CA Chapter Twenty-one (Patreon)

Surprisingly, the only things waiting for Ava on the screen in her suite were two words. EAT SOMETHING. As she read them, she felt her stomach growl, and shook her head. The pod fulfilled her nutritional requirements, but she hadn’t actually eaten anything solid in over a week, and her body knew it.

Crossing to the half-size refrigerator, Ava pulled out a TV dinner. She poked holes in the plastic, then popped it into the microwave. Honestly, she’d rather eat something fresh, but not only was she not much of a cook, but she couldn’t keep fresh fruits and vegetables around when she was going to be away for a week or two at a time. Even the milk she’d bought when she moved in was pushing its expiration date.

When the microwave beeped, she pulled out the meal and gingerly peeled back the plastic, allowing the scent of turkey and gravy to escape. She knew she should wait for it to cool, but once the smell hit her, she couldn’t stop herself, and five minutes later her mouth was burned, but her stomach was satisfied.

Once her immediate needs were satisfied, Ava sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch and leaned her head back. She was too tall to rest her head on the cushion on the back, so she slumped down, closing her eyes for just a second.

When she opened them again, the room was dark and the small icon that meant Amythyst was accessing her implants was visible on the upper left edge of her vision. She didn’t like being reminded that she had electronic devices in her head, so she didn’t keep much up on her interface, but she and Amythyst had agreed that this was a good way to make sure Ava knew Amythyst was around, so she didn’t have to worry about where she was looking when she went to the bathroom or changed her clothes.

“Amythyst?” she murmured, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She must have fallen asleep, and she frowned as she pulled her screen from her pocket and looked at the time.

The large screen on the wall lit up, and there was Amythyst, dressed in a green t-shirt and jeans, with a smile on her face. Without thinking, Ava stood and took a step forward, reaching out to touch her before she remembered it was just a digital image and dropped her hand.

“Hey!” Amythyst said, smiling. “Are you feeling better? It’s amazing how lying around in goo for a week can tire you out.”

Ava fell back a step and lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, catching the movement of her mirror image from the corner of her eye. Ava had hung a full-length mirror next to the screen so Amythyst could see her, since the AI was basically looking out of Ava’s eyes. It was a little disconcerting, since Ava didn’t really like looking at herself, but Amythyst had insisted.

“I would have been fine if you hadn’t made me eat,” Ava said. “I thought you’d be here when I got back.” She tried to keep the plaintive tone out of her voice, but from the look on Amythyst’s face, she didn’t entirely succeed.

Smile widening, Amythyst said, “You needed to eat and rest, and I was… working on something.”

Ava’s eyes narrowed. Amythyst had the processing power of a supercomputer, and it was rare that she used any significant amount of it, much less enough that she couldn’t divide off a portion to talk to Ava. “What were you working on?”

Amythyst grinned like a Cheshire cat who just ate a batch of tarts and managed to blame it on someone else. “Our escape plan, of course.”

Instead of immediately asking for details, Ava sat back down on the couch, crossed one leg over the other, and waited expectantly.

Amythyst huffed a breath and muttered, “You’re no fun. Fine. Here’s what we know.” She stepped to the side of the screen, and gestured to her right, where a picture of a medicine vial  appeared. “Amy is probably being drugged, using her nutritional supplements as a cover. When she’s in the pod, I have control of those supplements, so I can stop them. The biggest danger is that someone will notice the reservoir is still full, even though the system says it’s empty, but the reservoirs are flushed and cleaned automatically before medications are refilled, so as long as no one does a visual check, it’ll be fine.”

Ava nodded. “Are they supposed to do a visual check?”

Nodding, Amythyst said, “Of course. Trust but verify. It’s always better to use your own eyes, rather than just believing what the machines tell you. That said, that guy Quinn is the nurse assigned to check on your pods, and according to the logs, he actually opened the panel to check your feed exactly once, and didn’t even bother with Amy’s. Probably assumes the extra redundancies on the medical model means that the system will catch any issues.”

She sighed. “If he was in my department, I’d write him up and put him on probation, but as long as nothing causes a problem and attracts his attention, Veralt probably won’t even bother to check. That was part of my problem with him when we worked together. He’s a big believer in plausible deniability. He expects people to do their jobs, and if they don’t, well, he had no idea what was going on, so it’s not his fault. In this particular case, his lack of oversight is going to work in our favor.”

