What a convenient thing to have around, thought Tessa. I wish I’d had robots like this when I was leading the Mithril battle group. Loading and unloading cargo, cleaning, doing work at dangerous heights... They almost seem wasted on combat.
《Beaching complete,》 said Al. 《Are we going to repair it?》
“In the dark? We’ll have to wait until morning,” Tessa said in annoyance, then held her watch up to the cabin light. There were about five hours until dawn. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.” She pulled a shawl out of her suitcase, wrapped it around her shoulders, and lay down to sleep.
《Shall I stand watch? Remaining in alert mode until dawn will deplete about 30% of my internal battery...》
“That much? Hmm...”
The primary flaw of the Alastor was its short run time. It ran on battery power, so it couldn’t run close to five days independently the way an AS could. Half a day of walking would fully deplete its internal battery. She had no idea if their destination village would let them use its generator, and the spare batteries in the crate would only last for about two days (plus, it would take quite a lot of time to charge them).
Perhaps anticipating Tessa’s thought process, Al made a suggestion. 《What if I put myself on standby in hibernation mode, then reboot once every twenty minutes to scan the area for anomalies?》
“Let me think... Yes, let’s do that.”
《Roger. Good night, then.》
Under Al’s control, the Alastor knelt down in a corner of the cabin and froze. It appeared to have gone into hibernation mode.
“Well, then.” Tessa turned off her light, and lay back down on the hard bench. She intended to explore Lantanfushi Island once morning came, but she wasn’t even sure if the people in the village would speak English. She’d thrown Murat, the man who was supposed to serve as a guide and interpreter, into the ocean, after all. Would she be able to explain that she was Bani Morauta’s friend, and that she had come to seek out his surviving family?
Bani Morauta was Al’s creator, who had also been a Whispered, like Tessa. He was the one who had developed the ARX series—lambda driver-mounted prototypes, like the Arbalest—as part of Mithril’s research division. When it came to the invention of theoretical super-technology, he’d had far greater potential than Tessa.
They’d first met in a dining hall at one of Mithril’s research facilities in California. She’d only been eleven years old, and under the guardianship of her adoptive father, Admiral Borda, learning all about naval combat. She was still young then, still burning with a sense of mission—to build history’s greatest submarine and use its power to bring stability to the world. She’d already lost her brother, but she’d channeled that despair and distress into her challenging work.
“Can I sit here?” Those were the first words he’d ever said to her.
Gulping down her not-particularly-appetizing macaroni while keeping her eyes locked on the sheaf of documents she was reading, Tessa had just said, “Sure.”
A few minutes later, he’d said, “You’re very enthusiastic.”
“Yes,” she’d responded indifferently, paging through her documents.
“You should at least enjoy the taste of your food while you’re eating. I kind of feel sorry for the macaroni.”
I’m busy. If you want to find someone to make small talk with, go find someone else— She’d looked up to say that to him and then seen him for the first time. He was a boy, just about her age, standing in front of her with a smile. He had smooth brown skin and a gentle, symmetrical jawline. His eyes were deep and black, and seemed to perceive everything around them.
Tessa knew at first sight that he was the same kind of person she was. There were no children in this facility except for her.
“Is that R. Draf’s thesis?” he’d asked. “Is it interesting?”
“Not really. I’m just reading it because I have to for my current line of research.”
“I see. So you’re not enjoying the macaroni or the essay.”
Tessa had glared at him. “So what?” she’d said icily. “If you’re trying to make fun of me, I’ll have to ask you to refrain.”
Bani had just shrugged a bit. “I don’t mean it like that. I just have two points of advice for you. one: that’s the version written for publication in PLOS One, so it omits several important points that the DoD requested be redacted. You should request the full version from DARPA, with the appendix.”
“What?” Tessa had checked the essay in her hands. Neither the cover page, table of contents, or back matter mentioned the existence of an appendix. But then, she’d been feeling as though it was lacking something...
“And warning number two... Macaroni is never good cold,” Bani told her. “You have to eat it while it’s still hot, with lots of cheese on top.”
“I don’t need your advice. The point of food is to provide nutrition, and this essay is just fine as it—” Tessa started to say, and then stopped. She’d hated to admit it, but he’d been right. If she’d kept reading like that, she might have wasted another few hours. “No, I appreciate it. Thanks,” she’d said sulkily. She hadn’t been used to having others point out her errors, so she’d switched to an attitude that seemed to say, Satisfied now?
“You’re welcome,” he’d told her. “I’m Bani Morauta. You?”
“Teletha Testarossa.”
“A pleasure, Teletha. But I’d like a reward for pointing out that you were reading the wrong essay and helping you keep from wasting your time.”
“What do you want?” she’d asked, cautiously.
Bani had smiled in response. “Ten minutes to chat. Food tastes better when it’s had over conversation.”
“Very well. If that’s all you want, I’ll humor you.” After that, she’d talked with him while eating her cold macaroni. The next thing she knew, they’d been talking for forty minutes. And within a few days they were having lunch every day.
Bani had killed himself over two years ago. He’d attempted deeper and deeper access into the omnisphere using the consciousness transfer system known as the TAROS. During his final effort, he’d contacted the abyss of the Whispers and lost himself to it.
Tessa hadn’t been there at the time. On the day Bani died, she’d been out on a test voyage with her submarine, the Tuatha de Danaan. She’d only heard the news upon her return a week later.
In the Mithril research facility on the outskirts of Melbourne, Bani—the head of the first division there—had sneaked a pistol in and gone berserk, trying to destroy the core unit of ARX-7—Al. When he’d failed to do so, he’d instead fired the gun through his own head. They said he’d died instantly.