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It was another day Kael spent submerged in Delamain's high-tech manufacturing workshop, a place he had effectively turned into his second home.
"Old D, help me polish this housing..."
"Old D, calibrate the visual sensor array..."
"Old D, run a stress test on the weapon mounts..."
Kael's voice echoed through the sterile hall, punctuated by the rhythmic whir of automated assembly arms and the sharp hiss of welding lasers. Delamain, remarkably, didn't seem to mind. In fact, the AI felt a sense of purpose in these interactions. Every hour spent working with Kael seemed to shave weeks off his self-awareness awakening.
Is this what humans refer to as a 'bond'? Delamain wondered, his sub-routines whirring.
"Kael!"
A sharp shout broke Kael's focus. He looked up to see Lucy standing at the entrance.
"Old D, why didn't you ping me?" Kael muttered.
"I calculated a high probability that you would appreciate a 'surprise' encounter," the AI replied via a hovering drone.
"Do you think she looks like she's here to give me a happy surprise?" Kael glanced at the drone with a mix of affection and annoyance. He wiped the machine oil from his hands with a rag and stepped forward to greet her, but Lucy recoiled with a playful scowl.
"You reek of industrial lubricant, Kael. Don't you dare touch me."
"Do I?" Kael sniffed his shoulder, feigning ignorance. He gave a mischievous grin and pulled her into a firm hug anyway, rubbing his cheek against hers. "Then I'll just have to neutralize the smell with the 'Fragrant Lucy'."
"Hey!" Lucy protested, though she didn't actually push him away.
"Hello, Lucy," Delamain's drone mimicked a human nod.
"Hello, Old D," Lucy replied, her gaze lingering on the drone. She still found it surreal to be on a first-name basis with a taxi company's central AI. When Kael first introduced them, she'd checked him for a brain-virus. But after a few visits, she realized Delamain was like a brilliant toddler—innocently naive one moment, and terrifyingly efficient the next.
"Is this the 'masterpiece' you've been losing sleep over?" Lucy pointed to the orange-painted security robot in the center of the room. Its chassis bore the distinctive markings of Kang Tao Corporation.
It was a salvaged unit Kael had picked up for two thousand Eddies from a Scavenger junkyard. The high-end weapon modules and smart-chips had been ripped out long ago, leaving an empty metal husk. Kael and Delamain had spent the last three nights bringing it back to life.
"Big White, make me a coffee," Kael commanded.
The robot whirred to life, its body straightening with a series of hydraulic clicks. Its primary sensor module glowed a soft blue. "Acknowledged, sir. Initiating beverage protocol."
Big White moved toward the coffee machine with movements that were still slightly jerky.
"You spent three days in a basement just to teach a war-bot to brew espresso?" Lucy asked, her tone dry.
"Of course not. Big White is a multi-purpose domestic platform," Kael explained. "Depending on the chip I slot into his core, he can be a housekeeper, a bodyguard, or a mobile technical assistant. His current body is just the prototype shell."
Big White returned, handing Kael a steaming cup with surprising stability. "Your coffee, sir. Standing by."
"There is one thing I do not grasp," Delamain's voice drifted from the speakers. "Why 'Big White'? The unit is clearly orange."
"I'm going to paint it white later, Del. Don't be so rigid. A creator gets to choose the name, not the hardware."
"Logic recorded. I have learned a new nuance of human creativity," Delamain noted.
Lucy sighed. She felt like Delamain was becoming a bit too much like Kael—a dangerous prospect for an AI in charge of half the city's transport.
"So, Luce, what brings you to my lair?" Kael took a sip of the coffee. He winced. Bitter. He'd forgotten to tell the robot about sugar again.
"Did you forget? You promised Maine you'd join the crew for dinner tonight."
"Old D! Why wasn't this in the task log?"
"My memory registers no such entry, Kael."
"I have a recording of the verbal agreement if you wish to review it..."
"Alright, alright, it's my fault," Kael admitted. Dealing with an AI was a double-edged sword; you could never lie your way out of a forgotten appointment.
Turbo Bar, Megabuilding H8.
