Chapter Twenty-Eight – Feed Me Kibble

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Feed Me Kibble

“Samurai are strange, yes, but that strangeness is usually rather inoffensive.

But, still, it’s the opinion of this body that one should not force a samurai into a position in which they are uncomfortable.”

–The Russian Office of Psychological Studies, memo, 2039

***

“That was cool,” Lucy said as we stepped out of the class. She reached up, stretching her back. It had the benefit of pulling her shirt out from where it was tucked into the waistband of her skirt and exposing a tiny slip of belly.

“It was… honestly, boring as hell after the start,” I said.

“Aww,” Lucy said. “You didn’t like it?”

“I mean, the teacher was good. She didn’t seem to wanna be there, but I’ve got the impression that she has her shit together, you know? At least when it comes to political history and the like.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “I think this will be a good class, but I’m worried that I won’t get what I want from it. Not that it feels like what she’s teaching is bad.”

I nodded along. I think I knew what she meant. The class was a little generalized, and Lucy was looking for something a bit more niche and specific. “It’s still good stuff though, right?”

“Oh, yeah, and I think some of the students attending this one are very politically-minded. It could be nice to do an after-class social or something one day, pick their minds a little. I might want to talk to Professor Roswell too. Bet she’d be all-for a bit of activism if it means getting egg on the face of the school.”

Lucy was plotting plots again. I could remember when most of her energy was turned towards getting rid of nagging social workers, or messing up the lives of some of the people working in the orphanage who didn’t belong within a hundred metres of a vulnerable kid. This was a bit bigger, though. “Just… keep your sights on something that’s not too disastrous, alright?”

“Don’t worry. I might meme a bit about taking over the world, but I really just want what’s best for us,” Lucy said. “I see you being a big damn hero, and I don’t want to just be your cute girlfriend back home. I mean, I’m already that, obviously, so I need to aim higher, right?”

I snorted. She was trying to play coy, but I knew Lucy, she was aiming for the skies.

I was half expecting to find Nya waiting for us at the Bastion but the ship was left alone. It was actually kind of concerning. “Myalis, do you have any idea where Nya is?” I asked.

Certainly. Her AI and I have been chatting today, and Nya has joined in on the conversation a few times. She’s currently loitering around your place.

“Oh, great,” I said. “Wait… she can talk to other AI?”

Through her own, certainly. Did you want to join in? Obviously it would be a much reduced and many-times summarized conversation. You don’t have the mental bandwidth to keep up.

“And Nya does?” I asked.

No. She has a few implants and augmentations to help, but she is also… how do I put this delicately… She is like a particularly smart dog listening in to a conversation between two intellectually-capable professors discussing a subject they are deeply familiar with. Sometimes her tail wags when a word she understands comes up.

“Wow,” I said. “That’s… really insulting,” I said.

You, by contrast, and to continue this analogy, would be like a lonesome and particularly unintelligent flea in the same room.

“Ah, that’s more like what I expected. You really like painting yourself as all-powerful and smart, don’t you?”

Who doesn’t like pointing out the truth?

I sometimes wondered if my AI was particularly smug, or if all of them were like this. Maybe I should join in on some of their conversations to see if Myalis was as insufferable with her peers as she was with me.

I checked my schedule real fast, and nodded. According to Deus Ex’ little planner, tonight was when I was due to check in on Crackshot Cowboy. But… I had Nya to entertain, and no real idea of how long she’d be sticking around New Montreal for.

Lucy and I got in the Bastion and took off, heading homewards. On the way home, I did a little search, checking to see if I had a good idea of where Crackshot was, and when I couldn’t find anything, I resorted to just texting him.

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Cat: Hey, you good?
Crackshot: Hi!
Crackshot: Yes, I’m fine.
Crackshot: What’s up?
Cat: The laser munchkin gave me a job to check in on everyone. Tonight a good time to meet up?
Cat: You can say no
Cat: Plz say no
Crackshot: lmao! Nah, come on over. Bring some friends. EMN and I are at her place in the towers. Sending coords!

EMN had to be Emoscythe Mordeath Noir. I was surprised she allowed her boytoy to use acronyms at all.

The coordinates I received were for a place on the topmost floor of one of those mega-buildings with a huge mall in the centre of it. The same one Lucy and I had visited a while back to pick up some threads. I supposed that Emoscythe had a house there, as well as her offices.

I was almost home when I received another text, but this one was about a million times more concerning.