Forerunner's Child (28) (Patreon)

But when the door did open, she found no gigantic pit waiting for her, or vats of slimy blue flesh like what Wren left on the transport floor. She adjusted the former director in her arms, stepping out into a reception area. No humans of course, not even a desk—just a single comfortable chair, reclined and padded enough that someone her size could probably sleep there comfortably, if she wanted to.

The ceiling curved downward gradually to meet a doorway on the opposite wall. At Kit's height, she would just barely fit through, though it would seem quite comfortable for someone Wren's size. Even here, Forerunner designed the colony's physical structure to make them feel like adults. There was another door near the elevator, one so high the ceiling cut it almost in half. Whatever waited on the other side was probably sized for actual humans, not her.

"I guess... this is it." Wren looked down, her tail hanging limp against Kit's chest, ears folding backward. "All the times I came here. Trying to... help. Never supposed to happen." She wiggled around, nudging Kit's chin. "Might be the same for you, squirrel. You're not... Pioneering Society pattern. Not a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy. Might have my office as long as I did. Never lose coh—co… your mind."

"This is likely," Forerunner said. His voice came much quieter here, and from very close. "Whether she elects to return and personally involve herself with those in Remedial is entirely her decision."

"She hasta!" Wren insisted, raising her voice. "They need to see... see it's good to grow up. Or else maybe they never will."

Kit dropped to one knee, setting Wren down on her own feet. She wobbled a second, but clung to Kit's skirt. Despite the open door leading further, she remained. "I'll do everything you did, Wren." In the short term she would, anyway. Without a long list of lies to maintain, the colony above was likely to make its own decisions about what to do with Remedial. For all they knew, future medical advances might eliminate the need to rehabilitate colonist sanity completely.

"You can go." Kit pushed on Wren's shoulder, just hard enough to break her grip. "You'll be happier there. Eventually you can come back."

"No," Wren said, insistent. "You're supposed to take me. You're the director of everybody now, Kit. You have to come down here and make sure we're safe. And when... we get..." She scratched her head, whimpering. "When we get smaller, you take us to our new home. Like I did when you were uplifted. Angel of death."

"I..." Kit sighed. But with Wren's description, maybe she would feel better about seeing the whole thing for herself. “Okay. Tell me how."

"Carry me," Wren said. "Inside. To my new... place. Stay until I feel safe." She yawned, stretching both arms as far as they would go. "I-if... that takes a while, then it takes a while."

Long enough to get you to bed, probably.

Kit picked her up, patting the director to soothe her. "You were an outsider once, weren't you? You don't act very much like an outsider."

The ermine only stuck her tongue out as Kit took her through the smaller doorway. She could fit if she stooped a little, but full templates would probably have to crawl. No trouble for a weasel like the old director.

"I was... first," she said. "Already... getting old. When the others died 'cept Maddie. Didn't... wanna... force the next generation if I didn't... safe. Went first."

"She was uplifted," Forerunner explained. "Like you, Kit. Your cognition is shaped by the substrate on which you exist, but some distinctions persist. Neither of you could remain yourselves if you were rewritten to conform with the lineage of humanity whose imprints I store. You think in ways they cannot."

Kit wasn't sure if she liked either side of that particular thought. Rumination on the state of future humanity could wait a while—at least until she wasn't worried about her colony dying.

The hall opened into a round, vaulted space, very similar to the one she had left—maybe it was exactly the same layout, a common area linked in three domes, with doors along the outside. Still two stories, with windows and balconies along the second floor. If she jumped, she could probably reach the ceiling.

Bright blue light projected on the ceiling, curving along a false sky. Fairly convincing clouds drifted by, along with a vibrant yellow sun. "Remedial time isn't synced with the Institute," she muttered, to no one in particular.

"Not quite," said another voice beside her—Forerunner's voice, though this came from a body instead of a disembodied speaker on the wall. "Constant time is an illusion of your perception, Kit. Your schedule is carefully managed to create the sense of progressing time. In Remedial, this is even truer. Each of the three domes has its own time, and colonists rotate between them according to their needs."

There were at least a dozen other drones in the room. Each resembled those working robots in Engineering, human in general shape without looking like a specific person. Instead of hard plastic and stainless steel, these were covered in fabric, more like jointed dolls than industrial machinery. 

The layout might be the same, but the facilities themselves weren't. She saw no theaters, no dining rooms and workshops and labs. Instead, Remedial had walls at her waist level, often without doors dividing them.

With no freedom of movement, the colonists here couldn't crowd around to stare at the newcomer. Only in one of the nearest cells did they approach to look at her, scurrying over to the soft barricade of their playground.

