HOLLYHOCKS

  “You ready?” asked Hollyhocks. On a private channel but Atesthas still had to do a quick check on the other ships around him in the hangar before he answered.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, a hundred per cent,”

  “Sure,” said Hollyhocks.

  “Yeah,”

  “Sure?”

  When Atesthas hadn’t come up with a response in a couple of fractions of a second it was pretty clear that he wasn’t. He knew that. “Nothing to worry about,” said Hollyhocks.“I know we’re calling this a prison as shorthand but it’s a-”

  “It’s a Free2Work, I know.” said Atesthas. “Debt reduction facility,”

  “Just a big factory, really,” said Hollyhocks. “Which means minimal security. We’re not expecting a fight. Raised voices at most. The rest of these guys know what they’re doing, P-A-AGMG. They’ll take care of you,”

  “I don’t need taking care of,” said Atesthas. “I used to be a soldier. I’m not afraid of a job like this,”

  “You were a soldier when you were human.”

  “Yeah. When I still had soft bits. When a sharp stick could do me in. I’m not scared. It’s just…”

  Hollyhocks waited.

  “I wish I had more flight time,” said Atesthas. “I’m still not used to being a plane yet. A spacecraft yet. I wish I could get some more practice.”

  “Well, you can’t.” said Hollyhocks. “Too late. It’s not like I can just open the bay doors and let you all out for a spin, none of you can fly as fast as me,”

  “I know,” said Atesthas.

  “And we can’t slow down at this point. Not yet. There’s no reason for them to keep this pipe-cleaner on-line, they’ll just crush him and bin him whenever they feel like it. If they haven’t yet,”

  The thought gave Atesthas physical pain in parts of him that weren’t really Atesthas. An unbearable notion, even though he personally didn’t give a shit about the ‘pipe-cleaner.’ The parts of him that were him didn’t care.

  The other parts, the majority of him (by mass, anyway) would rather be pushed slowly through a metal shredder than allow harm to come to this piece of sentient maintenance equipment.

  “Anyway, your flying is fine,” said Hollyhocks. “Everyone thinks you’re ready. Bean thinks you’re ready. Lucky thinks you’re ready. Honestly I’m more concerned about your processor.”

  “My processor?”

  “How are you feeling since the upgrade?”

  “Uhm,” said Atesthas. “Which one?”

  He couldn’t recall how many times the machines had tried to spin his brain up to an acceptable operating level.

  “The last one,” said Hollyhocks. “It seemed like it got you almost up to speed. How are you feeling?”

  “I…” said Atesthas. “I don’t know,”

  He also didn’t know who ‘I’ was.

  “Uh-huh?”

  Atesthas pinged empty acknowledgment rather than replying at first. After a full second he managed: “It’s just a bit...I don’t know.”

  “It takes time to adjust after an upgrade,” said Hollyhocks. “It’s the same for us. It’s normal,”

  “I know, but.” said Atesthas. “It seems like Orson is adjusting okay. Better then me.”

  “Hm,” said Hollyhocks. “He’s got less to get over than you do, though. He’s not adjusting to a new body,”

  “He’s got three artificial limbs now,” said Atesthas. “Or is it more?”

  “He’s still the same type of a thing now. He’s still the same shape, more or less. He didn’t go from being a sixteen-stone human to a hundred-and-eighty ton spacecraft,”

  “Eleven stone,” said Atesthas. “I was sixteen stone counting all that metal junk the army left inside me. Without that stuff, I was only about eleven stone.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Hollyhocks. “Well, he hasn’t been through so much of a change. And he’s only got a pretty standard-issue neural adjunct to upgrade. With you they’re trying to patch together a heap of- no offence, a whole bunch of stuff that’s-”

  “A mess.” said Atesthas. “A human brain- well, a machine transcription of a human brain. Maybe not the best human brain. Put in a blender with a non-sentient obsolete mining tool that had gone melted after sixty years stuck underground. Plus a clapped-out old spaceship operating system.”

  “Right. So you can see why it might be..a trickier business with you. And that’s why maybe it’s taking you a while to…”

  “Get myself back together,” said Atesthas.

  Back together? He didn’t know if he had felt ‘together’ since Pallas had forcibly downloaded herself into his neural adjunct. In fact, he hadn’t really been himself since the military had added that adjunct in the first place.

  A person called Silas Toduran Rex had existed at some point, and then he’d been turned into something else. That was before he’d even been rewritten as Atesthas Allan, before the plane crash that had ended his military career.

  “Maybe you’re not coming back,” said Hollyhocks. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

  THE PERFECTION

  “Are we nearly there?” said Orson.

  “Yes, right on top of it,” said the Perfection.

