“But she didn’t get upset about Darb and Vara ignoring her, either,” I pointed out.
“Or she did and is hiding it,” Dalton replied.
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want a bio body.”
“Why would anyone settle for bots and being stuck permanently on a ship?”
“She doesn’t know anything else.”
He rubbed his jaw again. “I suppose…”
“I think the idea of having a body, and a human life, frightens her,” I added. “She only has to look at Lyth’s life to see what awaits her.”
Dalton lowered his hand. “The Humanists still have him on their hit list?”
“Number one, I’m sure,” I confirmed. “He’s the first and most famous of the digital sentients. It would be a major coup for them if they took him out. He’s not only a symbol of everything they detest, he actually works to make more of them.”
He grimaced. “Still, that doesn’t mean Lyssa would step right into the same problems. The way she shook Fiori’s hand…she’s using construction nanobots. The drain on the ship must be stupendous.”
“And expensive,” I agreed. “She resupplies at every stop, and charges like a brontosaurus to cover the costs.”
“That’s a racing treadmill she’s on,” Dalton said.
“It’s her choice,” I reminded him. “And she would argue that as she’s not self-aware, it’s not even a choice.”
Dalton considered that for a beat more, then gave a gruff laugh. “The ‘not-self-aware’ argument is a complete stopper. No one can try to talk her around while she insists she’s just a complex AI.”
“A fact that has stymied me for years,” I admitted. “I’ve thought about consulting Arnold Laxman, but if she is truly aware and in denial about it, we have to honor her sentience by letting her choose for herself.” I shrugged and drank. The coffee was as good as I remembered it being.
“Not choosing something you want because you’re afraid isn’t a real decision,” Dalton said. “I found it disorienting to wake and find that months had passed, I had died, and this body wasn’t really me.” He raised his hand and turned it over and back. “And I already know how to make my limbs work and how to get energy in and waste out. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like for Lyth to go through that, and have to learn how to walk, how to even swallow, into the bargain.”
I stared at him, my heart thudding unhappily. “It took him weeks,” I said slowly. “But I never really thought about it like that.”
“You were kept unconscious when they transferred you,” Dalton pointed out.
“Because they didn’t know if it would work.”
“It still saved you from the disorientation. Didn’t they tell you they’d kept you in a therapeutic coma while you recovered from injuries?”
I nodded.
“I got the raw truth, instead,” Dalton added.
I was startled. “You would rather have been lied to, the way I was?”
Dalton hesitated. Then he shook his head and relief touched me. “I got scared in retrospect,” he said. “But that went away after a while, and I unclenched enough to appreciate the second chance that had been handed to me. Lots of people don’t get that. But mostly, I got to like—to really like—what you did for me.”
His gaze met mine.
I couldn’t maintain it. I looked away. I could feel my cheeks heating. “I’m glad you like it,” I said flatly. “It makes every payment I hand over to the Institute worth it.” Which was the absolute and literal truth. I was dead broke and would be for years but remembering what I’d bought with that debt took all the sting out of it.
Dalton made a soft sound.
“I’m not saying that to grind in the guilt,” I added.
“I know you’re not. But maybe we should talk again about me paying off the bill, Danny. It’s not like I can’t afford it, anymore.”
I shook my head. “You didn’t ask for this. I didn’t consult you. I just did it. That was…is still a huge assumption. So the debt is one hundred percent mine.”
“Given that I was dead at the time, I can’t see how you might have consulted with me,” Dalton said softly.
“I could have asked Lyssa to build an interface with your digital files. Asked you that way. We could have found a way to do it, if I’d really wanted to. But I didn’t.” I shrugged.
“Because you figured you knew me well enough to know what my answer would be,” Dalton finished. This was not the first time we’d had this discussion, over the years.
“And I was right,” I pointed out. “But that doesn’t take away the presumptuousness of what I did to you.”
He sat back, examining me. “You just like being in a tight spot and having to fight for a living. You like not knowing what the day will bring.”
The door to the diner opened, letting in a flood of normal light from the passage beyond. Fiori stepped through and paused just inside the door, her eyes widening. I had probably looked like she did when I’d come through a few minutes ago.
“Fiori,” I said, gaining her attention. I waved her to the table.
She moved to the table, her head turning as she took in the counter and the street view. “The concierge panel said you were here. Is this…a canteen?”
“Of a sort,” I said.
“This is the diner I told you about,” Dalton added.
“This is a diner?” She looked around again as she settled on the front end of the bench opposite Dalton.
“It doesn’t look the way it used to,” I added. “We think it has changed to match the passing of time.”
“How…interesting,” Fiori replied, her head still turning. Then she saw the waitress. “Oh!”
“Coffee, love?” the waitress asked.
Fiori looked like she was trying not to laugh.
“It’s a genuine question,” Dalton told her. “Or would you rather have something to eat? I’m sure she can print up that blood pudding for you.”
Blood pudding? I looked at the
