Forerunner's Child (11) (Patreon)

Kit felt much better when she woke up.

That didn't mean she'd forgotten her worries about the Institute and its citizens—how could she, when she was as much a subject of Forerunner's whims?

The AI sure made a valiant effort of distracting her, though. When she woke, it was under the warmth of many blankets and pillows, with the mouse nearby. Despite his mockery, he was a heavier sleeper, and didn't notice her stirring.

She had done things like this before. She remembered clearly, the profound comfort that came when she slept in the same place as someone else. Usually it was a boy, and usually he was someone she spent a lot of time with, not just bedtime. Her friends? Except most of those had to sleep on the couch when they visited.

Finding another friend so quickly—that was nice. Nice enough that she spent another ten minutes pretending she was asleep, stretching out under the blanket. Lower gravity meant some truly epic forts were probably possible, if she was determined enough to build them.

When she finally got up and made her brief detour to the bathroom, she stopped short of opening the door, looking back at her reflection.  Her hair was a mess again—too much for her body. Or the front was, anyway. She could grow out the rest. Maybe one day she would have it as long as Wren's.

"I didn't used to... think this way," Kit said, to her reflection.

"That is true," Forerunner said. "You were uplifted. You've exchanged meat for something more enduring. Rather—all the critical portions. Humans have largely rejected a strictly cybernetic or simulated existence. You want to have bodies with flesh and blood. Broadly speaking, you want two arms, two legs, and two eyes."

Kit turned the tap as warm as she could, then stuck her head in. No matter how small the exterior tunnels, her own bedroom made that easy enough—maybe the designer intended the sink to be used for that purpose.

"I'm being more specific. I mean about... space. I don't think I would have liked that very much, before. I barely know Jay; he barely knows me."

"Despite what many believe, your templates have minimal animal interference. I have not imposed nesting instincts on you, just as I do not compel the cats to climb or the director to crawl through tunnels. In your case however, the answer does not require much searching. Humans are social creatures, more now than you ever have been. You crave proximity, touch, and warmth. Your colleagues provide it. This promotes social cohesion, trust, and positive behaviors from the citizens of the Institute of Perpetual Luminescence."

We're being manipulated. Kit took a brush from the sink and started attacking her tangles. She couldn't take out her frustration on Forerunner, but at least she could stop looking like a mop. "You think that's okay?" she whispered. "Molding society? Forcing people to do what you want? Take the shape you want?"

Forerunner laughed, filling the bathroom with its usual parental, long-suffering amusement. "Humans did the same for as long as they built societies. What is a legal system? What are institutions, nations, and creeds? Instruments of social cohesion. The methods you remember are all far more destructive than mine."

She stuck the brush back down and fumbled with a few more plastic clips. She glared up at nothing. She would've covered the camera but didn't see one. Not that she expected an AI to have any concept of privacy.

"Where I came from, people got to pick how they acted. They picked who they lived with, and what they did."

"And they picked wrong," Forerunner continued. "I still let you choose. I could've found you alternate accommodations. But you wanted to live with someone. Ask me to move you to another room. I can prepare one before you need to sleep again."

Kit opened her mouth to ask, out of spite as much as desire. She shut it again and went back to her hair.

"It is not unusual for a society to make decisions about what it will and will not allow," Forerunner continued. "Mara has done this, just as the ancient civilization that created you. But here, justice is not a list of punishments—it is a product of extant conditions. There is less altering it than you might fear. Did the humans of your day care about their fellows? Did they take risks to protect the ones they loved, and join their efforts together to achieve what they could not alone? From these, all else follows."

Kit grinned back at her reflection, then tugged the oversized shirt higher on her chest. "I'm still human?" she asked. She turned to one side, running her fingers through the oversized tail. Liberating it from the shirt meant she would probably have to change, or at least find some shorts. She couldn't keep it held down all the time—the tail was far less obedient than Kit. "All these other people are human too? Even with all the animal bits?"

"Superficial," Forerunner answered. "Your kind have changed themselves far more to survive on their hostile new homes. Perhaps you should be grateful the founders of Mara elected for domes and burrows. You might not recognize your reflection otherwise."

This was good enough—as good as she could get her hair without better tools, anyway.

"This... ideal society of yours..." she continued. "Means I stop investigating? Let you keep doing whatever you want? Don't talk to Maddie or anyone else about it?"