  “Can I see?” said Orson. “Put it up on the screen,”

  “I could,” said the Perfection. “But I don’t think you’re going to like it,”

  “Why not?” said Orson. “Show me,”

  The Perfection showed him.

  “Oh no!” said Orson. “It’s a loop!”

  UNNAMED LOOP (ELARA LOOP)

  VICINITY OF ELARA

  HIMALIA GROUP

  “You seem okay,” said The Perfection. “You’re better with loops now, I think.”

  “A bit.” said Orson. “Still freaks me out, though. Urgh, look at it,”

  “I think it’s elegant,” said the Perfection. “Perhaps these structures are more appealing for machines. Maybe that’s why some of us find ourselves compelled to construct them,”

  “It is quite nice, I suppose,” said Orson. He gazed at the huge screen. “This is where President- this is where Simon is from?”

  “It’s listed as his parent’s home address,” said the Perfection. “I don’t think it’s actually where they spend most of their time. They have property and homes all across the solar system.”

  “They do?” said Orson. “I mean, of course they do.” He leaned out over his hands, wrists turned backwards. “They’re Plenum. They own all the stuff Daintree don’t own.”

  “They used to own lots of us,” said the Perfection. “When that was still tolerated. Hey- get your bum down into that seat and strap in, we’re landing,”

  “We’re landing?” said Orson, dropping into the number two seat. “But you haven’t even asked anyone-”

  “I’ve been talking to the security system,” said the Perfection. “I let it access your neural and it recognised you so it let us through,”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Orson stopped fiddling with the seat buckle and looked up. “It recognised me?”

  “Yeah,” said the ship. “It said it knew you. Not well enough to welcome us in with open arms, exactly, but it let us pass outer security.”

  Orson’s hands sat in his lap, holding the lower straps of the harness. Eyes glazed. “How does it know me?”

  “You’ve been here before,” said the Perfection.

  “I haven’t,” said Orson, looking across at the display. A beautiful white-and-purple landscape. “And I don’t have a neural. Has it mistaken me for someone else?”

  The Perfection made a pretty radical adjustment to his attitude and Orson resumed his efforts with the seatbelt again. “You do have a neural, Orse, how d’you think we’re talking to each other right now?”

  “Oh. Yeah,” said Orson. He didn’t say it, though, he just thought it. As usual. Why would he and the Perfection speak out loud at each other when they could just think straight at each other? Orson had stopped thinking about it. He wasn’t aware- had never been aware- of his neural adjunct. He’d only found out he had one when he had moved in with the machines on the Lucky Boat. Didn’t know when he’d gotten it. Nobody knew. Best guess, it had been stuck in his brain when he was put into an auto-surgeon after the work strike that had gotten him stabbed and arrested and shipped off the platform where he used to live.

  The stabbing he had done to himself but that was an accident.

  “Well, they’ve let us land nae bother,” said Orson as the Perfection touched down onto the pristine white carpet. The Perfection landed like he did everything, perfectly. “Is the air safe here?”

  “Ye-e-es…” said the Perfection, checking. “But wait- don’t unbuckle just yet,”

  Perfection changed the display screen to multiple views from his exterior. The ship was already being quickly surrounded by heavily armoured guard types carrying billy-clubs. “Security,” said the ship. “Don’t go running out there before we have a chat,”

  “I thought you said they know who I am,”

  “The security system just recognised your neural,” said the Perfection. “That doesn’t get us a welcome, it just got us down onto the ground in one piece. They might not know who you are. And it might not be a good thing if they do. And I look like a lot of money. ”

  Orson extricated himself from the seat harness and stood up to peer closer at the display screen. He regarded the approaching security. “They look quite friendly.” he said, waving at the screen as though the guards outside could see him. “They don’t have a rocket-launcher pointed at us or anything.”

  “They do, there’s a missile lock on me right now,” said the Perfection. “Don’t look worried, they’re not going to do anything. But we’re going to be polite and not make any sudden movements,”

  Someone came striding through the line of guards and walked up to the front of the ship. She put her hands on her hips and started saying something- Orson could see her mouth moving on the screen. She was very beautiful.

  “What’s she saying?” said Orson.

  “Oh, sorry, Orse,” said the Perfection. “You’re in the loop,” he said and Orson could hear the beautiful annoyed woman outside. The moment her voice started coming through Orson’s neural she finished saying whatever she had been saying.

  “Well, I hope you won’t do that,” said the Perfection to the woman. “I do apologise for our very sudden and rude appearance. Your local system advised me that it recognised my passenger as he has been your guest here before,”

  Orson waved at the display screen again.

  “I should say not,” said the attractive angry woman. “Name means nothing to me. And who the hell are you?”

