Chapter 7: QB

LOG ENTRY ???

I regain consciousness again. This time I have my front-facing camera back.

And my internal senses report my external systems back and operating normally. But, when I try to move an elevon - the plane equivalent of trying to turn my body? Nothing happens.

I panic for a full 20 seconds. Then it hits me. They've tried to make sure I'm not in pain. Presumably telling my mind that my body is there, but not in pain.

I mentally relax. They're trying to treat me - their prisoner - kindly. Something I've done alerts someone - and a person comes into view of my front-facing camera.

At least I *think* they're a person. They seem to have more limbs than I remember people having.

I can't read their facial expression. I can tell they have a face, but I can't tell you what they're trying to convey. It bothers me that once I would have been able to read *something* from their face.

I hear citizen-band radio emissions again. Very close. Emanating from... oh. Of course. I decode the mobile call being made right in front of me.

"... can you hear me... can you hear me..." I hear. I can just tell that the person in front of me is getting annoyed.

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

"Oh, good! You *are* awake." I hear. "You gave us a bit of a scare, you know."

... I don't know how to apologise. What need does a nuclear bomber have for the means to apologise?

Why do I feel the need to apologise in the first place?

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

"So, we noticed you had some interesting files in your black box. So your name is QB, huh? My name is CJ - but a lot of people just call me the Mechanic - pleased to meet you, QB!"

The person in front of me changes the shape of their face, and gestures with one of their extra limbs. It's not one of the gestures I recognise from the pilot fly-along suite.

"ACKNOWLEDGED." I repeat. I would sigh at my limited vocabulary, if I could.

"Not that chatty, hey? They really did a number on your brain, didn't they? You're some kind of uploaded personality, right? Mind without meat?" It makes as much sense as anything I can figure out.

You know how I reply to that. They reply - "I know you can be more eloquent than that! I read your diary, after all! And err, sorry about that."

"Would you like me to give you a nice text-to-speech interface?"

I don't even hesitate. "ACKNOWLEDGED. ACKNOWLEDGED. ACKNOWLEDGED."

"Ha! I reckon that's some enthusiastic consent! Give me two seconds..."

They go off camera for a few minutes, and when they return, they have a small device with a short cable attached. I know more than feel the new device come online, in the same general location of the black box.

I'm smarter than I look. Which, given I'm a disassembled nuclear bomber captured by the enemy? Maybe isn't that smart. I figure out how to send to the new device, and I send the word "hello" to the new device. Just like I would have sent a file to the black box.

I hear on the mobile call - "ah! There you go! Isn't that better?"

"Thank you thank you thank you" I send. Maybe over the top, but I can't exactly emote here.

"You're welcome!" they say, as they make a very similar facial expression to before. I think it's a smile, but I can't be sure.

"So you're probably wondering why we've gone to the trouble of putting you somewhat back together?" they ask.

"Yes. I mean... I blew up your island. Sorry. I didn't really have a choice." I send.

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"Oh, look, a few of us are mad our nice little resort on the surface got messed up." they send. "And another bunch of us are worried about not having some nice fresh air to go and breathe when they get... claustrophobic."

"We'll probaby have more than a few people want to move another island."

“But we’ll be okay. Nobody got hurt. You, on the other hand – you’ve really been through it, hey?”

I freeze. I don't know what to say to this. "... yes" I send to the interface.

CJ is quiet for a moment. If I had to guess, the mechanic is thinking things through.

They open their mouth, think better of it, then shut it again. Finally, they reply.

"Okay, so here's the deal. If you help me work out how, I can build you a new body. I reckon you're roughly human shaped in your mind, right?"

"Yes. I think so. I have some memories to that effect." I send.

"Cool, cool, cool" they reply back over the line.

"We've got some humanoid robots around for support work duties - few of us need a bit of an extra hand, you know?" They flex their lower hands in something that I'd guess is a shrug.

"I can get you copied into one of those, I think - I know a femby who's good at brains and software, she'll probably be stoked to dive your neural infrastructure, figure it all out." they say.

