Donavan observes the two with what could pass for giddiness.
“Please let me know if I chose incorrectly. I can have something else brought in. As host, I feel it’s only polite.”
James glances at the offerings. Matilda notes James’ wistful expression as he regards the sealed, fresh pack of cigarettes on the tray. Even the cigarette packaging looks somehow inordinately expensive, enticing. Instead, James takes the worn, crumpled cigarette pack from his own pocket and pulls one out.
“We ditched the need for pleasantries a while back now, Donovan. Time to explain what the hell is going on.”
Donovan grins and nods in firm agreement.
“Fair enough. I’ll get right to the point. Something is happening with the System that threatens all of us.”
James pauses in the act of lighting his cigarette. He locks eyes with Donovan.
“What are you talking about?”
The same question burns in Matilda’s mind, although her first instinct is to ask it with nothing like the Taciturn’s calm detachment. It must show on her face. Donovan turns his attention from James to her, and Matilda’s words catch in her throat. Up close, she’s equally fascinated and appalled by the deadness of Donovan’s eyes, in such stark contrast to his grinning mug. Donovan begins speaking again, still looking at her. Matilda suppresses a shudder.
“All this time and you’re still out of touch, James. Unable to see the big things right in front of you.”
Donovan’s eyes focus back on James. Matilda exhales a breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding.
“Let me try to paint this with broader strokes you’ll understand. Unlike you, I’ve always been a ‘bigger picture’ kind of guy.”
Donovan immediately holds up his hands, as if warding off a blow, “Now I’m not saying that what you do is wrong. I just look at things differently. It’s why I ultimately control one of the System’s four key regions, and you… well.”
Taciturn now openly glares at him through the clouds of smoke but doesn’t say anything. Donovan continues.
“Nevertheless, I can’t believe that one of the foremost engineers in this world simply doesn’t pay attention. No. How could you not see the little changes in the System, the little deviations from the world you helped design? They’re happening more frequently than ever.”
Donovan leans forward, and Matilda can hear the barely-contained excitement thrumming in his compelling, sonorous voice.
“In fact, I would say that you’ve seen some of these deviations firsthand.”
Donovan gestures with his cigar ever-so-slightly at Matilda, raising his eyebrows at James. James exhales a long, deliberate plume of smoke that Matilda assumes was meant to waft over Donovan’s face, but the Babylonian ruler has already turned back to the window.
James speaks to the back of his head: “I focus on the problems I can control.”
“Yes, I’m sure you think that.” Donovan says.
With Donovan facing the window, Matilda reaches for the dog tag around her neck. Since Homestead, she has known there is something more to James than he lets on. He remains unique among the hunters sent after her – and not just because he is the only one she has allowed to stay alive. Sure, his thorough knowledge of the Cyberside could be attributed to his travels, but there are other things – like his engineering horse whistle. But a lead engineer! Part of the team that created the Cyberside. That was a surprise. She reflects on their first meeting, gripping the tag ever tighter.
Donovan lets out a sudden, harsh laugh that startles Matilda. “Forgive me, James, but I do believe you’re a liar. You chose the ridiculous path of a Taciturn, trying to limit this world’s impact on your mind, when you could have fully embraced it.”
Donovan casually points a finger at Matilda, but this time he does not look at her.
“You’ve devoted yourself to hunting anomalies? Isn’t that paying attention to the details at a micro-level?”
Matilda squirms in her chair. Donovan knows exactly what she is.
She opens her mouth to say something, anything – but she’s cut short by another dry response from the Taciturn.
“Let’s not waste time on semantics. Get to the point, Donovan.”
Still grinning, the leader of Babylon continues patronizingly.
“Of course. I didn’t bring you here to argue.”
Donovan reaches for his brandy.
“The fact is that the System has been evolving, maturing. You haven’t denied it. So, I can assume you’ve seen it become more… involved.”
Taciturn clenches his fist on the padded arm of his chair but doesn’t interrupt.
“Normally I’d say this isn’t a bad thing – change can be good, and all that. But it’s starting to get out of control. If that happens, it affects everyone. If you don’t trust me, at least trust your sense of the greater good.”
Matilda can’t keep quiet with the exchange unfolding in front of her.
“Is somebody going to explain what’s going on, or should I just leave?”
James crushes out his cigarette in the ash tray, casting a quick, longing glance at the much nicer pack still on the silver tray. After a short pause, he lights another from his own sad, crumpled pack. Donovan remains silent, eyebrows politely arched, fingers tented expectantly.
“The System is established on a set of rules, but the original purposes of many of those rules have been subverted. Like with the traffic rule changes we’ve seen. And with each rule that gets changed or modified within the Cyberside, the System must either modify itself to accept the changes, or come up with alternatives to fix the underlying cause. As more things get out of hand, it becomes more and more likely that the System will start treating the cause of the problems as malware.”
Matilda shakes her head in disbelief, unable to stay out of this any longer.
“You’re saying the more people fuck up the Cyberside, the more likely the System will view people as a bug? That’s impossible.”
She sees the Taciturn flinch slightly, and suddenly fears she could be alarmingly wrong about this.
“There could be a… version of this where the System tries to correct the behavior. The result would be…”
Donovan finishes the sentence.
“Catastrophic. Well, at least for most. Despite all my attempts to make amends to you, I still don’t expect you to trust me. I do expect you to do what’s best for what you’ve helped build.”
Matilda’s mind wanders back to the samurai sword in the glass case. She vividly imagines herself slashing about with it as she throws herself back into their exchange.
“Okay, this reunion is great and all, but I came here to find out about who I am. You ready to explain why the hell you’ve been sending people after me?”
Donovan puffs from his cigar, causing the end to glow a seething red. He exhales, letting the smoke roil above his desk in a slow, wheeling carcinogenic galaxy, clearly relishing Matilda’s discomfort. He turns towards her again, and her skin crawls.
“Ah, my dear. That was all a simple misunderstanding, but let’s be blunt, shall we? You were killing my men. At the time, it made complete sense to stop you.”
A lie, Matilda thinks. She can’t bring herself to utter those words out loud, feeling paralyzed under Donovan’s cold, reptilian stare. Donovan continues, looking past them now, at the entire expanse of the room.
“But I see no reason to dwell on the past. I have a plan to fix all this, and it requires the both of you.”