The Director took him to some breakfast place before heading to Engineering. He didn’t mind, and the coffee brought some senses back to him that he hadn’t realized had been missing. It wasn’t particularly eventful, and although he wasn’t really too interested in conversation, Thomas noticed that even if he’d tried to spark one up, it would’ve been a little awkward after noticing that the pair had been trailed by what seemed to be a team of guards, blending into crowds and tables so well that he’d have never noticed if it hadn’t been for one of them giving him a wink and a knowing smile, after he’d caught himself staring off into nowhere while taking a sip of his cup. If the lack of privacy bothered her as much as he thought it’d bother him, the Director didn’t show it, instead opting to make so many calls that the Doctor had lost track of after the first few.

It didn’t take long for the caffeine to take effect, making him remember that it wasn’t really his place to talk about privacy, given the fact that he could feel an AI in the back of his mind, figuratively sharing the living space that was his brain with him. Chell was originally supposed to be a simple piece of software, connecting his prosthetic to his thoughts. Brains were, to his surprise (well, not really, but still…), far more complex than hardware, and his approximation of a ‘driver’ for an organic computer ended up growing in and through his mind, learning from the thoughts it was supposed to interpret into commands, and eventually developing an identity, different from his own. It started with thoughts he’d been sure he wouldn’t have, intrusive yet brilliant ideas would surge from unknown depths of his psyche, and for some time he was certain that he was developing a mental illness of some kind. There was a whole lot of bad before Chell ever spoke directly as a separate intelligence, but eventually she did, and his life turned into something far more interesting than he’d ever imagined possible.

Thomas’s work had always been decent, he acknowledged, but as a freelance contractor with little to no contacts, his talents limited themselves to personal projects and small jobs that were otherwise drowned out in the sea of innovation whose tide rose exponentially. A smart man with knowledge in a couple fields, sure, but one with little drive to stand out, perfectly content in helping progress in his own, small way. But creating a real Artificial Intelligence, one with full sapience, accidental as it may be, was most definitely not one of those ‘small jobs’ he’d been used to making, and as if it hadn’t been enough that the paper he published on her got recognition beyond anything he’d ever seen before, Chell’s presence in his mind changed him in ways that were incredibly hard to describe. She was, by design, smarter than him, or any other human in existence for that matter, but she was also part of him, and since the space between organic and synthetic had been bridged between the two, just as she could learn and process sentience like a human through his mind, he could tap into her brilliance, think, and calculate like a computer through hers. It was a symbiotic relationship between the two that not only quickly bonded them, but also rocketed them into overnight popularity. And although it was exhausting, he did admit that it all got him a spot in the Lunacy program, enabling him to live out a dream any child looking at the stars would have. And it's not like she hadn't gotten anything out of it, after all, at the heart of the ship, connected to every single system running on the Lunacy, was an extension to her core, the latest of its kind. It was a state of the art processor, that allowed for some computing on quantum scales that eluded even him, all for herself (at the low, low price of acting as the 'Ship AI,' the position she'd taken in tandem with his place as Head of Health and Development.) He made a mental note to ask her what the new boost felt like, once he got back to his apart-

"-Doctor Bowdich?"

Huh. When had the Director stood up?

"Are you certain you’re okay, Doctor?" she raised a brow. "This is the second time you’ve lost track of your surroundings."

He stood up, dismissively waving a hand. "No, don’t worry. I’m just a little tired, it happens."

She studied him for a second, and he once again felt like he was being scrutinized by someone higher than himself, something akin to a teacher looking for a reason to scold a student, then spoke.

"Very well, then." a shrug. "If you say so."

----------------------------------------

Thomas didn’t think much of the man heading the Engineering department. Emil wasn’t a bad person, he didn’t think so at least, but the engineer just rubbed him the wrong way. Laid back- in a bad way- and with a particularly cheap brand of faux friendliness that’d peel off whenever any trouble went the man’s way. The kind of person who'd pile work on you, say something like "Let's have a meeting about this project tomorrow at 4," then arrive at 6, too late to help with anything but the end of the work, with a different excuse each time, and a smile plastered on his face to try to lull you into a sense of friendship, false as it may be.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Viveza Criolla," he'd called it, something from his hometown. That in and of itself was another excuse, and it annoyed Thomas to no end. So it wasn’t surprising that, when the Director and himself walked into the engine room, time slowed down from the Doctor’s eyes, and his gaze became calculative, as if looking for something suspicious.

Scrambling hands along the worn down metal workspace.

Lethargic eyes, frantically widening when met with a pair of authoritative gazes.

The tail-end of a yawn, quickly replaced with a sheepish smile.

A wet spot on the corner of the engineer’s mouth.

A small puddle next to some crumpled up blueprints on the desk.

And a soldering pen, still plugged in, smoking from a now oxidized tip.

Interesting.

"Ah-!” the engineer stood up, and began to lazily scratch the side of his short and messy dark brown hair. "-To what do I owe the pleasure, you two?”

"Good morning, Santino."

"Director, please!" the man called out, walking over to a corner of the machinery-cramped space to get a chair. "It's Emil to you."

The Director took the chair from his hands and carefully took a seat as the engineer did the same, leaving Thomas standing in the back with a lost expression, focused on something else.

"Santino, I'm here to speak to you about the recent hull tremors." she crossed her legs, and leaned back with an annoyed expression. "It's beginning to cause complaints from every sector."

"Ahhh!" he laughed. "Yes, yes, the damn 'quakes," Emil leaned in. "I was actually working on fixing that before you came!"

Thomas felt a thought spark up, not his, but it was gone as soon as it appeared, and he couldn't make it out.

The engineer wiped his sleeve on the desk as his hand trailed to the side, picking up the soldering pen and impressively twirling it around into position, skin somehow avoiding hot metal. "See, the ship AI wanted me to add a circuit of some kind into the diagnostic chamber before swapping the coils, gave me a blueprint to make it and everything." he pointed to some papers, then continued. "We talked, and it said-"

"She."

Emil paused, awkwardly silent for a split second, expression indescribable. He looked over to the source of the interruption, Thomas, paused, nodded, then turned back to the Director, and went on. "-and she said that the circuit'll warn us next time the coils need replacin' before it's an issue. Ain't that cool? That'll save us the trouble of running off schedule next time!"

The Director didn't seem too interested in the mechanics of the engine. "I'm asking you when it'll be ready, Santino."

"Uh..." his hand instinctively went behind his neck, looking for something to scratch in nervousness. "Well, I think I can have it done by today."

"Good." she stood up. "We can take our leave then."

And so, the engineer was left alone, half-dazed, and dreading the piled up work for the day.

----------------------------------------

Thomas looked out the cab window, admiring the flight view of the upper parts of the city. He covered a yawn, day and a half of sleep deprivation showing, and looked over to the Director, a thought popping up in his mind. "Why'd you bring me there, really?"

The Director, without even breaking her gaze out her window to look at him, replied without much attention. "So that you know how to deal with him next time, without having to get me to do it for you."

"Ah."

Silence filled the cab, save for the light buzz of the air conditioning, and the infrequent bumps of turbulence in the air.

Thomas spoke up again. "He lied."

"I know, he was asleep. We woke him up."

"Yes, but he lied about something else, too."

The Director turned to him, prompting him to continue.

"That 'circuit' was supposed to be implemented weeks ago. To prevent the coils from wearing out."

For the first time, Thomas saw the Director show an inkling of expressiveness. She sighed, in a mixture of exhaustion and exasperation.

"He's lucky he's good at his job, when he does it."