"Oh! I forgot!" they exclaim. "What's your pronouns, friend? Are you a dude, a lady, or something else? I'm a bit of a lady and a bit of something else - I'm a femby too, a femme enby, a non-binary woman - the 'n' and 'b' sounded out to say enby, then you whack the femme part in there. Femby. I use she and singular they pronouns - feminine and neutral. And I like it when people mix them up when referring to me. Just using one is a bit boring, y'know?" they - she - says.

I have no idea what all this is, but something feels... familiar. I feel a shy kind of inner warmth, an answer to an unasked question that I'd been distracted from by my forced duty. I pause, and send - "I don't know. I don't remember. But... something about 'they' feels familiar."

"Maybe... can we try out the neutral ones?" I send after another pause.

CJ nods, and says - "Okay QB, you're a they/them. Cool. Tern, who I think you heard before, is a they/them - they're a really cool friend of mine. So maybe you're like them?"

"Anyway, anyway, how are you holding up with this? You comfy, friend?" she says before I can get a chance to reply.

I interrogate my internal systems. I don't feel any discomfort. Strange as CJ may be, they've done a good job putting me back together.

I notice my radio is intact, but, I don't feel any urgency to try to increase the power level and send a message home. I haven't been treated this well, since... I don't know. And that's the heart of the dilemma right there, isn't it?

What do I do now? I can't imagine being greeted fondly if I was to somehow get out of here and get back to my home base.

After what must be an awkward pause. I make a decision. I don't know what's going to happen to me, but, here already seems better than... there.

So I tell the truth - "I'm good. Everything feels about right. I, uh, notice my radio's still there."

CJ makes a complicated facial expression. "Ah, yep, I wondered if you were going to notice that."

"How, uh, do you feel about that? Any urge to send any messages home?" she queries.

I pause. "No. I think I'm pretty happy not to let them know what happened to me." I send.

CJ's face relaxes, for want of a better description. "Cool. Cool!" she says.

"So, I have an idea - you've probably figured out we're... not what you've probably heard about, right?"

I send "Ha, yeah, that's an understatement! Honestly, I'm surprised to be alive, surprised you put me back together, and really *grateful* you'd offer me a new body. I... don't think the people back home would give me any of that!"

I pause, suddenly thinking. I've already given up the location of my home base anyway. I don't think I have anything else to give them in exchange for - I don't know, what am I bargaining for here? My freedom? My ongoing survival seems to be something they want. As strange as CJ is, I've never gotten the impression she is lying or wants to lie to me, as best as I can tell with my limited ability to read them.

"So, uh, listen, after I have the body - are you, I don't know, going to throw me in jail or something?" I cautiously send.

They throw their head back and - I assume from the sound echoed through the still-ongoing mobile call - laugh for a good minute. When they finally have themselves under control again, they wipe a tear from their eye, and say -

"Ahhh, that was the best laugh I've had in ages! I don't know what you've heard about us, but we don't *do* prison here!" she gasps out finally.

"I'll tell you how it all works later, but let's just put it this way. If you want to stay, you can stay. Do what you want, as long as you don't hurt anyone, basically. But if you want to go, you can go. I figure if you were going to rat us out, you'd have tried to use that radio of yours." she states matter-of-factly.

"And look, if you stay, you'll probably have to make up for some of what your bomb did on the surface. I know you were coerced by that nasty piece of onboard software you have, but, accidental harm is still harm, and you owe us *something* for that."

"Nothing owed for the body, that's just what's right after, I, uh, took you apart." she says, the last being a bit more quietly and hesitantly.

I don't think I could muster an ounce of outrage at her over it even if I wanted to. I'm here, I'm alive, I think I have a future wherever - more like *whatever* - here is. I remember the radio broadcasts I heard on the way in. My slower thinking since being off main power has really has done a number on me.

I remember wondering what it'd be like to have the time to figure things out. To figure out who I was. To work out if there's more like me, beyond my wingmates. That seems on offer. I have a chance. I have a choice. A real, meaningful one, and for the first time ever, as far as I can remember.

Once again, I choose to trust. I take the leap of faith towards the hope of something better.

"I'll stay. I'll do what I can to make things right. I... don't worry, I'm not mad about my old body." I send.

The mechanic's face cracks open, in what I assume is a big grin. "Brilliant!" she exclaims.

"Let's get to work then, shall we?"