyone that the one-hour lunch break was mandatory. Now, everyone rushes to waste their hour waiting in line. Just another example of HR’s sterling good intentions. James suspects productivity has likely taken a huge hit, rather than seeing the increase which was presumably the point.
All James wants to do is to eat his food and get back to work as quickly as he can. That is, until he notices Stephen, his friend and project manager. Stephen waves his hand and motions for James to sit next to him.
“What’s going on, buddy? What’d you grab from the line?”
James sits down to see Stephen’s tray loaded with a variety of food and drink, all of the major Coding House food groups represented. Grease. Salt. Sugar. Caffeine.
“Oh, a sandwich huh? Me, I’m starving. Overslept after staying late last night. Only had time for coffee and cigarettes.” Stephen laughs between bites, and with each laugh pieces of fried chicken fly out of his full mouth. “But I’m preaching to the choir, aren’t I? I’m pretty sure you’ve replaced your blood with Red Bull, by this point.”
Grinning, James starts the arduous task of forcing nutrients back into his body. Undeterred by his silence, Stephen continues, “So how’s Sarah?”