“Did you know about that?” Syn asked.
“And who is Neci?”
Syn glanced back to the hatch. “She’s…”
Blip spoke for the first time in a few minutes, “One of the Eves.”
Olorun laughed, “Egg, I told you to shut up. Now, if you want any help, you’ll stay quiet so daughter Syn and I can talk. Understood?”
Blip nodded.
“You coulda left your pet chihuahua behind,” Olorun said.
“The ship, please?” Syn asked, “What do we do? It’s breaking apart.”
“Oh, wheee… You are persistent. Fine. But you sure you know what you’re asking?”
“I think so… I need you to detach the Disc before it breaks off and hurts the needle. It’s about to break the entire ship. We’ll all die.”
“No, you will all die. I think I’ll do just fine on my own. So once again, is that what you want? Tell me if it is.”
The room shook again, and Syn tumbled against the wall.
Syn lost control—she had been cut off too many times, and the threat of the grinding needle consumed her. She screamed, “It’s going to kill us! They’re going to die!” Her face was red. Her hands were balled into fists, and sweat flew off of her as she yelled. “Do it! Save us! Get rid of that other Disc.”
Everything went white.
The light was so bright that Syn shut her eyes tight. With her eyes shut, she noticed that all sounds had stopped. There was no constant hum of the engines. The rattling strain of the separating Disc from the needle had vanished.
She let her eyes adjust and opened them again. Everything was still white. There was no detail. Above her, below her, on both sides… Everywhere was white. Blazing, brilliant white.
Syn floated alone in the emptiness of it.
“Hello?” she squeaked out. She had screamed before, yet, against the stillness, her voice seemed much louder than her screams.
“Give me a moment,” came the voice of Olorun. Seconds passed, and then the voice said, “There.”
Before Syn, a bright blue image of the Olorun itself appeared. Soundless, the second Disc—the ruptured one—split out from the needle into quarters. Then those quarters broke. The damaged section seemed to shatter into a thousand pieces. The individual slices gently floated off from the needle.
“Is that real?”
Olorun said, “Do you mean ‘Is that actually happening?’”
Syn nodded.
Olorun said, her voice full and calming, “Yes, then. That Disc is gone. Neci’s world has been removed.”
Syn brightened, “You said you didn’t know who she was!”
“No, I asked you who she was. I would still like to know your answer. Who is Neci?”
“I told you. She was one of the Sisters. An Eve. I’m a copy of her. Or she’s one of me. I’m not sure how it works.”
A figure appeared. A young woman. Syn immediately saw the resemblance: the same dark skin, dark eyes, the dark, twisting hair. Yet, there were differences. She seemed to be the same age as Syn but was shorter. Her muscles were less defined. She had far more weight on her than Syn. Olorun chimed, “This is Kabo. You are her copy. So is Neci.”
“Oh,” Syn said. Her lips formed the word more than she spoke it aloud. The girl was beautiful, no doubt. There was also something else in her eyes. There wasn’t that crazy hunger, the darting eyes of Neci, Kerwen, or Taji. Or of Syn herself. This girl seemed content.
“Kabo was Captain Pote’s oldest daughter. When she turned eighteen, they took her DNA and set to work on you and the others.”
Captain Pote’s daughter? There were the two younger ones. Stace was the one Syn connected with—she had watched the girl’s videos over and over. In reflection, she had seen an older girl in photos. A third daughter?
“He definitely felt like you were his daughters. That was the hope. Build off of the Captain. Perhaps they assumed it would make you and the other Eves loyal. Daddy’s little girls.”
Syn shut her eyes. She generally did not cry, but her chest tightened, her emotions brimmed, and the tears started to roll. She held her mouth shut, willing the sensation back down.
“They tweaked you. Had to make you a bit different.”
The image of the girl faded, and Syn stood there alone. She remembered the first pictures of Pote on the screen—his warm voice, that ache to meet him, the expectation as she walked out, and the ever-growing uncertainty as she descended the Jacob the first time. That entire journey was marked by how she would first encounter him. The first thoughts had been, will he like me? They morphed throughout to a steadying, is he alive? and was he real? The thoughts transformed to the numbing echo of who am I? Perhaps she had meant for Pote to answer all of those. She sniffed and realized she had been crying. A few drops floated off of her cheeks and stayed in the air around her before fading into nothingness. Syn wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Forty-two daddy’s girls, and you’re the winner!”
Syn’s mouth dropped open. “This was a game?”
“I tease. No game. But you are the last one alive.”
“There’s still Pigeon.”
“Who?”
“There’s another Sister. Pigeon.”
“Oh. That’s right. Pipsqueak. She doesn’t count.”
“Yes, she does!” The anger was back and Syn found herself even more defensive than she had been. “How can you know all this stuff and forget Pigeon? How can you say she doesn’t count? That’s what Neci acted like!”
Olorun chuckled again—a light sound. “That’s the right answer. Pigeon does count. And the little robots count too, don’t they?”
Syn didn’t answer. She was getting frustrated with the word games and the back and forth. Blip was right—she was insane. Finally, she said, “Can I go please?”
Olorun spoke, but her voice was different—tempered, restrained, withdrawn. “Do you want to know what happens next? Or what happened before?”
Syn put her arms out, palms up and spun wildly. “What does that mean? Stop with the riddles.”
“I will only tell you one truth. A boon for pleasing me. A wish from a benevolent genie. One answer to one question. Do you want to know what happens next or what happened before you were awoken?”
Syn lifted her chin and shouted, “I don’t care!”
“You’re not much fun!”
“I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care!”
Olorun sighed. “There’s nothing you want to know?”
Syn folded her arms and shut her eyes. A moment passed in silence. Finally, Syn gave in. “How did the dumb bots get smart?”
Olorun let loose a huge chuckle. She was enjoying Syn’s ignorance. “Oh, that? That’s what you want to know?”
Syn furrowed her brow.
“You’ve met my good friend Barlgharel?”
Syn nodded. She didn’t like Olorun using the term “friend” with the Barlgharel. He was Syn’s friend. He should not be a mutual friend with this crazy over-grown bot.
“After a few decades, I decided I needed someone to talk to. I searched far and wide. ‘The Spirit of the Lord hovered over the water.’”
Syn coughed and then frowned.
“Not a fan of the classics?”
“Are you a god?”
“Maybe. The closest thing to it in this neighborhood. Anyway, I hovered and, well, what did my little eyes spy? A bunch of robots all racing around, helping their masters out dutifully. None of them had time for me. I looked and looked and talked and talked, and none of them talked back. Except for one. Down in the bowels of the ship, there sat a lonely sewer bot. His work was little, and he just meandered through the tunnels.”
Olorun’s voice shifted—she sped up as Syn’s attention slipped. “So, I talked to him. He wasn’t a great conversationalist. Simple responses. But he had time on his hands. We talked. As we talked, I tweaked his code a bit. Just a little nudge here or there.”