Cerri and I wandered into the new makeshift galley in a combined fit of giggles. Getting dressed had been the most awkward experience of both our lives, with the both of us trying really really hard not to stare.
We’d been awkward about it all the way up until we were about to enter the room, and then we’d made eye contact and melted down into laughter. My heart felt a strange sort of calm-panic as we tried in vain to stifle our amusement while everyone else stared at us in confusion.
“What’s got you two all giggly?” Gloria asked from the crate she was using as a seat.
Cerri shook her head, sending me a secretive look. “Nothing. Don’t worry.”
“We’ve been waiting,” Roger said, somehow not sounding either accusatory or like a seer. “Is the food machine safe to turn on?”
No idea, I shrugged, wandering across the echoey galley. God, we needed to partition this thing a little, everything was so big.
“Uh, why are you on your way towards the on button then?” Warren asked hesitantly.
To find out, I typed, giving him a cocky wink. Okay, it probably wasn’t actually a cocky wink. I’m like, the essence of awkwardness, but I felt cool in my head and that’s what matters.
I was relying on the very intelligent little power supply in the back of the food machine to understand the power being plugged into it from the alien ship’s power infrastructure. Due to how the exodus from Earth had been just a tad haphazard, many planets used all sorts of standard voltages and shit. This meant that the burden of making everything work together had fallen on the individual manufacturers, so yeah… theoretically the power supply in the food machine should be able to handle the task. Theoretically.
I flipped the on switch.
At first there was an alarming humming sound and temperature readings from the machine went wild. My worries weren't all that high though, since the fact that I was getting any sort of readout in my ocula sort of indicated that it hadn't fried itself.
Soon the noise and temperature subsided and an error report got dumped into my HUD. A quick skim told me that it had detected an unknown power standard and adjusted itself to compensate. The log came with a warning not to consume the first thing that came out of the machine. Interesting…
I selected plain rice for the test meal and waited.
"Is it working?" Roger asked from his perch atop a big chair. All the tables and chairs in the galley were alien-sized and unusable for their intended purpose.
"Allegedly," I muttered, more to myself than him.
A little ping sound came from it, and our came a bowl of… oh god. The smell hit me first, and in a rush I turned to shield my poor nose from the abomination that had been presented.
"Jesus christ," Roger swore, gagging and retching.
Staggering forward, I took the warm bowl of… stuff, and I raced for the nearest alien cabinet, shoving it inside and closing the door.
"What just happened?" Cerri asked, looking faintly green.
"Nothing major, the machine um… just hacking up a hairball," I explained, taking long, deep breaths of mercifully clean air. "It should work now."
“I think I’ll do a test meal, if you don’t mind,” Roger said, without an ounce of trust in his voice.
It worked out in the end, although Roger's caution turned out to be very prudent. The second meal it churned out was recognisable, but it had a very odd smell and was subsequently thrown into the cupboard to be dealt with later.
Once breakfast was done with, we had a crew meeting. One that I'd been dreading. The sheer scale of the task before us… it made my thoughts escape out a hidden hatch in the back of my head and rush off to hide in the ducts.
The meeting, of course, was about compiling a list of shit we needed to do in order to make the ship usable. This included everything from cutting the legs short on all the chairs through to altering the atmospheric regulators to get a proper Earth-normal air mixture. We had our work cut out for us.
Then, of course, the three of us that were digital had another smaller conference. One that took place out on the Exodus network. It was just a sort of mind-voice thing, but it was still very odd.
"So, Turshie…" Cerri said, her voice resonating inside my skull as I worked on the new systems. "I assume you got the memo?"
Turshie's voice was a lot more subdued when she was speaking through this funny link. "I did. I'm not sure I understand though… even trying to get my head around what happened…"
"Yes, it's quite a lot to take in," Cerri agreed. "It looks like we're not allowed to tell the others. For now, anyway. You okay with that?"
Turshie let out a laugh. "Yes. I just do as I'm told… every time I try to do smart SAI stuff… it goes wrong. It's best if I let other people do the thinking."
