Stephen remains silent while a cloud of smoke rises from his pipe. “Like I said, she seems nice enough. But do you really want to get involved with all of this? It sounds like you’re trying to open Pandora’s Box rather than close it.”
James lights another cigarette. “Yeah, I hear you, but it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. The two of us, we’ll just go see Donovan. Get some answers out of him. One way or the other.”
Stephen shakes his head. “It seems to me, buddy, that you and I have completely different understandings of what “not a big deal” means. You just need to ask yourself what you’re really doing this for… and if it’s worth it.”
They smoke in silence, looking out across the valley.
Finished with his tobacco, Stephen pushes himself out of his chair with a groan. “Well… I know well enough that a visit from you usually means work for me. So, what do you need?”
James tosses his cigarette into a bucket at the foot of the porch steps. “The Scry is being hunted. As soon as we get into the Babylon Basin, we’ll be flagged by every one of Donovan’s thugs.”
Stephen absently cleans his pipe. “So, you need a mask, sure. But Scry are difficult to disguise. They have a very specific profile signature, for those who know what to look for. And Donovan has some of the best trackers. All I can do is try. Your system, by the way, could also use a pretty substantial firmware update there, Taciturn.”
James nods.
“Thanks, Stephen. You’re the best.”
Stephen nods right back. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s save the praise until I actually finish. I’m going to need some time to write her code and update yours. I’ll need your module.”
James takes off his watch and hands it over. “Seriously, Stephen – thanks. Do you need any help with it?”
Stephen turns the equipment in his hands without looking up.
“No, I’d better do it myself. Go relax. Take a load off. I get the feeling it’s going to be a while before you get to again. There’s some beer in the fridge.”
James claps him on the shoulder. “That sounds perfect. I’ll go make sure Matilda is squared away, then grab a drink.” Stephen slaps James on the back in kind, before heading back into the house.
A few hours later, James sits in a rocking chair on the front porch. It’s late, but the cold beer in his hands isn’t going to drink itself. Nor would he want to deny it the same fate as its predecessors. James smiles, chuckles, and acknowledges that he is slightly drunk. He hears the clatter and hum of equipment in Stephen’s workshop. James wants to go in there and resume their talk about old times – about the world before all this. He knows it would only distract Stephen from his work. James evaluates the remaining contents of his beer bottle and feels content staying right here with the steady, soothing creak and cant of the rocking chair, the carefully-finished porch, the warm rush of the tropical evening air.
Laughter from inside the house draws his sluggish gaze. For creatures that were created without emotions, replicants sure have learned how to love each other. Love. The thought persuades him to take another heavy pull from the bottle.
Stephen chose to open his mind to a replicant, and he seems happy enough for having done it. But that happiness has come at a price. Sure, he lives in a clean, peaceful part of the System, while Taciturn wanders the badlands.
“But some things you can never get back,” he mutters to the night air.
He swirls the remaining beer around in the bottle and listens to the distant ocean. James is surprised at the replicants’ struggle to create a new world for themselves. Humanity’s attempt in the Cyberside isn’t faring nearly as well as what the replicants have managed to build. But if everyone here is at least part-human, how long until this falls apart along with everything else?
James shakes his head. When this fails to clear any of the cloudiness, he resigns to drink more. James knows why he’s with the Scry girl, and where he must go. The past has finally come back to challenge him. No matter how far he runs.
With the warm breeze gently conquering the last of his consciousness, James falls asleep in the rocking chair. This time, however, he sees no dreams of the past.
He falls into a warm, welcoming darkness, his mind logging off for the night.
In the morning, the sun warms the valley, bringing vibrant color to every blossom, bush and blade of greenery. Matilda leans against the door, watching the Taciturn slumbering peacefully in the uncomfortable-looking rocking chair. The clink of plates in the kitchen draws her back inside. Stephen is almost finished with his work, Samantha is setting the table, and the aroma of rich, flavorful coffee fills the air. Despite her initial issues with this place, Matilda doesn’t want to leave. The Ohana has a peacefulness to it that Matilda doubts she’ll find anywhere else.
Matilda mulls over her conversation with Samantha – which, despite a rocky and awkward start, went on well into the night. She knows now just how much she can enjoy being drawn into a conversation with someone else. Let it engulf you. Watch the time pass. And now here she stands, watching James still asleep in a chair on the porch.
She is thankful that James brought her here and introduced her to his friends.
As if summoned, Stephen places a hand on her shoulder.
“Morning, Matilda.”
She turns and sees a bleary-eyed, stubbled man exhausted from a long night of work.
“James asked me to make this for you. It should help conceal you, but he never told me what form the program should take. I chose this one for you. It just seemed to fit. Here you go.”
He places a silver necklace with an exquisitely-crafted pendant in her hand. The pendant is in the shape of a key.
“Um… thanks, Steve.”
Samantha calls from the kitchen.
“Breakfast is ready, you two. Someone needs to go wake the sleepyhead.”
Stephen nods in James’ direction. “Will you go wake him up?”
Matilda can’t hide her surprise. “What? Why me?”
Stephen gives her a tired smile. “Because I smell bacon.” With a wink, he makes his way towards the kitchen.
Matilda laughs as she heads to the front porch.
“Hey James, time to get up,” But the rocking chair’s occupant remains motionless. Unsure of what to do, she tries again. “Seriously James. Rise and shine.”
Finally, a swift, summary kick to the feet startles James out of his slumber. He frantically looks at the spot on his wrist where his watch should be, failing to find it, before he remembers where he is.
Already heading to the kitchen, Matilda calls back over her shoulder:
“Yo, get your ass up or miss out on bacon, Taciturn!”
After breakfast, Matilda and James say their goodbyes to Stephen and Samantha. Samantha declares what a travesty it is, that they have not even visited the beach, but a glumly-determined Taciturn makes clear their urgent need to hit the road.
As James drives them along the coastal road back to the data kiosk, Matilda can still hear the surge and crash of the nearby surf under the sound of the engine, the rush of the air around them. Part of her would like to stay just a bit longer, but deep down, she’s eager to head to Babylon. If any of what Stephen said at breakfast is true, Matilda is ready.
When they arrive at the kiosk, James punches their destination into the terminal. Matilda takes in a deep breath of ocean air, letting it fill her lungs.
As she exhales, Matilda playfully stabs the air. James hasn’t told her much about this Donovan character or his Babylonian Empire. She’s still unclear why this guy is such a big deal.