I Fell From The Dark

24

The main street was broader, and the buildings were grander. They had faux stone fronts, made of moulded, painted concrete, and were surrounded by black railings. Everything was grey in the early morning sun. It didn't seem to have risen at all since they had been up, and hung, just below the horizon, staining the western sky red.

A few low vehicles made their way along the streets, transporting cargo or makers. Some were driven by workers, who had to make do with a low wind shield as their only protection from collision, whereas the makers were safely cocooned in metal and glass.

The makers were all dressed like Victorian gentry, in hats and monocles and suits. Mia passed a pair of female makers who carried parasols. They laughed about something, a gentle tinkling which was incongruous against the studied neutrality of the workers and the grim focus of the male makers.

A slow, lazy breeze blew from the south. It carried dust which stung Mia's hands and whirled around in vortices. A number of makers wore googles, presumably to keep the stuff out of their eyes.

'This was all built in twelve years?' Mia asked.

'Yes,' Jean replied. 'It's amazing, isn't it? I remember this being mostly building sites.'

A roar filled her ears, just like when she was in the warehouse. She stopped and turned around to see a rocket lazily climbing behind her, a spike mounted on a growing column of smoke.

'The launches are getting more frequent. It'll be just us soon,' Jean said. 'Come on. We don't have all day.'

They crossed a few streets. At one point they had to stop for a vehicle when it screamed round a corner and then barrelled past. The maker driver blared its horn and didn't wait for workers to get out of the way; a man had to fling himself down to the road to avoid being knocked over. He got up, dusted himself down, and kept walking as if nothing had happened. The other workers did nothing.

'You've been here a while?' Mia asked, more to fill the uncomfortable silence than because she wanted to know.

'Yes. Ten years. All my life. Here we are.'

They'd reached a small flight of steps outside a great brick and plaster building, larger than any of the others around it. It had grand windows, and gargoyles, and a portico which covered a great arched doorway. Picked out in gold was the words 'The Imperial Institute.'

'Pilgrim contacted a place that she called the Institute,' she said, as they walked through the open door.

A security guard worker glanced up, saw Jean, and then waved them both through. Jean nodded.

'Yes,' Jean said. 'It's the name of the colonisation program. Its full name was originally "The Imperial Institute for the Expansion of the Human Race." But it's been called the Institute for so long that it's become its official name.'

'She said it had been around for hundreds of years.'

'It has.'

The hall was decorated with dark wood panels and plum wallpaper, and its floor was covered with a red and gold carpet. Forbidding portraits of makers glowered down at them from the walls, all wearing suits and tall hats. When one of them blinked, Mia jumped; but then she realised that they were screens in gilded picture frames, rendered like oil paintings.

'This way,' Jean said.

They went through a low side door, and emerged on a bare concrete staircase. Familiar blue stencils covered the walls.

'So this is a worker staircase,' Mia hazarded.

Jean said nothing, and led her up in silence. Two floors later, they walked down a narrow corridor, and Jean led her into a room. In the centre was a chair with straps and cables.

'Oh, I have had enough of those,' Mia said.

'It's just so you don't injure yourself if you have a fit,' Jean said, loosening the straps.

'Oh, damn. You're serious, aren't you?'

'Absolutely. I promise it won't hurt, though. Hey, one thing though: you keep talking about that AI as "her." Don't. Makers don't gender AIs, so we don't either.'

She sat in the chair, and he strapped her legs in.

'Seriously? Does it matter?'

He didn't look up as he worked.

'Yes, it does. The makers aren't sure that AIs like that ship AI are sentient, and so they get called "it." There's a general consensus that we are sentient, however. But we like to keep a distance; so whenever you call an AI "her" you make it just that little more likely that the makers will start treating us more like things.'

Mia digested this. 'Jesus.'

Jean looked up, shocked.

'Never say that!' he hissed. 'We aren't allowed to worship!'

'Woah. Okay. I... Okay.'

He strapped her in silently. When he'd finished, he looked up.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I know you didn't know. It's just... you need to know the rules. They won't permit us to worship because it implies we might have souls. I'll tell you the rest later. First, let's get this out of you. And, again, I'm sorry: there'll be some more dreams, I imagine. Ready?'

She nodded.

He put the tongue guard in, and then walked to a machine, and tapped a button.