Chapter Nineteen – Hardware

Chapter Nineteen – Hardware

“In the 80s and 90s people kind of assumed that the future would be cyborgs. We have early sci-fi and movies like Robocop to thank for that, I think. There’s something romantic about a person combining their weak flesh and powerful technology.

Unfortunately, romantic and realistic aren’t the same.”

–Techtransitionalism, a video essay, 2040

***

I sat on my bike, adjusted my helmet, then finally decided to look at where I’d be heading to.

I had a noon-time appointment with one Peter Silverbloom, a man that I’d met in person all of once and yet whom I still kind of just… trusted.

Peter was a bit of a weirdo, but he wasn’t a bad sort. In fact, it was the opposite. He struck me as very nice. Not a saint or anything, but maybe the closest thing to that in a shithole like New Montreal. His service record was basically nothing but volunteer and non-profit work, and not the hyper-corporatized sort that was flashy and self-serving, but actual get-your-hands-dirty work.

And I had an appointment with him in about half an hour.

“So, where are you, Mister Silverbloom,” I muttered.

I’m assuming that was a rhetorical?

“More or less,” I said. “Did he send his location for this meeting?”

Via email three days ago, then he sent three corrections since.

“Wow, he really can’t decide where to meet? Is there a common thread here? Should I be worried about traps or something?” I asked. My map app opened up and pins appeared in the locations that I assumed he wanted to meet in. They were all lower city spots, mostly close to the more urban parts of the city, but that was the only common thread that I could see at a glance.

Every location is a different non-profit. I dug into it out of curiosity, and it mostly seems as though Peter is just a busy man. His attention is constantly being diverted to issues with different groups within the city. He is quite good at putting out metaphorical fires.

“Huh. I guess that makes sense. This guy’s not gonna live long if he’s spending this much time chasing after problems. He won’t be able to fix every problem in New Montreal.” I turned my bike on and then gently rolled it off the side of the building. My flight drooped for a bit before I started to fly properly and then did a long, slow circle of our home.

His success rate at solving those problems is quite impressive, and his record suggests someone who is genuinely selfless. I’m happy to see you help him as it might help a lot of others.

“You know, he sounds like a pretty good candidate for being a samurai,” I said. I’d never done any charity work before, and I was a bit of a bitch. I also couldn’t picture Peter blowing up the mayor. He’d probably convince even that old asshole to be a better man. Or he’d try, at any rate.

He has a lot of the traits that we search for. He lacks some others.

I locked in the last location Peter had sent me into the bike’s auto-piloting system, then let it lead me around and out across the city. “I don’t know. He sounds like a nicer guy than me.”

Niceness is desirable. Peter Silverbloom is too nice. His desire to be diplomatic at all times would be a hindrance. There are other factors as well, though they might be difficult to explain because of your cultural background.

“My cultural background?” I repeated.

You are human. You value human qualities.

That was needlessly cryptic and a bit creepy. I decided to cut that line of discussion off, it wasn’t going anywhere except to make me feel bad about myself. Besides, comparing yourself to others was a great way to fuck up an otherwise nice day.

Still, the thought worried at me. Would Myalis be disappointed that she was stuck with my dumb ass if there were others out there that were so much better?

I swooped down to the lower levels, then slipped into a parking garage on the ground floor.