I swear I picked up a note of depressed resignation in her words. It was completely at odds with her buxom ship AI persona.
Both Cerri and I were silent for a few moments as we processed her words. I wasn’t sure what to make of her when she was out of character.
“You okay, Turshie?” I asked softly.
“Ah, I’ll be okay,” she said. “I had another assignment that was a lot of fun too. Corporate espionage stuff. Not that I was any help there either… God I’m depressing.”
“Um…” Cerri said slowly, clearly taken aback.
“I mean, I think you’re pretty helpful,” I mumbled. This whole mind-voice-chat-thingy was so strange. I didn’t like it.
Turshie made a little noise. “I guess. I used to have a whole UI thingy to help me with my job, but it’s all corrupted now. I guess because of the stuff that happened with the servers or whatever. So… ah… yeah. I’m going to struggle to fill my role and stuff. Sorry guys.”
“Fill your role?” Cerri asked, but she followed up with a sound of understanding. “Turshie, nah. No. That’s not how things are going to roll now. Tell us your name, first off.”
“Why?” she asked, sounding genuinely confused as to why we’d want to know her name. “My name is Turshie.”
Cerri was working across the room from me within the engine room as we checked out the core systems. She turned to me now and waved, pointing to the main console and indicating that I should go there. With a shrug, I followed along.
“Can you pop up onto the console for us?” she asked, speaking to Turshie.
An image of the anime girl popped up on screen, although she didn’t have the blissful smile like she had before.
“We want to know your name because you’re not really able to do your job anymore,” Cerri said, and when Turshie opened her mouth to speak, she held up a hand to stall her. “It’s literally impossible. Nothing to do with you. You’re essentially just a player now, and your name obviously isn’t Turshie. If you’re going to be part of the party then… you know, we’d like to know you, not the role you played.”
The SAI on the screen opened her mouth again, then closed it, then blushed and looked away from the screen. “U-uh… I’m not really… you know.”
Cerri and I shared a look.
“I like playing my roles,” she said, looking down at her feet. “I get to play-act as all these different characters and stuff. It’s fun! I might not be good at like, thinking and stuff, but I know how to act! So… yeah.”
“Okay, you can be Turshie then,” Cerri said with a defeated sigh. “So long as you’re happy, I guess. Just figured… you know, maybe you’d like us to know the real you. The you that sounded all depressed just now.”
“Maybe later,” Turshie said, smiling happily. “We can hang out on Exodus One later, if you want. Inside the simulation, that is. Because like, it’s just a spaceship with no atmosphere and none of us have real bodies and stuff.”
“The city, yes,” Cerri nodded, and now it was her turn to look embarrassed. “Ah… I haven’t actually been there yet.”
“What?!” the ship AI exclaimed, eyes wide. “How have you… oh my god. I totally need to take you both around and show you everything. Please let me do that!”
“I have an apartment,” Cerri muttered, looking all cute and bashful beside me. “Just haven’t been there yet.”`
“I’d like to see your apartment,” I told her quietly.
Her gaze flicked up to meet mine. “I um… I figured… well, I hadn’t actually asked yet but… wait, have I asked yet?”
“Asked if she wants to live with you?” Turshie asked, tilting her head. “I know that you’ve practiced asking her in the mirror but—“
“Turshie!” Cerri squeaked with eyes wide. “You’re not meant to say that! Why were you even watching me do that?”
“Oh…” the ship’s AI murmured, then louder, “Oh crud. Sorry! I was just confused! You were saying the same thing over and over… I was curious.”
Without a second thought, I took Cerri’s hand and tugged gently on it. When she met my eyes, I smiled up at her. “Of course. That would be really fun. I’ve never lived with someone who I actually chose to live with before. Even if it’s just in virtual reality now.”
"You will?" She asked, a grin blooming across her lips. "You will!"
With a joyous laugh, she hugged me. "Thank you! I've been so nervous to go and see the digital city, but if you were there… it wouldn't be so intimidating."
Anything for you, Cerri. Anything.
