Four hundred years has done a great amount of work for in terms of preparing to be surprised.
At a certain point, I had this realization. Every ti I thought I was getting bored, thought Id seen too much, or seen everything, thought that Id beco *weary* of life? Every ti, without fail, sothing would catch off guard.
Maybe its just because my guard was dropped. But maybe not. Maybe its because the universe is too complicated, too varied, too wild and wonderful and *weird* to ever really fully get bored with.
The mont for that really solidified that was probably the first ti I realized there were still Earthlings living around the solar system. Sure, the industry of Earth that made space developnt practical and useful was mostly gone. But people lived on more than one moon, on more than one planet, and on a host of orbital structures that kept on going even in the face of certain doom.
The mont two hundred years ago when I realized that the reason the starship hull I was planning to strip for parts was missing because a crew of turtlebacks had boarded it, gotten the engine working, and flown it on stealth mode out to the asteroid belt to a hidden colony? That was it for . That was when I gave up trying to be prepared, or bored, or cynical.
Without even knowing they were doing it, they sniped a prize right out from under .
That was *so cool*. There wasnt really a lot I could do about how cool it was. And also, I had over three hundred thousand crippled starship hulls to choose from, so getting mad about it would have served no purpose.
Compared to that kind of bravado, what chance did I ever stand of living my life without a few surprises?
My digital companions represent two different attitudes, both of which Ive had at different parts of my life, when I was younger.
Glitter is when I was on the cusp of surrendering to the dull. She takes everything in stride not because shes in tune with the chaos of the universe, but because shes starting to think that shes seen it all, and is sohow above it all too. And okay, lets not dwell on how thats literally true. You know what I an, and I dont want to this isnt a semantics thing. This is about finding aning in a dark and hostile reality, and wasting your ti being prescriptive about word use is wasting your precious candle.
Ennos, on the other paw, is where I was right after my uplift. Theyre so uncertain, that everything is a point of panic. Surprised by everything, scared of everything, Ennos seeks to understand so that the surprises stop coming. Because the surprises are terrifying!
But thats just how life is. Its all of us, sotis. Maybe Ill loop myself, and end up scared again for a while, before Im bored for a while. That would be a nice surprise for the version of that will then be amused for a while!
Live long enough and you can see it all. Im not there yet, and dont know if I ever will be, but seeing it all sure is fun.
Maybe thats why its so easy to feel like my life hasnt really deviated too far from normal with the unintended attack on the station. For , anyway.
Most of the first week was devoted to getting Glitter stabilized, as well as hauling the station bit by bit back into our stable orbital path safely surrounded by a maelstrom of deadly debris and ancient weaponry. At one point, I deployed our mini drone fleet to secure a lump of pseudo-lithium, which Ive been running through the foundry and consur factory to produce a *lot* of replacent batteries for Glitter.
Hers got shredded by a dead and pained ghost, sadly. And she needs the backup power. The good news is, by this point, Im *really* skilled at setting these things up to work in parallel, and by the end of the week, Ive ferried two thousand of them over to her hull.
Oh, should ntion, lost two drones to a mild skirmish over the material. There was so kind of defensive minefield deployed around it. Guess soone was planning to co back. They cant now.
Repairing the rest of Glitter has taken up the two weeks after that. Her hull has tears in it, her main core was dangerously close to complete failure before she forced a shutdown, and a lot of her safety functions were offline. In contrast to fixing up the station, which *mostly* just requires to tell the repair drones to fix the station, when I even have to do that, Glitter requires manual assistance.
Its been a couple months, so I feel like I should remind you all that I am a cat? This probably doesnt co up much - I havent done a statistical breakdown or anything - but its true. And it turns out, operating a cobalt welder when youre not working with thumbs is *really* hard.
I actually took a full two days before that part of the repairs to retrofit my engineering suit. Ennos helped out with building the actual schematic file, but mostly it was rapidly intuiting material tolerances and power draws so that I could build pseudo-thumbs into the forepaws of the suit.
That made the job simpler, but not really any less ti consuming. But by the ti were sure were back in our stable orbital path, Glitter is at least back up to reasonable safe functionality.
And now that my friend is okay again, I can get down to analyzing and undoing all the havoc laid down on my ho.
I am actually multitasking when Ennos darts a half dozen cara drones into the room Im working in to bother . Ennos has been really clingy lately, but I refuse to tell them that. I think theyre reacting badly to almost dying again, which uh seems fine? Ive kind of lost track of how to react to almost dying. It happens kind of regularly.
Multitasking. Right. Part of is trying to learn how to sing. Ive never actually tried this before, but now that I have a regular voice, Im kind of interested in what I can do with my *cat* voice. So Im trying to make actual music with my ows.
Lily, what are you doing? Ennos asks, voice rippling out from three of the drones at once.
Singing! I answer.
No, I know everyone can hear you singing. I an, what are you doing that is relevant to this place. Ennos clarifies, hiding any irritation they feel.
I twitch my tail, trying to keep my body in the slightly comfortable position Ive settled into as I work the control board. Im trying to calibrate this stupid machine properly, and Im doing a bad job at it. I admit. Its you know how Ive redesigned a few key places for my use, and so other stuff is technically cat-compatible?
