“Nope,” Serpint says. “This place. It’s not what you think.”
“How do you know what I think it is?”
“Because I do. I’ve been all over the galaxy, Lyra. And no matter where I am or who I’m talking to, if they’re not from here they all have the same opinion about Harem Station. The second people learn who I am and where I come from, they get a look on their face.”
“What look?”
“The look you had yesterday when you tried to spit on me.”
I inhale deeply, then let it out. “Sorry about that. I was… afraid. And wound up. And not here because I wanted to be here.”
He shrugs. “I don’t let it get to me. Any more,” he adds. “They see what they want to see and that’s just fine by me. But everyone who lives here, or stops by on their way through the gates between jobs…” He shrugs again. “They get me. And I get them. We’re all the same on Harem. Just trying to stay alive in a really fucked-up, dangerous world.”
“Hmm,” I say.
“Hmm, what?”
“Well…” I laugh a little. “You make it sound like… you know. You’re not all a bunch of outlaws on the run from the Prime Navy.”
“People are people,” he says. “Doesn’t really matter what side of Prime you’re on. Because those guys? The ones who run shit? They’re no different than us, Lyra. They just make the laws that suit them, that’s all. They steal and kill too. Just like us. They just call it appropriation and war instead of what it really is. Everyone’s an outlaw, it’s just we’re the ones on the wrong side of popular opinion.”
“So you fancy yourselves revolutionaries?” I ask, kinda finding it ridiculous. “I mean, I get what you’re saying, because I come from a horrible, oppressive society. Make no mistake, the Cygnians are not good people. But I’m not naive enough to think that there’s no difference between law and lawlessness.”
“We have laws here,” he says. “How do you think we get two million people to live together?”
“The hostess has a plasma rifle strapped to her back, Serpint.”
“Yeah, but she showed us to our table, she didn’t pull it out and try to rob us. If she ever does pull that rifle off her back to use it here, she better have a damn good reason. Because ALCOR will strike her down with one blast. Everyone knows what happens if they don’t try to work shit out without killing. Of course, murder happens. We have a police force here and many murders. Just like any city. But ALCOR makes all the difference. He sees and hears everything.”
ALCOR. Where the hell did that thing come from, I wonder? I’ve seen my share of sentient AIs but none of them are in charge of things like this one seems to be.
It’s kinda scary, if you ask me. Letting a machine have so much power.
“Are you ready to order?”
I look up and find a waitress holding a tablet. She’s got bright purple hair and her whole body is covered in metallic scales.
“Umm,” I say, then point to the menu. “I’ll have this?” I say, showing her the menu item.
Serpint laughs a little.
“What?” I ask.
“That’s what the stupid bot told you to get.”
“Well, is it bad?”
“No,” he says, taking my menu and handing it to the waitress. “I’ll have the same.”
“Be right up,” the waitress says. Then leaves.
I look around and realize there’s a lot of metallic people here.
“Armor,” Serpint says.
“Oh,” I say. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Makes them feel safe, ya know? Old habits.”
“Right.”
“So… you said you know about people like him.”
“Who?”
“The cyborg master,” Serpint says. “You said you know his kind. What’s that mean?”
“I told you, I just know.”
“OK,” he says, taking the hint. But he has a look on his face that tells me he’s not gonna let this go.
Luckily a tray bot appears with our food and its articulated grippy appendages place our plates on the table.
“Pancakes,” I say, laughing. “They’re pancakes.”
Serpint thanks the bot, then smiles at me. “Eat up, princess. You’re gonna need your energy once you meet my brothers.”
Hmmm. We’re on day two of this little… friendship? Relationship? Whatever it is. And I’m already meeting the family.
What a weird, fucked-up world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – SERPINT
I watch her as she eats breakfast. Pancakes. Not called pancakes here. But pancakes are pancakes and she likes them.
Knowing about her seems to be an unconscious priority for me. Something I still don’t understand. And even though last night was fun—hell, who am I kidding? It was mind-blowing—I’m a little worried about tonight. After the memorial service, after I introduce her to my brothers, after everyone has to go home and we’ll be alone…
I worry about that.
Because I do not understand what’s happening to me. Or her, for that matter.