All were about Wren's age, in simple outfits suited to those who could not take care of themselves very well. Lots of elastic and secure buttons, with openings for tails. All had the same mix of animal and human as the colonists upstairs.

"Woah. She's big."

"Not Wren?"

"Look at her tail! Red!"

"Who are you, big lady?"

Wren, meanwhile, pressed her face against Kit's chest, ears flat and body shaking. You, shy? 

Kit approached, standing over the edge of their playpen. "Hi! I'm Kit, the new director. I'll have to come down and get to know you a little later. My friend here needs to get to bed."

"Kit," said a bunny with splotchy fur and splotchy hair, turning it over in her mouth. "I don't know no Kit. I know everybody. I see everything."

Not sure how you could, Kit thought, grinning down at the girl. Her glasses were so smudged with fingerprints that the girl had to look over them to see anything. But the bunny didn't seem to notice. "I'm new," she answered, turning to go. "I'll get to know everyone soon, I promise. Just not tonight."

She carried Wren through Remedial, following one of Forerunner's drones. Strange to see one smaller than she was—but not surprising, really. Adult humans would never even fit in here. Smaller drones probably used fewer resources, just like the tiny colonists.

Through a connecting door, and she entered a very different section—dome filled with flickering starlight, and a bright moon tracing its path above. Earth's moon, unless Kit was mistaken.

Her bare feet took her along a fake path through fake grass under a fake moon. But it still looked like home.

"I... I'll never go home," she whispered, tail curling around them both. She slid down to the grass, pulling her legs up to her chest. "There's no such thing as home anymore."

Wren blinked, opening tiny eyes. They seemed to glow in the pale light, opening wider than any human pupil could. She settled her feet under her, then touched one hand on Kit's cheek. "Can't break down now. They need you upstairs. You can't hide."

Kit released the girl, nodding tearfully. She didn't trust herself to say very much, not without her voice breaking—not without showing everyone just how terrified she really was. "I won't. I just... need a sec. Let me look at it."

Wren nodded, then wrapped her arms around Kit's tail. "It's okay if you come here. I think... they'll like you. They need a big sister. And since your mind was so... young... you're kinda like them." She squeezed as hard as she could. "Be strong, squirrel. My friends need you to take care of them now. I need you."

She sniffed, brushing one hand through Wren's absurdly long white hair. "You trust me?"

Wren let go of her tail, pressing up against her chest. "I can't help it. We're... made this way. Just like you can't hurt me. It's... inher—import… something. I think maybe I knew. Not no more."

"Her sleeping area is nearby," said the drone from just beside Kit, gentler than Forerunner as Kit knew him. "I did not know how long it would take for Wren to enter a state of decoherence, so I have had contingencies in place for a long time. If you are ready."

Kit wasn't, exactly. But Wren hadn't been either, any of the times she came down here. Kit picked her up again, rising shakily to her feet. "Show me."

Forerunner led her through many little sleeping spots, oversized communal cribs with abundant blankets and toys appropriately themed for their occupants. Among those was a corner near the river, where a handful of stoats, badgers, and otters slept in curled, uncomfortable-looking shapes. For Kit, anyway. The kids didn't seem to care.

"This is it," Kit whispered, circling around the pen until she came to an empty section. Someone had already set a blanket and pillow there, with little ermines around the outside. "Goodbye, Director."

Wren opened one bleary eye. She opened her mouth to say something—then yawned, reaching down.

Kit lowered her carefully, then covered her in a blanket. She caught a faint nod from the little director—then she was asleep.

"You should know," Forerunner said, using the same drone. He spoke barely above a whisper, right into one of Kit's ears. "Wren's decision to require a standard lifetime between assessments was arbitrary, not a requirement of your cognition. Those with the influence to do so often flaunted it, as the head of Engineering did."

Kit turned her back on the pen, and the many resting colonists. There were more people down here than the Institute above. "What does that mean?"

"You could visit for a few weeks at a time," he said. "Without depriving the Institute of your leadership skills. I could coordinate schedules so your disappearance would not be noticed."

Kit slowed in the hallway, glancing back at the drone following her. "I thought you said you needed a leader. Why are you trying to make me come down here?"

"I am interested in an innovative, successful Colonial Governor. Whatever conditions produce that outcome are ideal. If you would be more likely to succeed with an occasional vacation from the crushing reality of the colony's grim outlook, then I will facilitate it."

Kit left Remedial behind. She would be back soon enough to meet the colonists—they were her responsibility now too. But first—the Institute was waiting.