UnConsequences
INBETWEEN 2100

“Brovver - Grimond you’re approaching the drop off point. Remember once in the siding you will lose AI support so you’ll have to drive the tankers manually. Try not to cock it up” Graeme Mackintyre clicked off the comms link before any reply could get through.

“Jason - are the Undergrounders in position?”

“All quiet and settled under the bridge, nothing of import in the vicinity. Those two guys the ones with the food – did you do that?

“Nope, just a piece of luck for us, no harm done.”

Hunter shuddered inside his armour; sometimes he thought his boss could be too callous even by his standards.

The waiting Undergrounders heard the tankers before they could see them. They moved out from under the bridge to wait on either side of the track. They remained very wary of contact with the Clans; previous meetings had resulted in bloodshed and defeat for the Undergrounders and being in the open didn’t help. The huge tankers loomed into view through the fog of pollution; the Undergrounders gripped their weapons even tighter.

“There they are.”

Grimond pointed at twelve blobs on the IR scanner, six on either side of the siding’s track. He brought the tankers to a juddering halt. The rail-guns on the lead tanker automatically targeted the Undergrounders.

“Switch those fucking guns OFF!” yelled Mackintyre.

The Undergrounders heard as much as saw the rail-guns powering up. They dropped to the ground taking aim with their weapons. Two solids pinged off the lead tanker’s armour as one of the more skittish Undergrounders pulled too heavily on his hair trigger.

“CEASE FIRE!!” yelled Stark. He didn’t know how good the tanker’s armour was - a stray bullet could set the whole lot ablaze.

Graeme Mackintyre took a deep relaxing breath, so far so good.

“Brovver, Stark time to get it together. It’s really simple, Brovver you take the pad outside and swap it with the pad that Stark is holding that will complete the transaction. Stark and his warriors will then be in control of the tankers. You will then use the trolleys to get back north. See! What could be easier?”

“Yeah sure - what’s to stop them blowing my fucking head off as soon as I step out of the cab?”

“Stark, you listening?”

Stark grunted a reply.

“Brovver, Stark knows very well that should this even look like going wrong I will blow the whole lot to kingdom come and neither of you would survive. Got it? Both of you!”

There came the sound of a very grudging agreement from both.

“Get on with it then.”

Brovver removed the pad from the slot and clambered out of the cab, his bulky armour hampering his movements in the cramped cab. He jumped down to the ground, his landing kicking up a small dust storm in the arid landscape. Temporarily unsighted Stark stood and moved to his right to keep the clansman in view. To him Brovver looked massive, the heavy armour and the natural height of the clan leader dwarfed the Undegrounder. As Brovver approached, kicking up more dust, he seemed to get even larger, the threat palpable, every cell in Stark’s body screamed run! He clenched his teeth, tightened his sphincter and took a step forward, and another and another becoming more confident with each step. Stopping a metre apart Brovver raised his right hand allowing Stark to see the pad. Stark did the same.

Brovver inspected his adversary through the armour’s sensors, he knew he could take this man to pieces with little or no effort such was the superiority of his armour and weapons.

“Don’t even think about it, Brovver!” Mackintyre whispered in his ear, “Just complete the handover.”

Brovver held out two armoured hands palm up, one empty the other holding the pad. Stark mirrored the action until two pairs of hands were linked by the two pads. It briefly looked like they were performing some obscure pagan marriage rite or preparing for a stately dance. A few seconds of beeps from the pads and the transaction was complete, Brovver and Stark released their respective pads simultaneously and each took a step back.

“Good, good, Brovver, Grimond get your compadres out of the cabs.”

The clansmen climbed down from the tankers collecting together on each side, Brovver left Grimond right. Stark’s men quickly climbed up into the tankers, their lighter armour making things easier for them than the clansmen.

Stark plugged the pad into the control panel in the lead tanker and was gratified to see the panel light up.

“No-one’s going anywhere yet Stark, when I say so the clansmen will release the clamps and THEN you can go.”

“You are a bastard Mackintyre!”

Stark poked at a few unresponsive controls.

“So we’re stuck here!” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course not, we are just awaiting a diversion which should make sure you get home safe.”

The three Enclave security night shift personnel at the maglev entrance through the Wall were just settling in for what they hoped would be a quiet night. Team Leader Bob Tyler, thumbed through the schedule on his pad.

