Rose glanced out of the window of the vehicle, watching as the air rushed by and her companions disappeared below. The ride was smooth, feeling as if the wheels, though now pulled in, rode upon a straight line even while they continued to ascend. In short time, they reached the first layer of flying cars, riding above houses and streets, winding between skyscrapers that gleamed the midday’s light. The homunculus looked up to see a second layer of motors, wheels tucked, and above even those a layer of drones and other flying contraptions that Rose thought likely did not carry people, but rather packages and items.

‘A hierarchy of flight. The ground, two layers of populace vehicles at about 100 meters for motors and 250 meters respectively, and a third above even that for miscellaneous vehicles,’ Rose estimated as her golden eyes wandered. It was a sight where there was always space for travel and little traffic, even below she could see teenagers riding upon hoverboards. Eyes squinted at steps that led further underground, she realized that trains existed as well, making a total of 4 layers of travel within the city.

“It can be an interesting sight when one first enters Alos,” The voice of her creator drew her from the left, “Any legal vehicle in the air is running on automatic algorithms, connected to a central network within the City Core that makes sure everything runs smoothly, efficiently, and with as little accidents as possible.”

Rose turned to see the beautiful face of that elven woman grinning in pride.

“I have you know I actually had a bit of a hand in updating some aspects of the coding, most significantly the intelligence of the network and its speed optimization,” the Silent Witch said.

Rose silently acknowledged that the woman was clearly skilled. Well, though she was sure her creator was ages beyond ages, in her eyes, she appeared as an ageless beauty who looked no older than 23 or 24 or so. She sat there, hands long having left the steering wheel, screen floating before her.

Rose nodded at her.

“I see. You’re quite skilled,” She said, turning to face the front

The woman relaxed into her seat, watching the scenery pass them by as well. There was silence between them for a moment, but Rose’s creator broke the meaning of her name.

“It was either I be skilled or watch the world crush me. Us. It was really more due to struggling than any sort of thing like intelligence or luck,” She spoke softly, eyes squinted ahead, voice dry but fraught with tiredness. A tiredness Rose thought she recognized as similar to that of Maria’s last wish to be killed. Of course, this person that created her was still very much alive, struggling as she placed it.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Struggling? For what?” She asked.

The silent witch, Bianca Idris Blake, sat up and smiled at her.

“You’re awfully calm, arent you? Even with me here next to you?”

Rose tilted her head, “Should I not be?”

The woman shrugged. “Would creations not quiver before their creator with nervousness? If I was to meet Fate, I assure you I would quiver.”

“I have no idea who this ‘Fate’ is but I’ll say I rather like my feet planted on a steady ground than one which shakes,” Rose replied.

She spoke neither a lie nor a truth.

She wasn’t calm. How could she be when she was sitting, chatting, with the person that made and birthed her into this world? Why was she created? Were there others like her? What did the future hold? There was no way she could be calm. Yet, at the same time, none of her anxiousness showed.

She was well aware she appeared relaxed only because she swirled with too many thoughts, questions, and emotions to display on one face. She supposed, whether she liked it or not, her default look would perpetually be a blank slate. Was it her personality or was it simply a natural result of her being a homunculus that had just trekked through the slums? Hiding it all just as she hid from the world around her?

She stared at the face of her creator and the person looked back. Then, that figure laughed, breaking her image of them.

“That’s—” Bianca continued a sort of exciting laughter that didn’t match the proper stature she gave off. “That’s a rather pragmatic way to put it I suppose. . .but look.”

She pointed and Rose followed her finger and her smile.

“We’re here.”

The car broke through a sudden barrier and her world turned blue for the splitting of a moment. Then, everything blurred back into focus and colors filled her vision.

“Wha—what. . .?” Rose found herself shocked.

A pristine, clear, river flowed gently through the left of an endless green scenery. Then there was a massive villa, larger than even Paul Walker’s quarters, standing amidst a sea of flowers of any color a person could dream up. The chirps of birds resounded as the windows of the vehicle rolled down, and Rose found herself able to hear even the distant running waters.

The car descended until it touched a road of stone, wheels popping out to make contact, and Bianca held the steering wheel back with a green, beginning her drive through the winding road leading up to the villa.

“Save for the flowers, everything else is digital. A fake creation masquerading as real,” She said to her creation, “From the river to the country sounds blocking off the city’s reach, it’s all merely a fake.”

Rose raised an eyebrow at those words.

“It’s a bit interesting, don’t you think?” Bianca asked as the vehicle pulled into the half-circle parking lot and stopped. “Say, what do you think?”

Rose narrowed her eyes.

“I like it as it is, fake or not,” She muttered.

Bianca laughed as the doors to the motor rose into the air.

“Well then, let’s move along.”