Taciturn frowns–partly at her tone, partly at her use of his name – but doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he activates his backpack’s inventory, navigating menus and folders until he finds an item long stashed away. Recalling it, James retrieves a simple, nondescript whistle. At the sight of it, Matilda steps forward.
“What the hell is that?”
He cracks his back, rolls his shoulders, and allows himself a slight smile.
“The right tool for the right job. It’s been a while since I’ve needed to use this, but if horses are nearby, this should bring them.”
He turns to Matilda.
“You, uh, might want to cover your ears.”
He raises the whistle to his lips and a loud, piercing shriek splits the still valley air. Matilda winces and jams her palms over her ears, uselessly after the fact.
“What the crap, dude? We want them to come to us, not run away!”
Taciturn chuckles, stuffing the whistle back into his bag. “I have a good feeling about this, for once.” He leans against one of the chipped pillars, which creaks under the weight. “Trust me. We won’t have to wait long.”
Rubbing her ears simply to make the point, Matilda joins him. The stillness holds for a minute before Matilda finally asks, “So, uh, you’re saying that whistle thing was used by Engineers in the early stages of the Cyberside, huh?”
James nods, scanning the horizon. Matilda inches closer to him.
“So… how did you get one?”
Taciturn has no interest in encouraging this line of questioning. Instinctively, he cuts the exchange before it can start.
“I understand we’re going to be working together, but I’m not comfortable telling things about myself to a Scry.”
It comes out worse than he intended, and as the offending word leaves his lips, Matilda visibly recoils. Closing his eyes, Taciturn is surprised at the slight tinge of regret he feels.
“But. I appreciate the curiosity. Let’s just say that I know things about the Cyberside for a reason, and I’ll use that knowledge to get us wherever we need to go in one piece. Think of it as a bonus employee skill set.”
Matilda is clearly unimpressed with his attempts at backpedaling – but before she can respond, their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of three horses. The animals emerge from behind a service building and casually trot into the courtyard. Thankful for the distraction, James grabs his bag and approaches the nearest of the creatures. Its chestnut hair is rough to the touch, and James pats the animal slowly.
“See, I told you…”
Matilda has already approached the two other horses. A white stallion trots forward to Matilda. The other, a black mare, waits nearby, its dark hair gleaming in the morning sunlight. James holds his breath as Matilda approaches the two creatures. The stallion stomps closer but the mare waits anxiously at the courtyard’s edge. Looking back out at the grassland, it seems ready to gallop away.
Slowly, step by step, Matilda makes her careful way past the stallion. Transfixed on the female, the Scry mutters words of comfort.
“Easy, girl. You’re okay. You don’t have to worry. I’ll take good care of you.”
Matilda continues toward the black horse, and it snorts anxiously. Extending a hand, Matilda finally touches the creature’s black coat. The mare immediately stops. Suddenly calm, the horse nuzzles Matilda’s shoulder with its nose. Turning around, the Scry smiles brightly at her traveling companion.
“She’s amazing!”
Unsure of what he has just witnessed, he mutters a quiet, “Yeah. She sure is.”
After securing his gear, James mounts his own horse. Together, they make their way back to the main road and resume their hunt for the slavers.
Content with the travel time saved by riding on horseback, James suggests a break from riding. They rest at the first farm they encounter, seeking shelter from the midday heat. Like the wagon station, the ranch house is completely deserted and in disrepair. As James gathers water from a well, he wonders if this is the handiwork of the slavers they’re currently hunting.
After pouring the water into a trough, James joins Matilda in the shade of the house’s porch. Sitting down, he pulls out an energy bar and starts unwrapping it. Without looking, he can sense Matilda eyeing the bar eagerly. He no sooner extends the snack to the Scry than it is snatched from his grasp. He unpacks another bar, and the two chew in silence, watching the horses greedily lap up water from the trough.
Finished with his bar, James lights a cigarette. As the smoke rises in the afternoon air, Matilda points at the two animals.
“So, explain this to me. Why do you have to keep them alive? You said yourself that they were just used by Engineers as transportation. What’s the point of eating? Like, aren’t we all just, zeros and ones on a server?”
Taciturn stretches his legs.
“Sure, and those servers are located in secure facilities deep underground. Thankfully, they’re far away from the destruction on the surface, but they still need to be maintained. They’re run by automated drones that follow rules and routines in order to keep the hardware running efficiently. Without the drones’ coding in place, everything would break down. Likewise, the System has established rules in order to keep the Cyberside running. I don’t know, maybe eating has something to do with how our consciousness works. As humans, if we don’t go through certain motions, we can’t cope with this world not actually being physical. Regardless, it’s a rule the System was designed to follow.”
Matilda continues to watch the animals.
“That’s kind of a ‘fuck off’ answer. ‘It’s that way because that’s the way it is?’ If everything has to follow rules, there shouldn’t be things like slavers, but there are. The System should do something to stop it.”
James draws deeply on the cigarette, reflecting on what the Scry girl has said.
“Sometimes when rules are established, people can find ways around them. Ultimately, what the slavers are doing is adjusting the rules of traffic for their own gain.”
Matilda throws a rock into a nearby field.
“What the hell is traffic?”
James takes another drag and exhales a reflective plume of smoke.
“All those ‘zeros and ones’ are the code of unique personalities. As data sources, every person sends constant requests and demands to the System. That’s called ‘traffic’. The more traffic that’s generated by a region, the more the System allocates priorities and resources to meet the demand. So, high traffic volume essentially means a bigger budget for the entities overseeing it. More budget means more influence.”
Matilda crumples the energy bar wrapper in her hand.
“So, you’re saying the more traffic you control, the wealthier you are. So, someone at the top is probably organizing all of this.”
He makes a note of how quickly she processes information.
“Yeah, but there’s more to it. If a location has too few active users on it, the System can forcibly relocate the inhabitants and shut down the underperforming Location, to optimize energy consumption”
She cracks her neck and looks at him.
“You’re describing a structure that just rewards you for having the most people, and if its ruler steals from somebody else, they can potentially shut down a rival. Who’s the idiot that came up with this great idea?”
Taciturn holds his hands up, palms outward.
“Now, hold on a minute. The process was created to furnish Locales that promoted the well-being of their inhabitants. Administrators that governed justly would attract more followers and resources. That was the idea, anyway.”