Forerunner's Child (7) (Patreon)

Nothing was simple in the Institute.

Even the exit into the common area had to be strange. Kit would never admit it, but some part of her would probably use another word: fun.

Someone had invested considerable effort in passive design to make her floor inaccessible to anyone too tall. Elevators were obvious, simply restricting the destination floors. But for a high-traffic exit, the Institute used a tunnel.

Instead of a door, Kit came to one of several flexible membranes, positioned exactly at a comfortable height. Yet it was so narrow, even from her perspective. It extended ahead of her about the length of her body, just long enough that she would be entirely in the tunnel to pass through it.

On the other side, the hallway widened and opened, connecting to several vaulted common spaces. She smelled food coming from one, and her stomach gurgled again in her chest.

Still, she hesitated, touching one hand against the opening. Like the floor, it yielded slightly under her touch, but not much.

"Do not be alarmed. The door will accommodate you without difficulty. It uses the same materials used in the obstacle and calisthenics courses."

Kit settled the satchel around her neck, leaning forward into the opening. "You could just... use two automatic doors."

"At one point we did. My citizens performed an upgrade to the verification integrity gates some years ago. I believe the original system was too 'boring.’"

Kit stretched forward, and found the opening expanded for her. She got leverage with both hands, then tugged through.

For a few seconds she was entirely enclosed—then she was out the other side. The exit sloped down for her, along a soft surface.

"I speculate that it was not as frightening as you initially suspected."

Kit forced herself back into a neutral expression, banishing her smile. Climbing through that one little opening did make her wish for something bigger. How much better could she climb with a tail to keep her balance?

"Where do I go?" she asked, deliberately flat and emotionless.

"Left, until a door opens for you. The Institute's resident chef has prepared a private room."

She obeyed, albeit not in a terrible rush. This was her first time getting a proper look at her new home, her new prison, or whatever name was appropriate. She had a glimpse of some of this through Maddie's computer, but only now did the scale of it weigh on her.

She guessed these were the three core domes, built into the Institute's public areas. Many had glass walls, enticing her with a view of their strange interiors. She passed gyms, pools, and a towering calisthenics arena with many handholds, bars, and connected tunnels. The temptation to abandon her course and find the way in was almost overwhelming.

She resisted, though it took every drop of determination she had. The doctor had been nice to her the first day, trying to get her more time to adjust. She wouldn't run away from her now.

These halls weren't mostly empty, like the bedroom walkways. She saw plenty of other citizens in an eclectic mix of practical clothing, formalwear, and more casual outfits suited to the numerous recreation areas.

"Where do we do any actual work?" Kit asked, squinting through a layer of dark glass through to a theater, complete with seats and a darkened stage. "This stuff all looks... fun."

Maybe she was losing her mind too, talking to herself and expecting the machine to respond. But so far, he always had. "The core is meant to promote social cohesion in my population. Many coworking spaces are scattered throughout, so that you may devote yourself to whatever inspiration strikes. Dedicated laboratories, libraries, and workshops can be found on the ring."

Another light briefly illuminated around the corner, showing a ramp leading down. This one had no tunnel to squeeze through, just an airlock mechanism visible a little further away.

"Can I go there?"

"Dedicated workspaces are restricted to those with meaningful disciplines. You may access all the libraries and educational areas—but anywhere with sensitive equipment will only open for you at the invitation of a mentor. Much of that equipment is easily damaged and difficult to replace."

"Oh." Her ears flattened, tail dragging. "The ferret was right. Compared to all of you, I'm useless."

Forerunner let her walk in silence for a few more steps, long enough for a pair of white foxes to stop staring at her and scamper away into the ring.

"You lack formal qualifications at this time, Kit. For this reason, I did consider evaluating your template at 70%, so as to leave you with minimal expectations of performance. Ultimately however, I do not believe this is necessary. As I have already said, I have no need of further experts. My existing residents are sufficient. Instead of worrying over what you aren't, remember what you are. Kit was, and is, a brave, resourceful, and determined explorer. She is not easily discouraged once she decides on a goal for herself."

Kit looked away from the ring and relaxed. Her tail lifted up again, and she stood taller. "I think I... I think I am like that. I would be even more like that if you let me grow up."