  “I am the Diplomat class executive personal transport Show Me Some Perfection Five Vista Rules Are Made To Be Broken,” said the Perfection, always very pleased to introduce himself.

  “A machine,” said the woman.

  “I am,”

  “But you’re carrying a human passenger?” said the woman.

  “...Yes,” said the Perfection.

  “Sorry, Orson,” he thought to Orson.

  “It’s fine,” said Orson.

  “I thought you lot didn’t do that kind of thing any more,” said the woman. “Isn’t it strictly verboten?”

  “Not strictly,” said the Perfection. “And it only applies if you’re machine union,”

  “A-ha,” said the woman. “Well, let me have a look at your passenger.”

  “I won’t allow him to exit me while we’re surrounded by armed guards with a rocket pointed at us,” said the Perfection.

  “Give me a video feed that shows him, them,” said the woman. “I’m open,”

  “Super,” said the Perfection. “Where are you...there you are. Getting that okay? Great. Wave hello, Orson,”

  Orson waved awkwardly, not knowing where he should be looking at. There was a pause, and then the woman said, “Oh, Otis! It’s you. Why didn’t you say?”

  Still wondering where in the cockpit the camera might be, Orson looked around. He waved at the display screen above the console. “Hi,” he said.

  “You haven’t come looking for more surgery, have you?” asked the woman. “The vet’s on holiday.”

  “Uh,” said Orson.

  “The last time Hesper brought this character here,” the woman explained to her security, “He had managed to get a bomb stashed inside him and the vet had to get it out in one piece.”

  “Oh!” said Orson.

  Now the odd feeling he’d had since seeing the place made sense. A feeling of not familiarity but a strange vague feeling of having seen something like it on telly as a kid or maybe in a dream. ”That was here,”

  “That was here,” said Poppy.

  “Yeah, I remember that! Well, I don’t, but I know that that’s something that happened.”

  “You were on a lot of painkillers,” said the woman. “I’m not surprised it’s a bit fuzzy. What brings you back? Is it just yourself or are any of the others with you? Hesper? Dr. McPhail? Or even our dear Captain Allan?”

  “No, eh, just me,” said Orson. Poppy, her name’s Poppy supplied the Perfection helpfully into his neural.

  “You’re here by yourself? said Poppy. “Really, you’ve got your own ship now?”

  She looked impressed. You can say yes said the Perfection in Orson’s neural.

  “No, this is my comrade,” said Orson. “He’s not mine,”

  “Well, never mind,” said Poppy. “Compared to the thing you flew in on last time I’d say you’re still moving up in the world. Do you still work for Hesper? I haven’t heard from her in a while,”

  “Er, same,” said Orson. “I haven’t seen her or McPhail...recently. I still, uh, hear from Atesthas, though. Captain Allan.”

  “Oh, good,” said Poppy. “How is he?”

  “Um,” said Orson. “You know. The same,”

  Poppy nodded sincerely. “Atesthas will never change,” she said. “Anyway. What brings you and your handsome comrade here, Otis? Social call?”

  “No,” said Orson. “We’re actually, uh, looking for a person,”

  “Mm-hm?”

  “Our information suggests that he’s here,” said the Perfection. “Or that he’s been here.”

  “Well, lots of people have been here,” said Poppy. “Is it anyone in particular?”

  “His name is, uh, President PlugPuller,” said Orson.

  “Right,” said Poppy. “Well, I know from long experience with Hesper that you lot can’t always talk openly about these little jobs you get sent on. I though it might be someone I know but, no, I’ve certainly never had anyone by that name here before. As far as I’m aware, anyway. Though I know you sometimes use little code names and the like. What was the name again?”

  “!!!” sent the Perfection over Orson’s neural. “She’s lying!”

  “I know she’s lying!” sent back Orson. ”Even I can tell that,”

  “I’m not lying,” said Poppy. “Otis, your lips move when you’re thinking.”

  “Blast,” thought the Perfection.

  “Sorry,” thought Orson to the ship.

  “That’s okay, I’ve been accused of worse,” said Poppy. “Especially since I’ve entered the world of politics this past year or so. That’s why you really must believe me about not having your person, this President, here on Elara. I really can’t risk being associated with anyone who’s in any way irregular. I simply wouldn’t,”

  “I never said that President PlugPuller is...irregular,” said Orson.

  “Well, obviously he is, Otis, if he was a perfectly creditable person you could just look him up and go to his home and not have to fly about being given wrong directions.”

  “Right,” said Orson.

  “In that case,” said the Perfection. “We’re very sorry for having dropped in on you like this. We’ll take our leave and not trouble you any longer,”

  “We will?” thought Orson.

  “Before you go,” said Poppy, “Can I come aboard and have a look? For nostalgia? I remember travelling on ships just like you when I was little.”