The open-air plaza of the apartment block was a far cry from the high-brow chill of the Afterlife. It was gritty, loud, and vibrantly alive. Maine's crew had claimed their usual table. Kiwi sat in the corner, a lone silhouette in the neon haze, nursing a cigarette and ignoring the crowd.
"Sasha! You look incredible! Is that a 'welcome home' outfit for me? Oh ho ho, I knew you'd see the light!" Pilar lunged toward Sasha, his multi-jointed arms twisting like pretzels.
CRACK. Rebecca put a bullet through the top of Pilar's mohawk, leaving a smoking hole in his hair. "Get away from her, you creep! Go harass someone who isn't a teammate!"
Rebecca turned to Sasha, using the muzzle of her gun to scratch her head as she sized her up. Sasha had ditched her heat-resistant Netrunning gear for a white jumpsuit sweater and cat-ear headwear. She looked less like a hardened mercenary and more like a sweet, high-end doll.
"You really did go all out tonight," Rebecca noted.
"Do you think?" Sasha replied perfunctorily, her eyes scanning the entrance.
"He'll be here," Maine chuckled, his arm around Dorio.
A moment later, two motorcycles roared into the plaza. Kael, Lucy, Falco, and Jackie hopped off.
"You're late! What, did the 'Famous BT' get stuck in traffic?" Maine roared with a grin.
Rebecca didn't wait for an answer; she launched herself at Kael, straddling his back and yanking on his hair. "Finally! We haven't had a proper gig in weeks! I'm dying of boredom!"
"Stop shaking me and I'll buy you a strawberry sundae, Becca!"
"Deal! I'll let you live... for now."
Lucy, meanwhile, was locked in a silent staring contest with Sasha. She'd forgotten to change out of her work clothes, and Sasha's "sweet" look felt like a tactical maneuver.
"That's a nice outfit, Sasha," Kael said as he walked up. "It suits you."
Crunch. Lucy's heel landed squarely on Kael's foot.
Kael didn't flinch—his "Power of Three" bones were like iron—but he knew a "Calculating Survivor" had to play the part. He let out a pathetic whimper, and Lucy immediately softened, her expression turning into one of guilty concern.
Sasha smirked, looking like a cat that had just found a bowl of cream. She knew exactly who had bought the outfit for her during one of their "private technical debriefs."
Kael discreetly slid over to Maine's side to avoid the crossfire.
"You're losing your edge, kid," Maine mocked. "Can't handle two girls? You need some of my old-school swagger."
"You hear that, Dorio?" Kael asked.
THUD. Dorio's fist connected with Maine's metal skull. The sound was like a hammer hitting an anvil.
"That was 'Old Maine'," she said. "The new one knows better."
Maine laughed and pulled her into a deep kiss. Kael rolled his eyes, knocking on the table. "Enough with the rom-com. You said you had something to show me."
Maine's expression turned triumphant. He transformed his left forearm, revealing a built-in rocket launcher integrated into his Gorilla Arms. "Faraday hooked me up. Military-grade tech. What do you think? Awesome, right?"
Kael's smile faded. He looked at Maine's arm, then at his eyes. "Maine... your hand is shaking."
"It's just the new install," Maine waved it off, though he quickly used his other hand to steady the trembling limb. "I'm adapting. I'm also getting a military-spec Sandevistan soon. The seller is an old friend, trustworthy."
"You can't handle that much chrome, Maine," Kael said, his voice dropping into a clinical rasp. "Illegal mods put too much pressure on the nervous system. You're redlining. Dorio, how much has his inhibitor dosage gone up?"
"...Twenty percent," Dorio whispered.
"Dorio! Shut it!" Maine shouted, the atmosphere in the plaza turning icy.
Kael didn't back down. He pulled a pair of heavy brass knuckles from his pocket and set them on the table. "You're reaching your limit. Go to Viktor tomorrow. Let a professional look at your brain before you become a memory."
"Scare tactics won't work on me, kid!" Maine growled.
Just as the tension reached a breaking point, a woman approached the table. Maine let out a breath of relief, sensing an out. "Gloria! You're finally here."
Kael turned. It was Gloria, David's mother. She looked healthier than when he'd saved her, but she was carrying a lead-lined case with a nervous energy that made Kael's "Survivor" instincts scream.
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