“Will it work?” I asked her, this Lexi of brain-daze editing notoriety, currently building a robot, currently perhaps also my lover.
“I think so. Came in from Montana just yesterday. Stayed up all night putting together the thing after unpacking it. Box labelled ‘Live Cargo,’ funnily enough. I don’t know why.” She turned away from me back to the cityscape she so loved from this vantage point, her mid to upscale apartment in Kabusie. “End of the tracks, last of the train,” she’d said about this stop in her life. She expected to die here, I took it. Exploration of the network of ditches would be her magnum opus, a cumulative marriage of tech and art. Compared to that, I was just along for the ride. Sitting across from her, listening to the rails while I could. Full speed ahead.
I turned to the pseudo-flathead mechanoid on her work table. Not Arasaka quality, but she said there’d be compensations for this. Legal, obviously. But Lexi had designed some special AI components, borderline rogue she’d described them. “Approaching the Black Wall,” she said about them. “But *careful* not to cross.”
“Of course.”
—–
In another BD I found myself staring at the same scene, Lexi and her Ralph as she eventually called the robot. It was a much less smooth ride this time. Shaky, but not from nerves. Lower quality overall. A metal hit from the 60s by Everfat blared from the nearby stereo system, perhaps a remake of a Fats Domino and/or Everly Brothers song from a century before. Maybe an anniversary thing. Anyway…
“Who are you?” Still at the window, still staring out but only staring at blinds this time.
“Lincoln,” I said.
“Get out, get OUT,” she said, not wanting to hear that type of name in her apartment. Not since Madison.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 