Aleksey Savchenko - Cyberside

“…I was going to say, ‘get some fresh air’, but it’s not like there’s any left.” Steven looks down at his tray of foodlike substances. “Anyways, I gotta get my progress report to Scott by end of day. So just send me your projections when you get back.”

The friends spend the rest of their meal in silence.

Their trip up the coast proves beautiful, but uneventful. The Taciturn drives in silence, eyes ever focused on the horizon. In each town along their coastal route, Matilda expects a security team or an escort, but the inhabitants they encounter just smile and wave. The Island Guardians, she thinks, must be extremely effective to instill such trusting calm amongst the Ohana.

A bump in the road jostles the car and brings Matilda back to the subject at hand – their meeting with Stephen. This man – a friend from the pre-Cyberside days, or so the Taciturn claims – holds the key to them getting into Babylon undetected. At least, that’s what Matilda has been able to put together. Taciturn has, if nothing else, certainly been living up to his name since their arrival.

James finally slows and turns up a tree-lined access road towards a large porch-wrapped house that rests comfortably on the mountainside. At the driveway gate, James enters a password into the call box, and the iron-barred gates creak open. Matilda glances at the Taciturn. His face is unreadable as he takes the car up the gravel driveway.

Matilda spots a young man sitting on the porch, waving. While they are still out of earshot, Matilda quickly asks, “Is there anything in particular about this friend of yours I should know about?”

Before the Taciturn can respond, the man on the porch raises both hands and exclaims, “JAMES!”

From his clothing, the man doesn’t look like the warrior-monk Matilda had envisioned. With his brown open-toed leather sandals, blindingly-white shorts, and loudly-patterned tropical shirt, his entire ensemble screams Tourist.

Killing the engine and stepping out of the car, James returns the greeting with a wide grin. Standing at the passenger-side door, Matilda feigns an alarmed step backward.

“Hold up, was that a smile? You can actually smile?”

Ignoring her jab, James ardently shakes Stephen’s hand, each man clasping the other’s shoulder. “Security pinged me when you arrived. It’s been way too long.” He turns to Matilda, extending his hand. “And a pleasure to meet you as well. I’m Stephen.”

Intrigued, Matilda decides to test James’ friend . She hopes to gauge his personality and get back at Taciturn for being so closed lipped. She squares her shoulders, lowers her voice, fixes him with her eyes, and tries to keep a straight face.

“Greetings, Stephen. Pleasure to meet you, I’m sure. I am Matilda. James’ employer.”

This, she notes with pleasure, has the desired effect. The mercenary straightens and immediately starts to interject.

“Wait, now hold on a—”

Stephen’s boisterous laugh tramples the rest of James’ objection.

“Ha! Glad to see James finally bringing someone with a sense of humor!” He offers Matilda a wry look. “His Taciturn pals are a pretty stuffy bunch.”

Chuckling, Stephen gestures to the house.

“I’m sure you guys must be tired. Let’s catch up on the patio.”

As Stephen turns toward the house to lead the way, Taciturn gives Matilda an annoyed look. She laughs.

“What? I just wanted to see if your friend is as grim as you are.”

The house’s backyard is a well-maintained, picturesque, tropical getaway in its own right. Overlooking the valley from its mild, grassy grade, Matilda can see the town and ocean vista spread out below them. As Stephen takes his place at a backyard table, a sliding glass door opens to reveal a young woman in a silk robe. She carries a tray of drinks and places it on the table. Smiling at James and Matilda, she settles comfortably in Stephen’s lap.

“Hey, James. Great to see you. And…?”

Stephen chimes in, “Samantha darling, this is Matilda. James’ boss.”

Stephen winks at Matilda, and she hears Taciturn groan next to her. Matilda doesn’t try to control her own laughter.

Grinning, Samantha extends her hand. “ Aloha, Matilda. I really hope you enjoy your stay here.”

With introductions out of the way, Stephen and James begin their rapid-fire game of social catch-up. Stephen regales them with several recent, unsuccessful attempts by outsiders to enter the territory, the approaching harvest festival, and his own plans to design new crops for the coming year. James, in turn, recalls his adventures as a Taciturn – the towns he’s visited, the monsters he’s slain. Swept up in the verve of their reunion, Samantha excitedly shares the news that the two of them want to have children. She and Stephen have talked about merging their information data and requesting the System to provide a wrapper in the form of a new information entity.

James congratulates them on their announcement, but Matilda notes the brief flexion of his right hand as he does it.

Matilda sips her drink and listens. She can’t help but be struck by just how disparate these two men are, in both manner and appearance. Their respective lives in the Cyberside could hardly be in greater contrast – one of them rejecting it, at least partially, by give it to code, and the other quietly endeavoring to maintain his humanity seemingly with every other step taken in this new life.

The brilliant sun draws down toward the horizon, gradually bathing the backyard in deepening tropical reds and golds. Despite the cheerfulness of the reunion, Matilda begins to feel vaguely uneasy. Everything here is just a little too perfect. The notion fills her not with any sense of immediate, practical alarm, but rather a quiet, creeping fog of wariness. Her entire life has consisted almost entirely of either hunting or being hunted. At least, that goes for what little of her ‘entire life’ she can actually remember.

Matilda considers the state of her existence as the chatty reminiscing continues around the table.

Suddenly eager for a way into the conversation and out of her own head, Matilda blurts, “So, how did you two meet?”

Stephen looks affectionately into his partner’s eyes. “I don’t know. There’s not much to tell, really. We met fairly early on after the Second Great Migration. She ran a storefront. As people started experimenting with broadening levels of communication with programs, it just felt like the natural thing to do. Best decision I ever made.”

At these words, Samantha rests her head contentedly on Stephen’ chest. After a brief silence, the conversation veers from the etiquette of casual catchup to the particulars of their arrival. Stephen leans back in his chair, his arms folded behind his head.

“So, James, as much as I would like to think you came to work on your tan…”

Pushing his plate away, James reaches for his pack of cigarettes. “How about you and I go for a walk, and let the ladies chat amongst themselves?”

Excusing himself from Samantha’s side, Stephen leads James through the side yard to the front of the house, leaving the women to their own devices.

In the new silence, swept only by the rush of the gentle, warm breeze, Matilda looks at Samantha again and manufactures a genial, less-than-completely-easy smile.

“So… uh… you want to be a mother, huh?” Matilda hears herself asking, wincing inwardly.

Samantha beams. “Yes, I think both Stephen and I are ready at this point.”

In the silence, Matilda clearly hears the tiny chink of melting ice cubes shifting in her glass. “Well, I guess, like, congratulations?”