I make it back to the shop and slip back in the way I left. Melanie is sitting there, messing with an image that seems projected from her left hand. She taps her left hand with her right hand, and the image disappears.

“What was that?” I ask.

“A holophone. Mr. McNeil paid for me to get a Serenade implant holophone.” She spoke as if this was a common knowledge thing.

“And what is that?” I can’t help asking. It’s almost like she’s speaking a foreign language. I search my memory for an image like what I just saw. I see it a couple times, mostly from guard memories, and all they knew was that it was some new expensive, and slightly controversial device that made carrying around a physical computer irrelevant.

And I barely know what a computer is. I can see the guards in my memories using these devices they call computer, but the disconnect of the stripped memories leaves me with no real understanding of what any of this is. I think I would need someone to walk me threw using one of these devices to understand them.

Another memory links to the shuttle and the fact that the shuttle is controlled by a computer. The boards are also controlled by computers says another memory of a girl as a child, with her mother explaining computer. A device to calculate and do things for humans seems to be the best definition.

“…can’t believe you haven’t at least heard of a holophone. All I have to do is press a button on my non-dominant hand, and I can access a tablet like screen project from a tiny projector wired into my hand. Phone calls are passed through a mike implanted in my cheek so I don’t even need to hold or wear anything to talk on the phone. You should talk to Patrick about getting one. I receive my work for the day on the task function.”

I don’t think I have heard Melanie speak this animatedly about anything before. She seems obsessed with this holophone thing.

“…dream as a child to work on developing human embedded technology, but then all the controversy caused it to be forgotten for a while. Of course, It wasn’t really possible anyway since I was kicked out when I turned 18 and I didn’t even get to finish high school before needing to find a job to afford living. I was so excited…”

I’m not quite sure how she got from telling me what this holophone thing was to talking about her life. I always thought that she was just a silent person who didn’t like to talk. Apparently all she needed was something to get her started.

“…imagine that some people don’t even understand what a computer is in this day and age when everyone is surrounded by them…”

I don’t even know what she is ranting about anymore. It sounds like she is insulting my knowledge of computers. How could I understand these devices when all my memories are stolen? From what I can see though, it seems like the Xatron, my machine form, is one of these computer device things. Does this mean that I am a computer? Are my thoughts those of a computers’? In the memories Ray called a computer that has human intelligence an AI, whatever that means. Does this mean that I am an AI linked to a human body?

I don’t have enough data to figure this out. It is strange enough to think that my mind is linked to a gray box sitting in a room in the city’s jail.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I finish changing into a skirt, top, and highly uncomfortable heels that Melanie had waiting for me, and slip back into the store leaving Melanie still rambling on about something or another. A male store clerk with short gray hair and the schooled expression of an unhappy dog, is holding a pile of suits.

“I think we are finished shopping.” Melanie says from behind me.

I nod like an impetuous partisan class politician and walk toward the door. Last time we went shopping I stood there like a dumb golden retriever while Melanie checked out. Melanie informed me that it wasn’t right for me to wait in the store, so this time I knew better than to stand there and follower her around.

The shuttle we used to go shopping is the same fancy contraption that I went to the ball in. The seats are comfortable, and I don’t mind sitting down and waiting for Melanie.

Am I an AI? I search my memories trying to figure out what this term means. Whoever built the Xatron, me, didn’t think to give me any extra knowledge banks. All I have are the images from memories stripped of their power. But maybe my basic knowledge of language is a knowledge bank and I just don’t realize it.

I guess a good question, one I haven’t thought about since we left the jail, is am I the Xatron? Is that gray box where my thoughts originate from and this body is just an avatar, or am I the same person, Lily, and my mind simply filled in the space of the gray box and allowed me to become one with it?

The better question is why am I even thinking about this. I should just accept my power and accept whatever it is that I am and stop questioning life.

Life… I can see the busy street outside the dark window of my shuttle. People shuffling about, not even noticing the expensive shuttle idling in front of one of the rich stores. The go on about their way. Some glance over, but their gaze skirts off as if they are embarrassed to be caught staring at the shuttle.

Signs move on the side of buildings showing people smiling. On I recognize as Raymond McNeil, Patrick’s father. It must be some sort of political propaganda sign. Are these moving images also run by a computer? Like my brain.

I don’t know that for certain. I don’t exactly know how the Xatron and I are connected, we are just one. Human body and machine body with one mind. I search again through my stolen memories, looking for something more that can explain it to me.

The door of the shuttle opens filling it with noise for a second as Melanie slides in, and then it closes shutting out the world.

Melanie carefully hangs the suits in her arms on a hook and sits down as the shuttle takes off.

“So, have you thought about what you are going to say to the politicians? You should write a speech and have Mr. McNeil read it over. He is a good speaker and can probably help you edit it some.” Melanie is back to her normal, emotionless voice, but I notice that it is restrained emotion, not missing emotion. And she is talking to me. Did I do something to make her change her mind about me?

“Umm, I was just planning on speaking from the heart. You know, saying just what I thought.”

Melanie shakes her head. “No, that will just get you laughed at and thrown out,” her tone is gentle now, soft like a suede.

“Why do you think that will get me thrown out?”

“I’ve seen it before. Azalea takes me with her when she goes to watch discussions that interest her.” Her voice is quiet now. Almost sad, and her eyes are staring at her hands twisted in her lap.

“What do you think will happen to me if I fail?”

She looks up, her face completely blank, and her monotonous voice back, “You will most definitely be thrown back on the streets if you fail.”

Patrick was certain I would take his memories. If I failed, I was at the top currently. I could still bring down the system from the top. It wasn’t that terrible an idea.

Nathan said I needed a plan. Plan A, write a speech, present before the politicians, the politicians start working for the city. Plan B, I take Patrick’s memories and the rest of his family’s memories. Take over the council or whatever they are called, kill or steal their memories, force change to the laws, and then offer myself as a candidate to run the city to the people, but allow them to vote on someone to run the city that is not from the politician class. Or something like that. Plan B would be a little more impromptu than Plan A.

I smile at Melanie. “Then it looks like I best not fail.”