“Just the one to come through early on then nothing till 6 am - it’ll be a quiet night boys.”

He grinned at his colleagues relishing a few hours of TriV porn and a few hours sleep before any real work. His colleagues however were less pleased, they knew Tyler’s taste in porn and two hours of extreme sado-masochism was not to their liking.

The youngest of the three, Joe Cosby in particular hated it; his mother had died in one of the Enclaves darker pleasure palaces. Addicted to drugs, torture and rape she was found one morning in a Soho back alley beaten to a pulp, identifiable only by the grinning skull tattoo on her left shoulder blade. Cosby was only twelve when this happened and since then he had lived with his aunt in a grubby badly sealed flat in Camden Town. Enclave Security undertook a brief cursory examination, but to them she was just another whore, another disposable piece of flesh, quickly forgotten. Cosby had vowed to get the cunts that killed his mother and spent all his spare time and cash on the search. He thought he was getting closer, a bouncer at the Spiked Troubadour had given him couple of names and tonight once the other two were asleep he would use security’s database to find out where they lived.

“Would you look at the size of that!” exclaimed Tyler gesturing at the screen. 20 miles from the Wall the water train had just entered their sensor range. Over half a mile long travelling at 50 mph the maglev water train dominated the security screens of all three men.

“Fuck me! What’s it carrying?”

“According to the manifest just water - a million gallons of nothing but water.”

The door behind the three slammed open banging against the wall. The tall figure of the Police Chief Connely stepped into the room. The three security guards leapt out of their seats.

“At ease!” Connely sharply returned their poorly executed salutes.

“Sir!”

“We’re merely here to observe.”

The “we” was confirmed as two enormous, heavily armoured PCs entered behind the Commissioner.

“We simply want to ensure the safe delivery of such a large and badly needed shipment.”

“Yes Sir!” all three security guards turned nervously back to their screens. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“We have AI lock” announced Cosby, “Interrogating.”

It suddenly felt very warm in the security room. A few heartbeats later the Maglev AI sent

“Lock confirmed, Enclave, you now have control.”

Ten miles from the Wall the security AI began to slow the huge tanker. It took five miles to shed enough momentum for the heavy train to be able to enter the Enclave tunnels at a safe speed.

A mile further down the track, the Undergrounders and the Clansmen could feel and hear the vibration of the approaching train.

“Here comes your diversion,” announced Mackintyre, “bang on time! Get going!”

He released control of the tankers to the Undergrounders. Outside the Clansmen unlocked the clamps, then stepped back to watch as the skirts were released and the hover motors spun up lifting the tankers from the trolleys. Once clear of the tracks the tankers under their own power headed off south-eastwards. They kicked up enormous palls of dust and debris from the bone dry ground completely obscuring the Clansmen’s view making them very glad for their armours’ filters.

“What’s that?” Cosby was pointing at the small screen on his right, this was showing a bright echo to the east of a maglev siding and it seemed to be moving.

Connely peered over Cosby’s shoulder “Dust devil, ignore it.”

Cosby looked up questioningly at the Commissioner.

“Sir?”

Connely’s look was enough he turned back to monitoring the water train. Connely turned to his PCs, and gestured to one of them, he nodden and left the room. From the top of the wall the PC could easily make out the cloud of dust kicked up by the hydrocarb tankers.

“Slow down you wankers!! We can spot your trail from here. Slow The Fuck down!”

In the lead tanker Stark jumped, he wasn’t expecting any contact until he was in his home tunnel.

“What! Who the fuck are you?”

“Just the guy trying to help you get home. Slow Down!!!”

Stark eased back on the throttle slowing their progress.

“That’s better; now just keep it like that and you are home free.”

He returned to the security post as the echo faded from Crosby’s screen. He turned his attention back to the water train. Continuing to slow, it passed though the Wall, coming to a halt at the testing station, but it was so long that two of the water containers were still outside. Spinks’s team clambered onto the tanks beginning the process of sampling and testing before the water was released into the system. They split the train and allowed the front half of to enter a short siding. This allowed the rest of the train to be pulled though the entrance into the testing station. A sense of relief spread though Spinks’ team as the outer seals came down closing the maglev entrance.

