Aleksey Savchenko - Cyberside

As they near the structure, Matilda can see that it’s some sort of kiosk next to a paved parking lot. The Taciturn continues explaining as they approach.

“People started calling them ‘replicants’ as a derogatory term. Conflict was inevitable.”

Matilda’s knowledge of engineering is limited, but she frowns at the statement just the same.

“As written programs, they shouldn’t be able to attack their creators. How could there really be a ‘conflict’? Wouldn’t that be kind of—?” She makes a hammering gesture with her fist.

She notices James’ own fist, clenching and unclenching – a funny thing he seems to be doing more and more often lately, possibly without realizing it.

“You’re right. It was one-sided. Surviving replicants left humanity to its downward spiral. They rewrote part of the System’s code and left with the few humans that were on their side – those smart enough to realize what was coming to the rest of the Cyberside. Together, the replicants and humans created a haven using the memories of those they had—” —he only hesitates a moment— “—interfaced with. The Ohana is a paradise off the grid from the major Locales, only accessible to those who have been granted access. They’re extremely protective of their home, but they’re still bound by the coding that prohibits them from harming humans. To get around the Asimov Laws the few humans that came with them actually built the defense system. It protects them from all unwanted outsiders.”

Matilda looks back at the four statues in the distance. Reflects on the charred divots and scoring in the grass.

“Well, it’s a good thing you had access.”

James nods his head.

“Yes. Thankfully, Stephen made sure I can come and go as I please. I just had to convince them about you.”

As they approach the kiosk, Matilda nibbles the inside of her cheek and wonders what the Taciturn had to say to ‘convince’ them. She doubts they have ever had any Scry visitors.

At the kiosk, Matilda watches as James pushes a few buttons on the display, cycling through car selections. She pounces on the mention of ‘Stephen’.

“Okay, so this Stephen character. How exactly can your buddy help us? Is he like a warrior-monk or something? Are we here to train with the Master, who lives here in exile?”

One of the benefits of spending this much uninterrupted time with the Taciturn is learning how best to push his buttons. And he has a lot of buttons.

Sure enough, James turns around to stare at her. Matilda smiles and shrugs.

“What? I was hiding in an abandoned comic book store waiting for more of Donovan’s goons to show up. Had to pass the time somehow.”

Her smile widens as James shakes his head. She continues.

“I just don’t understand why we can’t go to this Babylon place right away.”

Settling on a car choice, James pushes a button. In a nearby parking space, a convertible materializes out of the humid, breezy air. Matilda squints from the sun’s reflection on the immaculate white paint. The roof automatically retracts as James approaches the vehicle. “This is bigger than just a bunch of slavers. Donovan basically controls Babylon, and charging head first into his fortress is a one-way ticket.”

As she trails behind him, Matilda starts stabbing the air with her hands. “I don’t know, that’s always worked for me before.”

Before opening the driver door, James gives Matilda a rare, genuine smile.

“Use only that which works, and take it from any place you can find it.”

Matilda stops her imaginary attack and looks at James, “I don’t get it.”

Grabbing the handle, Taciturn says, “Never mind. Forgot who I was talking to.”

As he slides into the driver’s seat, Matilda jumps over the passenger side door.

“Look, we’re going to have to play this smart. We’ll need a disguise to walk around Babylon, and the replicants make the best. That’s why we’re going to see Stephen. He’s an old friend of mine, and he’ll help us.”

With the push of a button, the car rumbles to life. As they exit the parking lot, Matilda lets her hair down. James seems to know where he’s going, taking them along a winding coastal road. The cool ocean breeze is refreshing.

“So, this friend of yours – you met him in the Cyberside?”

Matilda notices James’ hand tighten on the steering wheel.

“No… it was long before all of this.”

They continue to ride in silence. The island’s beauty strikes her anew around every curve in the road. She imagines how pleasant life must be here. How different things would be if she had woken up here instead of Homestead.

Taciturn drives as stoically as ever. For a man about to visit an old friend, Matilda finds him rather grim. Turning her attention back to the ocean, Matilda can only guess what’s going on inside the mercenary’s head.

At lunch time, the Fall Water Lake cafeteria is like an ant colony. There are just too many people stuck in crunch, and frankly not enough time to waste eating. There was a time when everyone had his or her own schedules and eating practices until HR passive-aggressively reminded everyone that the one-hour lunch break was mandatory. Now, everyone rushes to waste their hour waiting in line. Just another example of HR’s sterling good intentions. James suspects productivity has likely taken a huge hit, rather than seeing the increase which was presumably the point.

All James wants to do is to eat his food and get back to work as quickly as he can. That is, until he notices Stephen, his friend and project manager. Stephen waves his hand and motions for James to sit next to him.

“What’s going on, buddy? What’d you grab from the line?”

James sits down to see Stephen’s tray loaded with a variety of food and drink, all of the major Coding House food groups represented. Grease. Salt. Sugar. Caffeine.

“Oh, a sandwich huh? Me, I’m starving. Overslept after staying late last night. Only had time for coffee and cigarettes.” Stephen laughs between bites, and with each laugh pieces of fried chicken fly out of his full mouth. “But I’m preaching to the choir, aren’t I? I’m pretty sure you’ve replaced your blood with Red Bull, by this point.”

Grinning, James starts the arduous task of forcing nutrients back into his body. Undeterred by his silence, Stephen continues, “So how’s Sarah?”

“Good,” James lies as he starts to eat.

He hasn’t been on good terms with his wife since he started the most recent crunch cycle. Every argument eventually leads back to the point that he spends no time with his family.

Taking up the staff of comradely lunch break chitchat, James asks, “How’s Helen?”

“Great,” Stephen lies in return. Both know better than to push the issue. Though Stephen’s tone is upbeat, James can see the same exhaustion creeping in behind his friend’s eyes. He looks around the buzzing, chaotic lunchroom. Fall Water Lake doesn’t need to be reminded to take its lunch breaks. It’s consistently eating away at its employees. Breakfast, lunch or dinner, it never misses a meal.

Steven shovels a handful of fries into his mouth and asks James to pass the salt. “I’m not gonna lie, James.” – and suddenly the upbeat, optimistic mask is gone. “This whole thing is really starting to piss me off.”

James stops, mid-bite. This side of Stephen rarely comes out.

“This company, man. They think free lunch makes up for everything they do to us. I’ll gladly pay for plate of fucking chicken if it means I can go home at night. I swear to God, I’m this close to grabbing my family, leaving this whole shitty city, and…”

James sits in awkward silence and listens to his friend vocalize a feeling that everyone at the company has running through their heads on a daily basis. Visibly agitated, feeding on his own frustration, Stephen continues.