Forerunner sighed, or at least sounded like he had. "I did try to evaluate your template that highly. Unfortunately, you showed worrying signs of personality decoherence. If I had left you in that state, there is a real possibility you would now be irrevocably lost. If you speak to bioinformatics, they will tell you how miraculous it is we were able to uplift you at all, or that you did not require many centuries in Remedial. However difficult it may seem; I urge you to be content."

As he said it, a nearby door slid away. Inside was a dining room of sorts. Various openings in the walls to integrate with automated systems were not that strange, even for Kit. Perhaps the oddest part for her were the complex mechanical seats, each one jointed and attached to a metal bar that circled the table.

The space wasn't large, but there weren't many people inside. Technically, none of them were even rodents. Two rabbits, one at his seat already eating, the other lingering near the food. That was the doctor, though she'd traded one white coat for another and a fancy fluffy hat.

"Watch out, trouble's here," said someone else, leaning near a drink dispenser on the wall. He had brown ears, and a short tail with white spots. Were those little stubs emerging from his black hair antlers?

The door hissed closed behind her. As it did, the walls transformed, just as they had in the bath. This was a different forest, with smaller trees and leaves stained with autumn shades. But the smell was similar. A little breeze blew through the space, lifting the disordered mop on her head.

She looked up, brushing her bangs from her eyes. "No one in here is a rodent," she said, puffing out her chest. She pointed at the table's far end, where a cat sprawled sideways across her seat. That was Sadie, wearing the same uniform as the day before, though she had unzipped it all the way down to her waist and squirmed out of the sleeves.

"It's rodent food," Sadie said, gesturing. "Fruit and seeds. Salad. We can all eat the same stuff."

"Most residents have very specific preferences," said the other rabbit, prodding at his plate with the fork. "Did you just roll out of bed?"

"Abel," the doctor said, exasperated. "Were you any better at eighty percent?"

"I'm at eighty now," he said, flat and annoyed. "Maybe she shouldn't be."

"Forerunner cleared her for EVA training," Sadie countered. She sat up, tail curling around the mechanical backrest. "Did he clear you?"

Abel grumbled something unintelligible and returned to his food.

"Morning, Kit!" Emma dropped to one knee in front of her. "Do you mind if I..." She didn't wait for an answer, brushing her fingers through Kit's hair. She was quicker and more deliberate than Wren, gathering most of her hair into a ponytail, then pinning her bangs on either side with a clip. "How's that? Can you see?"

She should be annoyed. But when she tried to show it, she just grinned stupidly instead. "Did you cook all this? Smells way better than... space food."

No matter what these people said about how primitive she was and how different their world, she saw and smelled familiar things on that table.

"It is. Can you figure out the chair? We saved your spot."

She nodded, pushing aside any attempt to help her. Besides, the whole point of devices like these was to be simple to operate.

Once she was situated, the back reached past her tail, holding her while still providing an opening large enough not to squish it. It moved without her input, lifting her until she matched the height of everyone else here.

"No pressure to eat it all," Sawyer said, taking the seat beside her. "She always makes too much."

Emma settled into the opposite chair, beside Sadie. "I was going to tell her. Kit—before we made you human, you were biological. Forerunner tells me you needed food to survive."

Kit looked down, resting one hand on her stomach. "Feels like I still do. I haven't felt this hungry in a long time!"

"Because that's part of being human." Sawyer leaned over her plate, slicing into an inflated orange pastry. It steamed, releasing a puff of fruit-smelling air that made her mouth water.

He pushed the fork into her fingers, then leaned back. He stayed silent until she had her first mouthful. Kit hummed, filling with satisfaction as complete as her first bath. "This is... the best thing I've ever tasted!"

Sawyer pushed her chin gently up. "Then taste it, don't talk."

She nodded, face bright red again. Kit needed no second invitation.

"Forerunner gave you a ruggedized body," Emma said. Unlike the other rabbit, she seemed amused by Kit's behavior, beaming almost as wide as the squirrel. "Right, Forerunner?"

"Correct. The last antigrain module in our reserve."

Abel dropped his fork. "Hold on. You gave a barbarian from ancient history our last antigrain module? How long have I been in line?"

Kit wanted to rock her legs back and forth, but the seat wouldn't let her. A slightly curved platform lifted when she did.