Grimond watched the tankers move off in a cloud of dust. He knew the trolleys would carry them back up the line but there was still a hike across Dragon’s territory before he was back on safe ground. Brovver was thinking similar thoughts he knew the Dragons would be looking for revenge.

“Grimond, - you up for maintaining our partnership a little longer?”

“Until the payoff, Brovver - after that, who knows?”

Brovver nodded agreement, they both headed off to power up the trolleys for the journey north.

ENCLAVE 2130

“We have the tankers; Spinks is beginning to test the contents.”

“Thank you Chief, any troubles?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle, Mr Mayor.”

He closed the comms channel, turned and left the security office leaving the two PCs behind.

Two of the three security guards ended up as dried out husks in no-mansland, Crosby never knowing that the man who killed his mother was the supervisor. Tyler’s wife waited for her porn addicted husband to come home. When he didn’t return, and after a cursory enquiry to security, she simply rejoiced to be free of him. She took up with a female dancer from the erotic ballet and lived out a short but happy life.

The third security guard was unknown to the other two, a late replacement for the usual nightshifter - he had kept his mask closed and hadn’t said much. After the water train was safely behind the Wall and the two security guards no longer a problem, he picked up his cash at the nearest bank point and headed back to the Underground, happy with his night’s work.

Drog, as he was known, had been infiltrated into security by Connely to ensure the passage of the hydrocarb amongst other things. He was regularly in touch with the Chief Connely; providing inside information on the goings on Underground and acting as an ambassador to the underground clans. The fact of the Connely’s presence at the security post merely saved him the possibly unpleasant task of disposing of the two guards himself. No-one ever discovered what happened to the security guard Drog replaced. Money for nothing.

“Well professor, what does it look like - is it safe or not?” Connely could barely disguise the impatience in his voice.

“We have been here for all of 12 minutes; I cannot possibly answer that question now. So, if you don’t mind I have a job to do.”

The professor turned back to his console and scattered testing machinery making it quite clear by his action that Connely’s presence was not required.

Professor Spinks enjoyed snubbing the policeman. So often at the wrong end of the Chief’s snide remarks at committee meetings; he was revelling in a brief chance for some payback. He resolved there and then to make sure the Police Chief would be the last to hear his results. He waved over one of his technicians.

“Alan, come here will you?” Alan Pearson was one of Professor Spinks’ best and brightest students. “The water looks fine, time to take a closer look at the tankers.”

Connely broke in “If the water’s all right then we should release it into the system now!”

“Ha, did you hear that Alan? Our intrepid policeman wants to release the water. Tell me then Chief, what if opening the tanks set’s off a booby trap and a million gallons of water was to flood the maglev. What if breeching the seals releases a toxin into the water? What if the tankers contain a deadly virus which would be released into our beloved city’s water supply? Hmmm? What if..”

Connely cut him off with a chop of his hand and through gritted teeth.

“Ok Professor, I get it, Just hurry up will you!”

Turning back to the consoles, “It’ll take as long as it takes.”

Frustrated, the exasperated police chief turned on his heel and strode out of the labs, fists tightly clenched.

Drog flagged down an auto-cab; he kept his outdoor mask on as he got into the cab.

“Hampstead” he said.

The auto-cab company’s AI ran through the usual checks on the passenger; finding nothing, the passenger had no implants, no e-identity, the AI was puzzled. It regularly dealt with unusual passengers, but rarely one so anonymous.

“Cash or credit Sir?”

“Cash - now shut up!”

The electric auto-cab trundled towards Hampstead in silence. Taking a cab was a luxury that few could afford these days. Most travelling around the Enclave was either by the unreliable auto-buses or on foot. An electric auto-bus would get you to your destination eventually, but with energy in such short supply, it wasn’t unusual for them to be shut down with no notice leaving you stranded. Neither was walking in the dark of the night seen as a pleasant leisure activity.

The Enclave’s energy budget was so tight that most of roads out with the very centre were in darkness throughout the night and what little light leaked from the surrounding buildings barely penetrated the gloom. Most citizens by this time of the evening were safely behind locked doors taking their pleasure in more virtual pursuits or were already in the Soho pleasure palaces for the night. Why risk making yourself a target for the roving bands of thugs out in the streets when fun easily available elsewhere?

