Брендон Сандерсон - Cytonic

I’d never had any other options in life. It was fight or be destroyed. But now I’d seen that wasn’t the only way to live. It was the first time in my life I’d actually had a chance to escape the war. I had to consider it. How could I not?

Neither Hesho nor M-Bot spoke for a time; the three of us merely sat in silence. We were like an audience for one of the military parades back home. Except our entertainment was the distant, incredible burst of light.

“Is that what a sun is like?” I finally asked.

“No,” Hesho said. “I close my eyes, and the light batters my eyelids—but there is no warmth to accompany it. It is like the ghost of a sun. The corpse of one, left behind after all the heat has fled.”

“It is a little like a sun,” M-Bot said. So far Hesho had taken his presence as normal, though I’d cautioned the kitsen not to speak of him to others. “Only very wrong at the same time. It is much smaller than one, for example.”

“That’s small ?” I asked. From how close we were, the lightburst took up a good chunk of the horizon.

“For a star, yes,” M-Bot said. “That sphere, gauging by my best readings, is a fraction of the size of Earth’s moon. It could perhaps be a neutron star if this were the somewhere—which would make Lord Hesho’s metaphor particularly acute. At any rate, it certainly shouldn’t be so cold for how much light it releases.”

I leaned forward and tried to imagine the feeling of sunlight. The vast majority of my ancestors had lived in a place where warmth came from the sky. I’d never felt so distant from them as I did at that moment, sitting before the strange light of the nowhere. Contemplating my cowardice.

I’d learned, in my time with Skyward Flight, that I wasn’t a coward in the traditional sense. I didn’t fear battle. I wouldn’t run from danger. But…here was a different opportunity. A way to run from the war, and even responsibility, in their entirety.

“The delvers told me,” I said softly, “that they’d leave me alone if I agreed not to continue on the Path of Elders. They even implied they’d back out of the deal with Winzik.”

“Curious,” M-Bot said. “Why would they make such an offer?”

“They’re frightened of me,” I said. “They proposed a truce. They hate my presence in here, but they’re willing to tolerate it in order to not escalate our interactions.”

“And if we continue?” M-Bot asked.

“They’ll consider that an act of aggression. They’ll do everything they can to stop us.”

“A dilemma,” M-Bot said.

“Not if I stay,” I whispered. “Chet wants me to join him exploring, and Peg wants me to train her people. Both made me offers earlier.” I leaned forward, my hands clasped, not looking toward his drone.

“How likely are the delvers to keep a deal?” he asked.

That question again.

“Hard to say,” I replied. “They’re frightened now, but who knows? We have no evidence that they’re trustworthy. If Winzik came to me with a similar deal, for example, I’d discard it in a heartbeat.”

“Curious,” M-Bot said. “Spensa…I’ll admit, I’ve been thinking of my own dilemma.”

I glanced at his drone. “What?”

“My old ship,” he explained, “had specific circuitry that let me process in the nowhere. That’s why I could think fast enough to…well, be me. But the drone…well, do you remember how I talked when you first found me in it?”

“Slowly,” I said. “Like you were struggling for each word.”

“I can only assume,” he explained, “that being in the belt lets me process quickly, regardless of the machinery I inhabit. But my old ship, the one that let me think so well in the somewhere, has been destroyed. I no longer blame you for that, by the way. I’m getting pretty mature, I’d say.”

I smiled.

“Anyway,” he said, “if we leave this place, what happens to me? Do I return to thinking like my processors are made of oatmeal?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It seems…for a little while at least…that would be inevitable.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he said. “For weeks now. And I’ve decided. I’m willing to go back. We have a war to win. I decided I’d try inhabiting the best computers we had; maybe one on the platforms. I think I’d make a good space station, don’t you?

“If not that, maybe we could steal the schematics that Winzik must have made while disassembling my old ship. Then we could build me a new proper brain. But anyway, I decided that if you went back, I’d go with you. I just…just thought I should tell you.”

Scud. He was braver than I was. I felt ashamed for not noticing the dilemma he faced—this worry must have been bothering him ever since we entered. Some friend I was.

Thinking of friends made me sick again at what I was contemplating. How would I ever face Jorgen if I made the decision to stay?

A part of me, however, knew I couldn’t focus on his needs, or M-Bot’s decision. I had to decide what I wanted. Not choose my future because of what any other person—even Jorgen—would want me to do. For once, I had to think of myself.

I glanced at Hesho, wondering if he’d chime in. For now, he continued sitting in his meditative posture, his eyes closed.

“M-Bot,” I said, “I’ve spent my entire life being indoctrinated into the war for Detritus. I don’t blame anyone—except maybe the Krell—for that. We did what we had to in order to survive. But…I’m tired. Of watching people die. Of giving up my future to a war. Of living my life with my stress at a constant ten. How much do I owe Detritus? How much is one person expected to pay?”

His drone hovered beside me, silent for long enough that I eventually glanced at it. For once I wished he were a person so that I could see the disgust in his face. I deserved that for the way I was talking.

Instead he was an AI. “I suppose,” he said, “that makes some sense.”

I had to be truthful with him. I had to voice it.

“There’s another reason that I want to stay,” I said. “I…love this. I can explore with Chet, and the Broadsiders practically worship me. It’s like living in a story. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, M-Bot. I can do that here. I can fly. I can explore, I can fight the Superiority. I can spar. Live…”

“That,” he said, “makes even more sense, knowing you.”

“Lord Hesho?” I asked. “I could use your wisdom.”

“Wisdom fled me, warrior-sister,” he said. “Wisdom is born of experience, you see, and I have none.”

“I sense wisdom even in that answer,” I said to him. “Am I a coward for preferring to stay? It’s not that I fear dying by continuing, it’s merely that…”

“You are tired of sacrificing what you want for the good of your people,” Hesho said.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“That is not cowardice, but selfishness,” he said.

I winced.

“However,” he continued, “duty should not be accepted without question. Duty can be a motive, but should not be an excuse. Does your fight uphold honor and virtue? Does it match your moral code?”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever thought about those things,” I said. “I mean, there was the enemy, and there was us. I pointed myself in their direction and let loose…”

That wasn’t strictly true.

“After living with the enemy,” I admitted, “I learned it wasn’t so simple. I didn’t discover that their cause was just, mind you. Only that most of them weren’t evil. They were merely people. Following, by accident, someone who was evil.”

“Excellent,” he said. “You have left behind the worldview of a child.” He cracked an eye. “How old are you, among your species?”