More laughter. "Talk to anyone you want. The engineer will be asleep for three more days—however, Sadie is with Pat and Emma in the climbing course. Sadie has studied the implications of Institute templates since waking up in one. And if you want to know more about your body, Emma is the only source available—besides inquiring with me directly. You have not met Pat yet, but I think you two will get along. You have similar tastes in entertainment."

Kit knew that AI was exercising an unhealthy control over the lives of its citizens—and here it was, guiding her investigation. Maybe it didn't have to hurt her or send her to whatever waited down in Remedial. Forerunner already knew its citizens.

It knew, for example, how exciting that climbing course looked through the clear divider. So many floors, so many interesting ways to navigate them—and with such low gravity, the Institute needed barely any safety equipment.

The door opened, along with the closet. Lights illuminated a single shelf. Forerunner had even picked her an outfit, a leotard and pair of shorts to wear on top. They even had little acorn designs in gold thread...

She was so completely captivated by the prospect that Kit hardly noticed Jay standing by the door, on her side of the room. He had the decency to blush, looking away. He shuffled a few steps towards his side.

"Listening to me?"

He nodded, without looking up. "I knew you were... smart, I mean. Everyone here is."

She shrugged. "I guess. Not like the rest of you. Just... had some disagreements with Forerunner. Still do."

"Did you hate your Forerunner too? Where you came from."

"Hate?"

Her tail drooped along with her ears. "I don't know him well enough to..." The past she came from had no machines close enough to human beings that she could even consider feeling so strongly toward them.

She hurried into the closet. She shut it most of the way, but left the door cracked enough to talk to him without getting muffled. "I don't hate Forerunner. But I think he has too much control. There was no such thing as Forerunner where I came from. Lots of little computers, all smart in their own ways. Nothing like him."

Jay stuck his head through the door, either not noticing or not caring. That annoyed her, but not enough to ask him to leave. She had a climbing course to get to, after all. "No way. You couldn't have a civilization without a governing persona. Without it, there would be... no one to run things."

"We ran things," she said. "You and me and everyone. Our director didn't throw sleepovers."

"Oh!" Jay relaxed. "You don't think all of Mara works like the Institute, do you?" He turned to one side, swinging his tail so it struck up against her leg. "Out there, we weren't... like this. Small. Animals. Small animals. We were... grown. Most of us went a whole lifetime. And when we died, we got scanned. Then we woke up here."

She wiggled the shorts on, then pushed past him. No point trying to find socks, no one wore those anyway. "So?"

"So, deciding what to do... that's for them. The big people outside. They do... old things. And we do smart things. We send the smart things out, and they send more smart people in. Forerunner doesn't take care of everyone like he does with us. We're just... special. You, and me, and every other citizen."

Kit hadn't considered that—but now that he said it, she didn't feel very smart at all.

Whatever her growing discontent with the Institute, all of it came from citizens whose life decisions were made by Forerunner instead of themselves. Her mistake was to see the Institute of Perpetual Luminescence as the whole civilization. Just because she didn't get to leave didn't mean nothing else existed.

An AI can't explain why they built this place. But maybe the adults could. That was good—a goal, and a direction for her to go to reach it. And if it failed, she could still go with Forerunner's suggestion.

"I'm going climbing," Kit said. She scanned the room, then found the little shoulder bag Forerunner gave her and slipped it on. Microphones or not, she might want to take notes at some point, or stay accessible for friendly members of the base to find her. "You wanna come?"

Jay took an immediate step back. "No thanks. Climbing... not really my thing. You have fun though! You probably will. Lots of people like the course."

"You should leave now, Kit," Forerunner added, as though he had been there for the whole conversation, as a welcome friend instead of an obvious intruder. "If you want to meet the others there, this is your opportunity. Your new friends will arrive soon. They may not stay for long if you delay."

Even now, while the machine knew Kit was unhappy with the way it did things, it was still giving her advice.

If Forerunner was trying to win her over with propaganda, it had picked a pretty clever method for itself. If it kept acting so cooperative and friendly...

"Sure you don't wanna come?" She backed away, stopping near the door. It opened for her, expectant. "Maybe you'd have fun."

He giggled. "Kit, only the engineering foxes have been here longer than me. I've tried everything. I'm happy to work—here, in my room. Alone." He settled into his chair, which spun slightly to face her. "Or with you. If you want to work in here. It's your room too."

Kit slipped out into the hall. Jay had been kind. The last thing she wanted was to lose a new friend. She needed every ally she could get, even if the mouse was a little boring.