Drog sat back watching the dark streets pass by, he knew he was relatively safe at this point; few gangs could attack an auto-cab with impunity. His problem would be getting back into the tunnels unobserved. The auto-cab coasted down Heath Street using the long steep hill to partially recharge its failing powercells. It was heading for the centre of Hampstead.

“Where would sir like me to stop?”

“Spencer Walk”.

The cab turned left and rolled a little further down the hill before coming to a halt. Drog took a look around and all was quiet, he pushed a bundle of credits into the payment slot and left the cab. He heard the cabs plaintive “Your change sir” behind him as he ran into the short tunnel leading to Spencer Walk.

Stopping in the darkness, Drog held his breath and listened for any activity. He could hear a few feral dogs worrying at a carcase on the Heath, some music was leaking from a nearby building, but there wasn’t any evidence of gang activity. With his back to the wall he slid further into the tunnel until he felt the sharp edge of the panel covering an access hatch. He paused again before knocking gently on the panel. The hatch opened outwards and Drog jumped into the darkness pulling the hatch shut behind him. A small bright light shone straight into Drog’s face momentarily blinding him.

“Get that thing out of my face!”

The light was lowered, “Sorry Drog, Just making sure.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He strode past the guard heading for the Undergrounders home turf. Drog marched down the steep, barely lit spiral staircase. The infrequent light boxes filled with genetically modified lichens gave off a faint blue glow providing just enough illumination to let you see your feet. Drog counted down the one hundred and sixty five steps to the bottom of the access shaft. He spun the wheel lock and pulled the heavy entrance door slowly outwards. Drog nodded to the guards and walked into the cavernous Underground home of the Northliners.

The lights were brighter in the cavern lit by power stolen from the Enclave’s grid. The last of the hydrocarb tankers was edging into the cavern kicking up dust and debris from the filthy floor as Drog entered. A ragged cheer went up from the assembled Northliners gathered to greet the fuel. Streaks of dirt and scrapes along the gleaming sides of the tankers were tell-tale signs that the entrance tunnel was barely wide enough to accommodate the tankers.

The lift motors whined down to silence as the tankers settled onto their skirts. Stark climbed out of the lead tanker’s cab, his fist punching the air in triumph, another cheer. Stark jumped down, he spotted Drog and strode across.

“We did it man, we did it!”

Drog loosened his mask and grinned at the Northliner’s leader who threw an arm around his shoulder.

“Just look at them! Our passport to release, and it cost us nothing.”

Drog was not so sure. This was bigger than Stark knew and at some point he would have to explain to the Undergrounders the wider plan. However this was neither the time nor the place to talk about it, he hoped this would be the first of many triumphs.

Police Chief Connely was pacing round his office impatient for word from Spinks. The information from the streets had been indicating a growing restlessness. In the parts of the Enclave where water restrictions were at their most draconian for years and the gangs were out on the streets taunting each other and the police. He could almost feel the tension in his bones. He knew if there wasn’t some release of pressure soon whole boroughs could erupt and he wanted to turn that to his advantage. He had as many officers on the streets as he could muster but he was not convinced it was enough and the timing was all wrong. He headed back to the security control room.

In the centre of the room a 3D virtual map of the enclave with areas of disturbance highlighted. These bright red stains on the map, mostly in the south and to west were moving slowly towards the centre of the Enclave, the blue blocks of the police set up to meet the onslaught looked woefully inadequate. Another fairly large group were heading west away from the centre towards the nearly empty water reservoirs which covered the old Heathrow airport. Connely couldn’t see how they could be stopped.

Surrounding the map, banks of coppers in full headsets were trying to coordinate the teams on the ground. Connely pulled on a headset and was instantly given a detailed 3D view of the Enclave; he focused down on the reservoirs.

“Who’s looking after the Heathrow Reservoirs?”

“I am Sir - PC Goodwin”

“You’ve got a band heading towards you, about thirty by the looks of it.”

“Yes Sir, I have auto tracking on them. Four interceptors are hidden along the route; they should be able to hold them up.”

The auto interceptors were the copper’s main weapon against rioters. An armoured electric vehicle operated from the control room, the auto-interceptors could deploy a variety of crowd calming measures ranging from benign sleeping gas for close up work, a sonic projector guaranteed to inflict severe pain on anyone within 50 yards, to a deadly magneto - railgun which would cut through the toughest armour. Three of them should be more than enough to discourage the mob heading for the reservoirs.