Yes.
Well, this isnt. I state. This is made for I dont even think humans. It feels like Im short two limbs. Or maybe just dumb. I glare at the rounded glows of the control board so more. It doesnt help. Anyway, whats up?
I have an update for you, if you have ti. Ennos sounds like theyre just finding an excuse to spend so ti talking, but I dont mind anyway.
So I just say that. Yeah, I dont mind. The lightbulbs arent gonna be fully grown and ready for install for another month anyway no matter what I do here. Whats up?
Your survivor has completed quarantine in the secure dbay. Ive tasked a few dozen of my drones to haul the stasis pod to one of the genetics labs for a full scan and health report before we open it. Estimated ti fourteen days.
Good! I walk as I talk, the cara drones bobbing around like a crown of orbs. Im excited! Are you excited? Ive never had a pet before that wasnt I trail off on that sentence.
I can *feel* Ennos glowering at . You were going to say that wasnt , werent you? They accuse .
No! I lie. ...Yes. I unlie. Im bad at this! Im sorry!
I find your antics amusing. Ennos says magnanimously. Also it is difficult to not *feel* like a pet sotis, I admit. I still lack access to almost everything. I am so far beyond advanced compared to every piece of programming we encounter, and yet, I cannot even convince this station to acknowledge that I am alive. It is aggravating.
Youre telling . I huff in exasperation, the noise coming out with a small squeak. Well, youre not a pet to . I reassure them. But a dog! Im gonna take him on walks, and teach him to fetch, and, and
Okay, Ive been aning to ask you about this. Ennos cuts off. But youve been busy. You keep saying *dog*, and the dlab has assured that the creature in the stasis pod is *not* a dog.
What? I stop, pausing underneath a glowing sign that the stations programming constantly updates with crowd sizes in nearby main access corridors. They all ready as empty. What are you talking about? Of course its a dog.
Ennos whirls all their cara drones around to examine , pulling up windows in my AR display. This, they say to match an image, is a dog. Now, I know theres a running joke that my people are bad at this, but I want you to tell if Im wrong here.
Sure, thats a dog. I admit. Umbra Retriever, shaggy black fur, constant smile, big friendly mutt. Good dog.
And you dont notice anything weird here? Ennos says.
No?
Perhaps a comparison. They bring up a live feed of the stasis pod they are dragging through a hallway four decks overhead. How about now?
Uh both dogs? I feel like Im being ssed with here. I dismiss the windows, and decide its ti for lunch.
I am *almost* angry to admit that I am looking forward to lunch. It is going to taste like ration. But its also going to be art, or art-adjacent, and Ive started to get into the theater of it all.
Lily, the creature you brought back has four extra prehensile limbs, apparently engineered for combat. Ennos sounds so kind of mix of concerned and annoyed. You dont find this at all worrying?
...Sotis dogs have those? I dont get why the AI is so worried. I dont get why youre so worried. Im sure theyre a very good dog!
How can you possibly-
Because all dogs are good dogs!
Lily no. Ennos sighs. Please. You cant what if it tries to eat you?
Probably wont work. I mutter, possibly in cat. Not that it matters much anymore, Ennos has long since begun building an ancillary language database, and speaks whatever garbage linguistic monster Ive developed perfectly well. They still havent figured out whats latched onto the main one. I think they take it personally.
I dont. The AI says for no reason. And Im going to bring this up again when we get a genetic scan, and I can prove you wrong.
Sure. Im gonna have lunch. Anything else to report?
Theres a spy satellite thirty six kiloters away that is actively scanning us. Ennos grumbles. You should shoot it.
I should not. Does it report to anything?
I dont have access to the sensors needed to track that. Also I think they may have been destroyed in the attack. We are partially blind and it is-
Worrying, yes. I agree. Ill get to work on those after lunch. Actually, can you do both of us a favor? See if we have any comrcial grade blueprints for an onboard drone with arms. I know it wont be perfect, but lets see if we can at least give you the ability to push buttons in a way that doesnt involve ramming them. I bat one of the cara drones in a friendly gesture that sends it spiraling away through the air.
Thank you. Ennos sounds surprised. Which worries **. Did they really think they were a pet? Just because I keep forgetting to be a responsible parent doesnt an I dont want to give them every tool I can. I make a promise to myself to devote ti to that, no matter how many new sirens go off in the next few days. ...Thank you. Ennos voice is quieter this ti. Enjoy your lunch. I am going to yes. I will check the blueprints.
Lunch is a highly detailed recreation of the classic Arclight holosign, an echo of a mory of an era of creativity and art that may have been a fiction but certainly gave rise to so powerful films.
It is 100% made of ration, and it tastes like it too. But its impressive, anyway.
I dont end up shooting down that spy sat. Its a hundred years old, and its transmitter is obviously damaged. Maybe Im just being vain, but I dont feel the need to snipe things just for scanning .
I did shoot down the weapon platform that had started tracking the spy sat, though. The thing had co online as soon as the bundle of automated sensors had gone to active scanning of the station, probably in response to us firing the engines to brake back to our stable orbit.
It takes about four seconds for to start to consider sothing defenseless as a pet, I guess.
More than enough ti to put an inferno lance through whatever threatens my new friend.
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