Core Drive: A Westworld Story

Reverie 2015-O: Joy

Joy's heel jutted as she waited for the upload to finish.

Had she made a mistake in choosing Áine? She didn't even bother to run any preliminary diagnostic tests to see if the software was compatible. What would she do if the code got corrupted mid-upload?

Everything seemed to hit her all at once, and like a pressure cooker with an unseen crack, she was nearing her breaking point.

Arnold walked in, cleaning his glasses with his handkerchief, clearing his throat absentmindedly. She could have sworn she heard him mutter something about Theresa under his breath.

Joy took that as an invitation to speak, to find an outlet for her frustrations—and possibly open up the possibility for Arnold to do the same.

"Give Robert a good talking to?" she turned to face Arnold, who had stopped dead in his tracks, surprised to see her. He hadn't expected her to remain in the lab.

His stance eased up as he put his glasses back on, "After a fashion. He's dealing with his own shit. Albeit, not well."

"I can't fucking believe those two. Was it too much to hope they'd play nice?"

"Your current fling and your ex in the same room? What did you expect, Joy? You thought they'd roll over, show their bellies and pretend to like one another?"

Joy scrunched her face at the odd analogy, fighting back a bemused smile. Theresa was right about his tendency to try and diffuse a situation by making light of it. It was endearing now, welcomed even, but if it were Logan doing the same thing, it'd drive her crazy, too.

"Yes!" she answered as if it were the obvious response. "Or at least, they'd act like adults, not... whatever that was."

"You mean a pissing contest between men who are used to putting on airs?" he laughed, nearly inaudible next to the low thrum of the machines.

Joy didn't make anything of his reaction. The events of the day simply kept replaying. Each repeat changed slightly, adjusting to show possible scenarios where the day didn't end with Logan storming off.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" she asked abruptly. When Arnold didn't reply immediately, she took it as a sign of confusion, or hesitation, perhaps. "Earlier, when they were going head-to-head, the first thing I said to pacify the situation was Robert's name—but you know how he is, how he can fixate... Maybe if I'd said Logan's name instead—or if I'd taken his side—or if I'd just mentioned Áine and explained what she is... I don't know." She let out a grunt of frustration, "I don't know!" She pressed her palms to her eyes and leaned back, feeling exhausted, "Did I say the wrong thing?"

Arnold chuckled, "I've been down that very same spiral, more often lately. The conclusion I've come to is: there is no right thing to say in such matters, there's only a long list of things not to say."

She never expected to hear such an answer from Arnold, of all people. A year ago, she'd have sworn his answer would be all about communication being key. Time, it seems, changes all things. Even those she thought would be impervious to its effects. Even someone as upstanding as Arnold.

"Isn't that deceitful?" she arched her brow in his direction.

He did something close to a shrug, more of an exhale and slouching motion, "Why? Because love, marriage and any other banner between partners can only survive with the truth?" That felt personal, like him lashing out, but not at her, more at himself—more at the expectation the world seemed to have over him. "If you ask me, that sentiment is the lie," he sighed, glancing over at the hosts on the chairs. His eyes fell to Áine. No doubt some of Theresa was in her; because some of Theresa showed on Joy's face as well. Then he glanced over at his reflection on one of the glass walls.