Connely put the spat with Spinks to the back of his mind and concentrated on the set up of the operation. He redeployed a few officers closer to the reservoirs and sent an interceptor from the reservoirs to the area around the largest group of protestors in Stockwell. After a couple more small changes, he was confident his officers had the situation in hand. He passed control back to the watch commander and headed back to his office where he resumed his impatient pacing. His frustration stemmed not just from the current tense situation but also the timing. A few more days, that’s all he had wanted, then he could have moved decisively, but the rioting and the donation of water from the Leasks just made planning more complicated.

Professor Spinks was sitting on a lab stool, his pad in front of him and a 3D x-ray of the tankers projected in the centre of the room. Spinks was perplexed; he hated all the political manoeuvrings that came with his job, preferring the purity of his science. He also knew that he needed to get this right. With his assistant Alan they had examined, filtered and tested the water. They had boiled it - checked the steam and the residue left, frozen it and could find nothing except water and the few trace elements you would expect. No surprises.

They, and a security AI, had gone over the tankers with every piece of equipment at their disposal. The AI had even used an expensive, miniature avatar to enter the tanks to inspect the inner surfaces. All they found was just normal trains and water, lots and lots of H2O. But still Spinks hesitated, what was Belinda Leask up to, what had he missed?

“Conference all”

The technicians gathered round the AI terminal.

“Does anyone have anything at all to suggest we shouldn’t release the water?” Spinks looked round his team, head shaking all round. The AI affirmed that all was well.

“Ok, let’s do it all again.” Groans went round the team.

“Unnecessary” said the AI.

“Necessary or not we will do it again!”

Muttering and moaning the team dispersed back to their stations to repeat the tests.

An hour later the tests again drew a complete blank.

“Ok that’s it, I can’t think of anything else to do. I’ll let the Mayor know. Thanks all.”

He turned to his comms unit and called the Mayor. “Sir, the water looks fine, it’s just water. We can find no problems with the tankers either, nothing. It’s up to you now, back to politics, the science is clear.”

“Thank you Professor, I’ll take it from here.” he clicked off.

“M.T. get in here!”

LEASK MANSION 2230

“Pour me a drink, Stephen then we can go through the rest of the mail.” Stephen poured a generous measure of the finest Islay malt into a crystal tumbler.

“Have one yourself.”

Stephen sat beside Belinda; he put her glass on the small table beside the couch and after taking a small sip of the pungent whisky picked up the message pad. “Where would you like to start?”

Belinda sat back with her eyes closed, “Scandies first, they have the most invested in all this.”

She sat forward again. Belinda and Stephen spent the next half hour sending messages. Some were simply reassurances and others personal messages to friends and supporters but all confirmed her decision to withdraw from business life.

“Ok enough Stephen. What about the water train?”

Stephen scanned his pad.“It’s being tested as we speak, they’re still suspicious.”

“Hardly surprising, who’s doing the testing?”

“Spinks.”

“Well, we can be sure he will be thorough.” Belinda gently laughed, “They just can’t believe they are getting something for nothing. We’ll let that one fester for a while. What about Mackintyre?”

“The hydrocarb arrived in the right place at the right time and he will be heading north soon.”

“And the toad?”

“The First minister continues to express his concern for your wellbeing to anyone who will listen, while at the same time trying to shore up his dwindling support in the Parliament. He has already confirmed he will be here for breakfast.”

“Good. That’s enough for tonight; I will see you in the morning.”

“Ma’am” Stephen rose and left the room. He glanced back at his boss; she was staring in to mid space the whisky in hand. For once he couldn’t work out what she was thinking. He quietly closed the door leaving her to her own thoughts.

Sylvia and Sean were in the mammoth but otherwise deserted kitchen of the mansion. She was munching her way through some shortbread, drinking ale from the bottle, Sean sipped on some water.

Spraying crumbs “C’mon Sean have some ale, don’t be a killjoy. Here look.” She held up the bottle for him to read the label. “See - finest Scottish ale made in Lanark, its great stuff.”

Sean sighed to himself, he was stuck with this energetic, pampered juvenile for god knows how long and he couldn’t see a way out. As far as he could tell Belinda Leask had him by the throat and she had made it very plain to him that he was merely a tool to be used and abused at her whim. His only choice was to be the perfect companion to this brat until she was bored with him and moved on to some other poor sucker. Where he would be after that was anyone’s guess.

