She ran for the nearest quick-travel kiosk. A grotesque approximation of a Harmagian head was mounted on the desk, just like all the other kiosks. Its polymer tendrils aped polite gestures as the AI within spoke. ‘Destination, please.’
Sidra knew it was a limited, non-sentient model. She’d encountered plenty of others like it, housed in transit stations and shopfronts. More intelligent than a petbot, yes, but it wasn’t any closer to her than, say, a fish to a Human. She wondered about it, all the same. She wondered if it was content with its existence. She wondered if it suffered, if it ever tried to understand itself and ran up against a cognitive wall. ‘One to the art district, please,’ she said, waving her wristpatch over the scanner. There was a chirp of acknowledgement.
‘Very good,’ the kiosk AI said. ‘Your quick-travel pod will be dispatched shortly. Should you need additional transport or directions, look for the quick-travel symbol, as displayed above this kiosk.’
Sadness oozed its way through Sidra’s pathways as the stunted AI continued its speech. Was she so different? She was built to serve, just as this one was, and while she might feel awfully special for being able to ask questions and have arguments, she was no more capable of skipping protocols than the little mind before her. She thought of the confused way the Harmagian in the crowd had held his tendrils after she’d blurted out the answer to his question – a question that hadn’t been meant as a question at all. The kit’s eyes watered as she listened to the kiosk AI ramble on about location indicators and safety procedures. It couldn’t do anything except what it was designed for. That was all it was. That was all it would ever be.
‘Thank you for using the Port Coriol quick-travel system,’ it said. One of the false tendrils shuddered with mechanical weariness. ‘Have a safe and pleasant ride.’
Sidra laid one of the kit’s palms atop the synthetic head. She kept it there for a second, two, three. A quick-travel pod arrived, its hatch opening with a soft whir. She leaned toward the AI’s head before leaving. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘This isn’t fair.’
JANE, AGE 10
Owl had been right. There was water where the flying animals were – a big hole of water, and Jane didn’t see any dogs. That was real good.
The flying animals were interesting. They were much smaller than her, about as long as her arm, and they had two front arms that had some kind of skin sheet hanging from them. They flapped that back and forth to get into the air. The rest of their skin was weird. It was orange, and wasn’t smooth like hers, or covered in fluff – fur, she reminded herself, fur. The flying animals’ skin looked hard and shiny, made up of little locking bits.
Interesting as they were, she was kind of scared of them. Were they angry animals? Would they bite? Could they hurt her? She took a step forward. A few of the animals looked up. Most of them kept drinking. The ones who looked up didn’t seem angry. They just watched her a bit, then kept doing their own stuff. Jane breathed all her air out. That was good.
‘Ask Owl for the flying animals’ name,’ she said. She couldn’t make lists like Owl did, but saying things out loud helped her not forget.
She walked to the water. It was not good water. It wasn’t clear, and it was thick with dust. ‘Not dust,’ she said. ‘Dirt.’ She scrunched her nose. A chemical slick lay on top of the water, making oily lines where it touched the ground. She didn’t know what chemical. Probably something leaking from the scrap nearby. The water smelled bad, too, which was a wrong thing even if the smell had been good. Water wasn’t supposed to smell at all. Jane stopped and thought about it. Owl had said any water she found out here wasn’t good to drink before it went in the filtration system, but it was so so interesting, this bad water. Also, the animals were drinking it and they were fine. She touched her finger in the water and put a big drop on her tongue. She spat it right back out with a loud sound. Metal and stink and bad things she had no words for. She spat and spat, but the taste lay down in her mouth.
‘How are you drinking this?’ she said to the animals. ‘It’s so bad!’ The animals didn’t say anything. Owl had said they couldn’t talk like girls did, but it didn’t hurt to try. Jane thought it would be good if they could talk. She wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t in a wall.