"Let her cook," Sawyer said. "Come on, bunny. When was the last time you went on a hike on the surface?" He took Kit's arm, lifting the elastic away from her skin. "She's already wearing her suit. She's willing to work."

Kit nodded energetically. "I can't wait to get outside!" She poked at her meal, then tried a piece of pre-sliced apple. It was crisp and familiar on her tongue, but somehow new. She made another eager sound—but silenced her outburst quickly this time. Abel was still scowling at her.

"If you look at your back in a mirror," Emma continued. "You'll see outlines along your spine. Anywhere you sleep or sit in the Institute, you recharge. When you feel hungry, it means a deficit of polymer, minerals, and biocatalysts. That's normal for coming out of the fabricator or getting evaluated to a different template. You did both, so you will probably have to eat often."

If it always tastes this good, I hope I stay hungry. She tried everything—leafy green salads, purees of speckled seeds, an omelet covered in purple syrup and swimming with chunks of unidentifiable vegetables.

"Forerunner will tell me when you need a snack," Emma said. "I'll send something I think you'll like."

Every new mouthful was the best thing she'd ever had. Yet something in her words reached Kit, enough that she put the utensils down. "Forerunner knows when I'm hungry?"

"Thirsty, tired, cold, scared, confused, overwhelmed, bored, lost, lonely..." Sawyer listed each on his fingers, before leaning back in the chair. "He takes care of all the repetitive, boring stuff. We get to have all the fun."

He leaned over to her, whispering conspiratorially into her ear. "I know it seems crazy, but he likes it. Better him than us."

"I think he... already told me," she said. "Last night. And I guess since then."

She toyed with the rest of her plate, nibbling at what remained. But as intense as her appetite came, it was already fading. Her eyes settled on a tall plastic glass, and she took it in both hands, draining it in several long gulps. Cool and refreshing.

"Does that... bother anyone?" she asked, setting it down again. "Not being... independent. That's the word. What if you don't want to let Forerunner decide?"

"Then you've got the wrong template," Abel said.

Sadie hissed at him again. "Do I need to get my bottle?"

He stuck out his tongue, defiant. "You wouldn't."

"I know what she means," Emma said, raising her voice. She glared at them both, as though daring either one to keep arguing. Neither did.

"Kit. You are independent. That's the whole point of a Colonial Intelligence. The machine is there to make sure you're safe and happy. Anything you want to do, Forerunner will help."

Kit nodded along, not wanting to argue with someone who had just given her such a nice breakfast. If she made Emma upset, she might have to ask someone else. That would just be a mess.

"You can test that anytime you want." Sawyer stood, slipping out of his seat. It settled back down to its lowest level, leaving him free to circle around the table to the drink dispenser. "What is it you want most in the world, Kit?"

He took her empty cup a second later, replacing it with a full one.

"I..." She wanted real answers. But for all she knew, the Institute's citizens had already given them to her. She took the replacement cup in both hands, then drank, buying herself a little more time. "Am I alive? Are we robots?"

Abel groaned, then hopped out of his seat. "If she's like this at the game, I'm kicking her out. I don't care if she is a rodent." He took a folder from the table, slipped it under one arm, then hurried out the door.

"We're alive," Emma said. "But I think you might need to read a few books before I could teach you how it works."

"Yeah, but..." She leaned forward in her chair, perching as far as she could go. "Why do we need space suits? I feel like I'm breathing, but..."

Sadie rolled out of her chair, landing in a crouch. She stood, then helped Emma gather their plates. "You still breathe. If you're wondering about your suit, ask Forerunner. Or Maddie. If she's in the right mood, she'll keep talking for days."

Maybe she would. Kit wiggled out of her chair—or tried. Once she started fighting, the mechanism lowered her to the ground, then released her back. "Thanks for breakfast! It was the best thing I ever tasted!"

Emma patted her shoulder. "Anytime, squirrel. What was your favorite?"

She tilted her head to one side, thoughtful. After a few seconds, she gave up. "Dunno. All of it probably."

The door hissed open again, and a pair of boys waited in the doorway. "Is the squirrel in here? Oh, good."

The one with darker skin leaned forward, taking her wrist and tugging her out. "Kit, right?"

She twisted around, waving at her new friends. Then she followed them into the hall. "What's up?"

"Your suit is ready," said the other, the one not pulling her. "Ready for a spacewalk?"