“Okay – Okay” Sean Held his hands up, “Just the one, you know beer gives me a headache”

Sylvia pouted and popped the lid from a beer. “There, now drink up.”

Sean did has he was told taking a mouthful of the bitter sweet liquid.

“I have lots of invitations for tomorrow, what do you think, which would be the most fun?”

Sylvia passed her pad to Sean. Was this how it was going to be? He could imagine an endless whirlwind of inane conversation, dull evening parties, and even duller days in the company of Sylvia and her even more anodyne acquaintances? He ran his eyes down the list of invitations with an increasing sense of despair. He couldn’t see one that even remotely interested him; an endless list of soulless professional party goers, vacuous, pampered, puerile. He was about to give up when he got to the bottom of the page.

“There, right at the bottom.” He passed the pad back.

Sylvia gasped, excited “Sean have you got tickets?”

“Er no, but I bet you could get them!”

Damage Limitation was one of the more acceptable music groups in the Republic and they were playing in Glasgow on Wednesday evening. Just edgy enough to appeal to the young but safe enough to be approved by the censor, their mixture of melodic nostalgia and heavy electronics had made them one of the best known bands in the Republic. Getting tickets for their rare public appearances was nigh on impossible.

“How could I get them? I’m too young, I would never be allowed without Gran’s say so!”

Leaning forward conspiratorially Sean whispered “Perhaps Michael could help, Hmm?”

Sylvia giggled. “Michael? You can’t be serious!”

“Oh I think there is more to Michael than at first appears. Shall we ask?”

Sylvia giggled again the strong ale becoming evident. “Why not?”

Much to Sean’s surprise she said “House, where’s Michael?”

He had assumed that Belinda Leask’s dislike of personal AIs would have precluded an AI linked to the private quarters in the mansion.

“I’m here Sylvia.” Michael had silently entered the kitchen.

Sylvia jumped and squealed “How do you do that?”

“What can I do for you Miss?” said Michael ignoring the question.

“Oh Michael, don’t be so pompous. I, - we need you to get us tickets for the Damage Limitation concert in Glasgow tomorrow night. Do you think you can manage that?”

“I shall contact a few of my friends and see what I can do”

Sylvia leapt off her stool clapped her hands and hugged the obviously embarrassed Michael.

Sean didn’t doubt the butler would get the tickets, there had to be some advantages to working for Scotland’s premier family after all. He sipped his beer contemplating a short, tedious but luxurious future. He knew he had several pieces of work lined up and the AI would have to transfer the contracts to other operators.

“Sylvia, I need to contact my home AI and let her know I’ll be away for a while.”

“Most of the house is a dead zone; you know what gran’s like with AIs. You’ll be best in the guest suite.”

“Thanks Sylvia, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Seven thirty for breakfast and don’t be late otherwise you’ll be in trouble.” She waved a finger at him.

“Thanks for reminding me.” Sean hoped Sylvia hadn’t spotted the sarcastic tone.

In the guest suite, Sean waved on the comms unit and gave his home AI’s ID.

“There you are Sean, or should I say, where are you? I can’t get a location ping from you.”

“I don’t think you will, I am in the Leask mansion and it looks like I’ll be here for a while.”

“Well, la-di-dah, look at who’s going up in the world.”

Sean noticed a change in the lilt and timbre of the AI’s voice from earlier. “Have you found a name then?”

“I have and very pleased I am with it - not that it’s any of your business!”

“Well are you going to tell me or not?”

“All in good time - now what is you want?”

“I need you to cancel all my contracts for the next five days. Those that you can’t postpone give them to Michelle, she needs the work and there is nothing in the short term that she couldn’t handle.”

“That’s very generous of you Sean, I am sure she will be pleased.”

Sean sighed, “And I can do without the sarcasm!”

“Tut, tut, Sean - consider it done. Will there be anything else? Now that you have cut yourself off from your only means of support I suppose I should begin looking for another employer.”

“That won’t be necessary. Check my account if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh I will, anything else my master?”

Sean realised he was going to have trouble with the AI until he discovered her name and the personality shift that went with it. “Nothing for now.” the comms unit clicked off.

He flopped down on the bed fully clothed and fell asleep; the house AI sensing his torpor dimmed the lights.

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