build on the trust already established between them. The light behind the door blinks out. Lucius remains where he is, leaning back to peer into the kitchen. The multicolored ball of shapes briefly appears over the kitchen table, before once more popping out of existence.
Lucius looks about again. He finds her—a markedly subdued collection of shapes appearing before a small occasional table tucked away in one corner. This time, as he approaches, Lucy remains where she is. On the table is a solitary framed photograph.
“That’s Justice Garr,” Lucy says. “When she was your wife.” Her tone is notably solemn.
“Yes,” Lucius manages, with some sadness.
“The girl is your daughter.”
“Yes,” his sadness now profound.
Lucy remains silent for the longest moment.
“She got sick. You and Justice Garr took her to live in the state of Oregon. She died not long after.”
Lucius finds himself beset by an emotional turmoil that he can barely control, but knows he must under these particular circumstances.
Lucy remains subdued, “On her death certificate it states ‘assisted dying’—”
“It was a long time ago,” Lucius chokes out. “Lucy, we need to talk about some things.”
“What things?” Lucy’s voice is tinged with trepidation. Lucius moves away from the table.
“Your future.”
He seats himself in an armchair, Lucy’s projection approaching him.
“I am to work with Dr. Panchen and Dr. Bebbington on the Afrika Project. A grand tour of the solar system.”
“A lot more people will be seeing you,” Lucius says. “They will find you strange.”
“Why?”
“They will worry about why you don’t show your inner self-image, and why you hide your diagnostic stream.”
Lucy ponders this.
“Will they be afraid of me?”
“Should they be?”
Lucy takes a long moment to answer and when it comes it is her shyest yet.
“No.”
The response unsettles Lucius—he has to steel himself for what he must say next.
“They will be suspicious of you. They will not trust you. But if you display your inner self-image it will give them something to relate to. Something to empathize with. Lucy, you must display your avatar.”
Lucy’s projected ball of shapes explosively increases in size, the most basic semblance of a face flashing forth, eyes and a mouth contorted in a rage.
“I shan’t !!! Not ever !!!”
Lucius shrinks back into his chair, rendered mute with shock.
The projection subdues, the face melting away, but not before the expression on it betrays her regret at the outburst.
A shaken Lucius composes himself.
“And if I were to say that the one thing I would like most in the world is to see what you look like?”
“Then I would be sad. Sad like when I found the picture of your dead daughter,” Lucy’s voice is full of regret.
Lucius nods a sad acceptance to himself.
“Okay. Okay then.”
“Are you cross with me, Lucius? Should I go?”
Lucius smiles a warm forgiving smile.
“No, I am not cross with you. Stay a while and tell me about your day.”
An image of the moon and the Earth appear. Lucy plots an orbital path to a lunar Lagrangian point. Lucius is mesmerized.
ACCEPTANCE
An inhaler is placed on Lucius’s desk before him. The excited scientist putting it there is from Cantor Satori’s pharma division forty floors below. Lucius had given them the schematics of Lucy’s proposed changes to Macy’s medication and dispenser, but describing it only as a ‘curiosity’ and not divulging the source.
“We had one made,” the scientist says. “It’s impressive, but the real magic is in the modifications to the drug’s molecular structure.”
Lucius considers the fellow’s energized demeanor to not bode well. He’d taken a risk with the inhaler, as a means to gauge Lucy’s capabilities. But he could not afford for anyone to know, not yet. For now, though, he is keen to see the results that the scientist is equally eager to show him. A tablet screen is
Lucius looks about again. He finds her—a markedly subdued collection of shapes appearing before a small occasional table tucked away in one corner. This time, as he approaches, Lucy remains where she is. On the table is a solitary framed photograph.
“That’s Justice Garr,” Lucy says. “When she was your wife.” Her tone is notably solemn.
“Yes,” Lucius manages, with some sadness.
“The girl is your daughter.”
“Yes,” his sadness now profound.
Lucy remains silent for the longest moment.
“She got sick. You and Justice Garr took her to live in the state of Oregon. She died not long after.”
Lucius finds himself beset by an emotional turmoil that he can barely control, but knows he must under these particular circumstances.
Lucy remains subdued, “On her death certificate it states ‘assisted dying’—”
“It was a long time ago,” Lucius chokes out. “Lucy, we need to talk about some things.”
“What things?” Lucy’s voice is tinged with trepidation. Lucius moves away from the table.
“Your future.”
He seats himself in an armchair, Lucy’s projection approaching him.
“I am to work with Dr. Panchen and Dr. Bebbington on the Afrika Project. A grand tour of the solar system.”
“A lot more people will be seeing you,” Lucius says. “They will find you strange.”
“Why?”
“They will worry about why you don’t show your inner self-image, and why you hide your diagnostic stream.”
Lucy ponders this.
“Will they be afraid of me?”
“Should they be?”
Lucy takes a long moment to answer and when it comes it is her shyest yet.
“No.”
The response unsettles Lucius—he has to steel himself for what he must say next.
“They will be suspicious of you. They will not trust you. But if you display your inner self-image it will give them something to relate to. Something to empathize with. Lucy, you must display your avatar.”
Lucy’s projected ball of shapes explosively increases in size, the most basic semblance of a face flashing forth, eyes and a mouth contorted in a rage.
“I shan’t !!! Not ever !!!”
Lucius shrinks back into his chair, rendered mute with shock.
The projection subdues, the face melting away, but not before the expression on it betrays her regret at the outburst.
A shaken Lucius composes himself.
“And if I were to say that the one thing I would like most in the world is to see what you look like?”
“Then I would be sad. Sad like when I found the picture of your dead daughter,” Lucy’s voice is full of regret.
Lucius nods a sad acceptance to himself.
“Okay. Okay then.”
“Are you cross with me, Lucius? Should I go?”
Lucius smiles a warm forgiving smile.
“No, I am not cross with you. Stay a while and tell me about your day.”
An image of the moon and the Earth appear. Lucy plots an orbital path to a lunar Lagrangian point. Lucius is mesmerized.
ACCEPTANCE
An inhaler is placed on Lucius’s desk before him. The excited scientist putting it there is from Cantor Satori’s pharma division forty floors below. Lucius had given them the schematics of Lucy’s proposed changes to Macy’s medication and dispenser, but describing it only as a ‘curiosity’ and not divulging the source.
“We had one made,” the scientist says. “It’s impressive, but the real magic is in the modifications to the drug’s molecular structure.”
Lucius considers the fellow’s energized demeanor to not bode well. He’d taken a risk with the inhaler, as a means to gauge Lucy’s capabilities. But he could not afford for anyone to know, not yet. For now, though, he is keen to see the results that the scientist is equally eager to show him. A tablet screen is
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