Cerri and I wandered into the new makeshift galley in a combined fit of giggles. Getting dressed had been the most awkward experience of both our lives, with the both of us trying really really hard not to stare.
We’d been awkward about it all the way up until we were about to enter the room, and then we’d made eye contact and melted down into laughter. My heart felt a strange sort of calm-panic as we tried in vain to stifle our amusement while everyone else stared at us in confusion.
“What’s got you two all giggly?” Gloria asked from the crate she was using as a seat.
Cerri shook her head, sending me a secretive look. “Nothing. Don’t worry.”
“We’ve been waiting,” Roger said, somehow not sounding either accusatory or like a seer. “Is the food machine safe to turn on?”
No idea, I shrugged, wandering across the echoey galley. God, we needed to partition this thing a little, everything was so big.
“Uh, why are you on your way towards the on button then?” Warren asked hesitantly.
To find out, I typed, giving him a cocky wink. Okay, it probably wasn’t actually a cocky wink. I’m like, the essence of awkwardness, but I felt cool in my head and that’s what matters.
I was relying on the very intelligent little power supply in the back of the food machine to understand the power being plugged into it from the alien ship’s power infrastructure. Due to how the exodus from Earth had been just a tad haphazard, many planets used all sorts of standard voltages and shit. This meant that the burden of making everything work together had fallen on the individual manufacturers, so yeah… theoretically the power supply in the food machine should be able to handle the task. Theoretically.
I flipped the on switch.
At first there was an alarming humming sound and temperature readings from the machine went wild. My worries weren't all that high though, since the fact that I was getting any sort of readout in my ocula sort of indicated that it hadn't fried itself.
Soon the noise and temperature subsided and an error report got dumped into my HUD. A quick skim told me that it had detected an unknown power standard and adjusted itself to compensate. The log came with a warning not to consume the first thing that came out of the machine. Interesting…
I selected plain rice for the test meal and waited.
"Is it working?" Roger asked from his perch atop a big chair. All the tables and chairs in the galley were alien-sized and unusable for their intended purpose.
"Allegedly," I muttered, more to myself than him.
A little ping sound came from it, and our came a bowl of… oh god. The smell hit me first, and in a rush I turned to shield my poor nose from the abomination that had been presented.
"Jesus christ," Roger swore, gagging and retching.
Staggering forward, I took the warm bowl of… stuff, and I raced for the nearest alien cabinet, shoving it inside and closing the door.
"What just happened?" Cerri asked, looking faintly green.
"Nothing major, the machine um… just hacking up a hairball," I explained, taking long, deep breaths of mercifully clean air. "It should work now."
“I think I’ll do a test meal, if you don’t mind,” Roger said, without an ounce of trust in his voice.
It worked out in the end, although Roger's caution turned out to be very prudent. The second meal it churned out was recognisable, but it had a very odd smell and was subsequently thrown into the cupboard to be dealt with later.
Once breakfast was done with, we had a crew meeting. One that I'd been dreading. The sheer scale of the task before us… it made my thoughts escape out a hidden hatch in the back of my head and rush off to hide in the ducts.
The meeting, of course, was about compiling a list of shit we needed to do in order to make the ship usable. This included everything from cutting the legs short on all the chairs through to altering the atmospheric regulators to get a proper Earth-normal air mixture. We had our work cut out for us.
Then, of course, the three of us that were digital had another smaller conference. One that took place out on the Exodus network. It was just a sort of mind-voice thing, but it was still very odd.
"So, Turshie…" Cerri said, her voice resonating inside my skull as I worked on the new systems. "I assume you got the memo?"
Turshie's voice was a lot more subdued when she was speaking through this funny link. "I did. I'm not sure I understand though… even trying to get my head around what happened…"
"Yes, it's quite a lot to take in," Cerri agreed. "It looks like we're not allowed to tell the others. For now, anyway. You okay with that?"
Turshie let out a laugh. "Yes. I just do as I'm told… every time I try to do smart SAI stuff… it goes wrong. It's best if I let other people do the thinking."
