"They have left the trackable range, Mother," FABIAN says.
"And such is the extent of my curiosity," I reply. "Unfortunate, but I must accept."
"If you so believe, then it will so be."
"Beliefs are at least partially grounded in reality, no?"
"You cannot read her mind."
"And perhaps she is not clear what she's thinking either," I mutter, emerging from the bed.
"Is everything alright?" The Golden Boy next to me mutters, stretching.
"Yes, young man," I smile, running my hand across his chest. "Just a lively conversation with my subordinates."
He grins back. "Okay."
"What would you like for breakfast?"
"Anything. Surprise me."
"Would you like to eat in bed?"
"Nah, I'll be at the table."
"See you there," I chuckle, while rising from the bed and slipping into my robe. An iota of discipline, how dandy.
I check my FAB-30s in my forearm bays. Clean and sharp as always.
A spy would want to listen in on my conversation, but a spy could also have other surveillance throughout the parameter.
~~
The chef hurries in with two platters of steaming Corsus pancakes, 3 per with sliced melon, berries, and cheese drizzled lightly in a chocolate syrup.
"Here at once, Mother," a different chef, wiping sweat from under her short black hair.
"No need to rush, thank you," I nod humbly. "You're doing a good job, here," I motion my wrist over hers to initiate a transfer of 50HeD as a tip.
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She nervously smiles. "Oh, thank you, Mother!"
"You indeed earned it," I gesture my hand to showcase her work.
Adrian cuts a section of the pancake. "Wow, chewy, I like it."
"Anything else you'd like?" I cut into my own.
"Something salty and protein-ey, some meatloaf, perhaps."
"Chef," I call. "Bring this gentleman some Salisbury, 100 grams. Brandy sauce. Thank you."
"Yes, Mother!" she closes the door.
A pause.
"All is well, I am satisfied with my meal, unless there's anything else you'd like from me, I have some matters to attend to, I bid adieu and wish you to take care.”
"Thank you for the lovely evening and morning," he nods humbly.
I return to my wardrobe for the orange dress. Fits the occasion, and that's all I need. I spin once more to re-examine.
"Sunny," I mutter. "Fiery."
The automatic door slides open, and right as I exit the room, I just short of collide with the chef again.
"I'm so sorry Mother, we are in complete shortage of Jackal filets for the dish requested, would you like anything else?"
~~
Honoko’s laboratory is calmly humming along, with technicians in their sealed outfits scattering about like ants.
“This place of yours could use some décor, dare I respectfully suggest?” I glance over at the bland, white-teal light strips lining the cabinets and countertops.
Her heels clack against the tiled floor as she advances towards me, adjusting her glasses, swiping away the noisy streams of data blitzing past her lenses. “I believe that would serve as a mere distraction,” the Doctor responds. “Good morning, Mother,”
“As to you,” I tip my head. “No hurry, but humor my curiosity– do you have any long term ideas for Ms. Aldero?”
“Hmm,” she calmly sighs, “Augmentations at this age are a bit of a waste, she is just at the tail end of puberty, and it seems like a repair of something that isn’t broken,” Dr. Honoko reports.
“Fair enough. Her career would likely change by then, even if she outlasts Kruger, she likely wouldn’t have aged enough to even desire the cybernetics.” I lament, turning back to her. “Unfortunately, we both know our N of 1 has already departed at the age of 26.”
“I agree. Perhaps we could offer it as a part of a retirement package, decades down the road, however–”
“...lofty promises, indeed,” I look towards the whiteboard and Cynthia’s body analysis as she soundly rests in the stasis chamber, covered in wires, nodes, and tubes. “I’d imagine the trust between all parties involved would erode quickly even with all optimism.”
“All things, beautiful or ugly, have a shelf life, after all.”
“Indeed, Mother.”