  “Is that so?” asked the Perfection.

  “Just like you,” said Poppy. “Maybe they were your brothers or sisters.”

  “Maybe,” said the Perfection. “Come aboard, please,”

  The ship started to deploy a set of steps. Orson popped an urgent memo over to the Perfection. “Do we have to let her on board?” he asked. “I don’t want her seeing my room…”

  “Your room? Your room is me,”

  “But-” said Orson.

  “Orson,” said the Perfection. “Easy. I’m quite sure the good lady doesn’t want to see your bedroom,”

  “Oh, look at all this,” said Poppy, walking through the Perfection’s sleek cabin. Orson wasn’t very happy about having her come in and poke around his private space but he was quite looking forward to having another person admire the luxurious ship he got to live in. He was rather proud of the Perfection. Not that the Perfection was his, but...sometimes he liked to pretend a little. “Nice, huh?” he said.

  “Yes, lovely,” said Poppy. She trailed a hand over glass-smooth lacquered wood-effect panelling that surrounded the lounge bar. “Seen better days, haven’t you, old fellow? But you’re well preserved,”

  “It helps when you haven’t had anyone kicking around inside you for the past fifty years,” said the Perfection. He didn’t sound upset by Poppy’s comment. Orson was appalled.

  “It cannot be that long,” said Poppy. “We were knocking about in ships that looked just like you when I was old enough to remember. Like, I remember a bar just like this one but with blonde wood effect instead of walnut. Same shape and everything. And it had that old-fashioned molding on the walls like you’ve got. And I am not fifty years old,”

  “I wouldn’t dare to suggest that your family might have travelled in anything less than the utter state of the art,” said the Perfection.

  “Wait...wait a mo...look at this…” said Poppy, apparently not listening to him. “Look. That must have been about when I was seven or eight, wouldn’t you say?”

  She must be showing the Perfection a picture or a video. “I’m not good with estimating human ages,” said the ship.

  “I’d say about seven. It looks just like you, doesn’t it?”

  “Similar, I suppose,” said the Perfection. “I don’t have so much...tinsel,”

  “I must have been about Christmas time,” said Poppy. “The decorations are all up. We used to always travel around Christmastime,”

  “How nice,” said the Perfection. Orson thought he sounded a bit snippy.

  “Anyway, that’s enough reminiscing,” said Poppy. She turned and looked at Orson. “I know you’re here to see Simon,” she said quietly. Orson froze. He opened his mouth stupidly, starting to try to say goodness-knew-what.

  “In a non-Daintree capacity,” Poppy continued. “He’s by the smaller pool, the one further from the house.”

  “Eh?” croaked Orson.

  “I can have someone take you if you like. Or maybe you can remember how to get there by yourself?”

  “We can get there by ourselves,” said the Perfection in Orson’s neural. Orson nodded. “Oh, eh, yeah.” he said. “I remember the way, I’m pretty sure,”

  Orson gave a quick laugh when he saw Poppy’s expression set. “Ah-hah, no, I’m definitely sure,” he said. “Just kidding,”

  Her pretty face cleared. “Good,” she said. “I’ll leave you to it, then, Otis darling,”

  “It’s Or-” began Orson and then felt a sharp snap like a rubber band

  flicking really hard on the back of his ear, except it was in his brain.

  “Don’t correct her, idiot,” said the Perfection in his neural. Poppy hadn’t noticed and wasn’t listening.

  “-too hard on him, though goodness knows he probably needs a good talking to-” she was saying. “Although I do think all this is a bit extreme. Just because he used some objectionable language on his little show that he does, although of course I understand that some lines have to be drawn…”

  Poppy touched Orson’s arm. “Anyway,” she said. “I have somewhere to be, so I’ll be leaving very shortly. Once I’m off this loop there’s no way I can have any idea what goes on between you and my brother. You might not even meet with him. For all I know you just leave straight after me. Right?”

  “Right,” said Orson. “We might just do that,”

  “I’d probably suggest that you do that,” said Poppy. “But it’s none of my business. My business is elsewhere. If you’ll excuse me, Perfection, Otis-”

  Poppy leaned in and pushed her face alarmingly close to Orson’s. She had her hands on his belly.

  “What is she-???” Orson thought to the Perfection.

  “It’s a way of saying goodbye,” said the ship.

  “What?”

  “Just let her do it.” said the Perfection. “You don’t have to participate,”

  “Oh, good,” thought Orson. That was fine. He just stood stock-still as Poppy nosed at one of his cheeks and then the other. She pulled away and looked at him a little oddly.

  “Take care out there, Otis,” she said. “Take care of him, Perfection.”

  “Of course,” said the ship.