I swear I picked up a note of depressed resignation in her words. It was completely at odds with her buxom ship AI persona.
Both Cerri and I were silent for a few moments as we processed her words. I wasn’t sure what to make of her when she was out of character.
“You okay, Turshie?” I asked softly.
“Ah, I’ll be okay,” she said. “I had another assignment that was a lot of fun too. Corporate espionage stuff. Not that I was any help there either… God I’m depressing.”
“Um…” Cerri said slowly, clearly taken aback.
“I mean, I think you’re pretty helpful,” I mumbled. This whole mind-voice-chat-thingy was so strange. I didn’t like it.
Turshie made a little noise. “I guess. I used to have a whole UI thingy to help me with my job, but it’s all corrupted now. I guess because of the stuff that happened with the servers or whatever. So… ah… yeah. I’m going to struggle to fill my role and stuff. Sorry guys.”
“Fill your role?” Cerri asked, but she followed up with a sound of understanding. “Turshie, nah. No. That’s not how things are going to roll now. Tell us your name, first off.”
“Why?” she asked, sounding genuinely confused as to why we’d want to know her name. “My name is Turshie.”
Cerri was working across the room from me within the engine room as we checked out the core systems. She turned to me now and waved, pointing to the main console and indicating that I should go there. With a shrug, I followed along.
“Can you pop up onto the console for us?” she asked, speaking to Turshie.
An image of the anime girl popped up on screen, although she didn’t have the blissful smile like she had before.
“We want to know your name because you’re not really able to do your job anymore,” Cerri said, and when Turshie opened her mouth to speak, she held up a hand to stall her. “It’s literally impossible. Nothing to do with you. You’re essentially just a player now, and your name obviously isn’t Turshie. If you’re going to be part of the party then… you know, we’d like to know you, not the role you played.”
The SAI on the screen opened her mouth again, then closed it, then blushed and looked away from the screen. “U-uh… I’m not really… you know.”
Cerri and I shared a look.
“I like playing my roles,” she said, looking down at her feet. “I get to play-act as all these different characters and stuff. It’s fun! I might not be good at like, thinking and stuff, but I know how to act! So… yeah.”
“Okay, you can be Turshie then,” Cerri said with a defeated sigh. “So long as you’re happy, I guess. Just figured… you know, maybe you’d like us to know the real you. The you that sounded all depressed just now.”
“Maybe later,” Turshie said, smiling happily. “We can hang out on Exodus One later, if you want. Inside the simulation, that is. Because like, it’s just a spaceship with no atmosphere and none of us have real bodies and stuff.”
“The city, yes,” Cerri nodded, and now it was her turn to look embarrassed. “Ah… I haven’t actually been there yet.”
“What?!” the ship AI exclaimed, eyes wide. “How have you… oh my god. I totally need to take you both around and show you everything. Please let me do that!”
“I have an apartment,” Cerri muttered, looking all cute and bashful beside me. “Just haven’t been there yet.”`
“I’d like to see your apartment,” I told her quietly.
Her gaze flicked up to meet mine. “I um… I figured… well, I hadn’t actually asked yet but… wait, have I asked yet?”
“Asked if she wants to live with you?” Turshie asked, tilting her head. “I know that you’ve practiced asking her in the mirror but—“
“Turshie!” Cerri squeaked with eyes wide. “You’re not meant to say that! Why were you even watching me do that?”
“Oh…” the ship’s AI murmured, then louder, “Oh crud. Sorry! I was just confused! You were saying the same thing over and over… I was curious.”
Without a second thought, I took Cerri’s hand and tugged gently on it. When she met my eyes, I smiled up at her. “Of course. That would be really fun. I’ve never lived with someone who I actually chose to live with before. Even if it’s just in virtual reality now.”
"You will?" She asked, a grin blooming across her lips. "You will!"
With a joyous laugh, she hugged me. "Thank you! I've been so nervous to go and see the digital city, but if you were there… it wouldn't be so intimidating."
Anything for you, Cerri. Anything.
