A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2)(59)

The kit cocked its head. ‘I just realised something,’ Sidra said.

‘What’s that?’

Sidra paused, worried that she should’ve kept the thought to herself. Given Tak’s reaction the last time they’d been together, she didn’t want to draw attention to her synthetic nature – but there was no point in hiding it any more, either. ‘Neither of us is speaking with an organic voice,’ Sidra said.

Tak blinked again. A soft chuckle came from her talkbox. ‘That’s true. That’s true.’ She thought for three seconds, and gave a glance toward the door. Pepper was no longer welding, but she was doing something involving tools and metal. Something rhythmic and punctuated. Something you couldn’t ignore if you were in earshot. Tak shifted her weight. ‘There is no way I can say any of this without sounding ignorant. But . . . okay. Stars, I’m really trying to not . . . offend you.’ She frowned. ‘This is new for me. That’s a poor excuse, but I mean – I’ve never had a conversation with an AI before. I’m not a spacer. I’m not a modder. I didn’t grow up on a ship. I grew up down here. And here, AIs are just . . . tools. They’re the things that make travel pods go. They’re what answer your questions at the library. They’re what greet you at hotels and shuttleports when you’re travelling. I’ve never thought of them as anything but that.’

‘Okay,’ Sidra said. None of that was an out-of-the-ordinary sentiment, but it itched all the same.

‘But then you . . . you came into my shop. You wanted ink. I’ve thought about what you said before you left. You came to me, you said, because you didn’t fit within your body. And that . . . that is something more than a tool would say. And when you said it, you looked . . . angry. Upset. I hurt you, didn’t I?’

‘Yes,’ Sidra said.

Tak rocked her head in guilty acknowledgement. ‘You get hurt. You read essays and watch vids. I’m sure there are huge differences between you and me, but I mean . . . there are huge differences between me and a Harmagian. We’re all different. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since you left, and a lot of reading, and—’ She exhaled again, short and frustrated. ‘What I’m trying to say is I – I think maybe I under-estimated you. I misunderstood, at least.’

Sidra’s pathways latched onto that, hard. Was Tak here to apologise? Everything that had been said pointed in that direction, and Sidra switched gears as fast as she could. ‘I see,’ she said, still processing.

Tak looked around the workshop, at the bins, the tools, the unfinished projects. ‘This is where you work.’

‘Yes.’

‘Were you . . . made here?’

Sidra gave a short laugh. ‘No. No, Pepper and Blue are friends, that’s all. They take care of me. They didn’t . . . make me.’ The kit leaned back in the chair, more at ease. ‘I don’t blame you for the way you reacted,’ she said. ‘I’m not even legal, much less typical. And I really am sorry for what happened in the shop. I didn’t know how the bots would affect me.’

Tak waved the concern aside. ‘Nobody knows they’re allergic to something until they try it.’

Sidra processed, processed, processed. The metallic banging out front had missed a few beats. ‘This . . . re-evaluation of yours. Does it extend to other AIs? Or do you merely see me differently because I’m in a body?’

Tak exhaled. ‘We’re being honest here, right?’

‘I can’t be anything but.’

‘Okay, well – wait, seriously?’

‘Seriously.’

‘Right. Okay. I guess I have to be honest too, then, if we’re gonna keep this fair.’ Tak knitted her long silver fingers together and stared at them. ‘I’m not sure I would’ve gone down this road if you weren’t in a body, no. I . . . don’t think it would’ve occurred to me to think differently.’

Sidra nodded. ‘I understand. It bothers me, but I do understand.’

‘Yeah. It kind of bothers me, too. I’m not sure I like what any of this says about me.’ Tak glanced at the kit’s arm. Faint lines marked where the tattoo had been. Pepper said they looked like scars, but they weren’t, not in the way that organic sapients meant. ‘What are you made out of?’

‘Code and circuits,’ Sidra said. ‘But you’re asking about the body kit, not me.’

Tak chuckled. ‘I suppose I am. Are you – is your body . . . real? Like something lab-grown, or . . .?’

The kit shook its head. ‘Everything I’m housed in is synthetic.’

‘Wow.’ Tak’s eyes lingered on the pseudo-scars. ‘Do those hurt?’

‘No. I don’t feel physical pain. I know when something’s wrong, either with my program or the kit. It’s not an enjoyable experience, but it’s not pain.’

Tak acknowledged that, still looking at the synthetic skin. ‘I have so many questions I want to ask you. You’ve got me thinking about things I’ve never chewed on. It’s not comfortable, realising that you’ve been wrong about something, but I

suppose it’s a good thing to do from time to time. And you . . . you seem like you have questions, too. You came to me because you thought I could help. Maybe I still can. So . . . if you don’t think I’m a complete *, maybe we can try again. Y’know, being friends.’