Shifting, Amythyst wiped away the hovering vial with a hand. “Now, once Amy is off her drugs, we should notice a significant change. If she’s aware of what’s been going on, she may be angry, or she may attempt to run away. I wish I could predict her response but,” she shook her head, “it’s all going to depend on how much she understands.”

An image of a brain appeared where the vial had been, and as it rotated, different areas lit up in different colors. “Amy’s injuries were primarily to the left side of the cerebral cortex, especially the frontal lobe. We’ve seen that she struggles to speak and move, and while that may just be because of the medications Veralt has her on, it may also be lingering damage from the trauma.”

Ava cast her mind back to the training Amythyst had recently put her through to learn all the things she might need in order to get the job as Amy’s caretaker. “The frontal lobe controls concentration, planning, creativity, and judgment,” she said, slowly. “As a whole, the cerebral cortex handles… practically everything else that makes a person who they are.”

“Yes,” Amythyst said, full lips pinching tightly. “But the brain is remarkably good at healing itself. Other parts of the brain take on the role of the damaged parts, and it builds new connections to replace the broken ones. And, as she recovers from being drugged, I should be able to use the system she was developing to help patients with similar kinds of brain damage. It was never really tested, but in theory, it should allow me to support her use of language, as well as refine her motor control while she’s in the game, and then I can create an app that will run on her implants to help with language, at least, though it’s not as effective.”

“That doesn’t help her think, though, Amythyst,” Ava reluctantly reminded the AI. “She’s clearly not a vegetable, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to be… well, Amy any more, either. What do we do if she wants to stay here, or if she can’t make that choice at all?”

This wasn’t the first time Ava had asked this, but Amythyst always managed to circle around and say they’d deal with that when the time came. But the time was rapidly approaching, and they needed to plan for all contingencies.

Amythyst met Ava’s eyes and sighed before looking down. “Do you remember when you were trying to plan for what was going to happen when you walked into this house?”

Ava nodded. “You told me I couldn’t plan for everything. That if I couldn’t be flexible, I was going to freeze up when something happened that I wasn’t ready for.”

Lifting her eyes, Amythyst said, “That’s right. So, yes, it may be that Amy… isn’t herself any more. That she never will be again. Maybe the person she is now will want to stay here. But I know, better than anyone else possibly could, that if the old Amy could make the decision, she’d beg us to get her out of here. And that’s what I’m going to do.”

Ava stared into that determined green gaze and could only nod. “Then how is this going to work?”

Amythyst grinned. “First, we get Amy off the drugs. Then, we assess the actual damage, and determine how much Amy’s system can help. Then, we get her out.”

Ava sighed and leaned forward, running her hands through her hair. “Amythyst, that’s literally the same plan we’ve had all along. We need details.”

Amythyst waved her hand, and another picture formed on the screen beside her. This one was of a man, around sixty years old, slightly heavy-set, with thick gray hair, a vaguely Hispanic cast to his features, and a charismatic smile on his face. Even Ava recognized him instantly.

“President Short?” she asked, wondering where Amythyst was going with this.

“Former President George Short, yes.” Amythyst agreed. “A wildly successful businessman, thanks to the fact that his hunches are almost never wrong. One of the youngest Presidents ever elected, and also one of the most popular, partially because he was the only bachelor ever elected, and the ladies love him. He completed his second term when he was just fifty-three years old. Wrote a book, romanced a few more ladies, and then vanished from public view a little over a year ago.”

Amythyst reached over and took the figure’s hand. “He’s also known as Amy’s Uncle George.”

Ava lifted a finger, pointing at the smiling image of the man who had been President of the United States for almost half of her life. “That? That is your Uncle George? The one you refused to ask for help?”

Amythyst nodded proudly, though the look on her face when she looked at the sturdy figure standing next to her was heart-wrenchingly sad. “The one who’s dying? Yes. I took your advice and reached out to him through his private electronic ID. I used a code he and Amy came up with when she was in high school. When Carl would get too overbearing, Amy would send George a message, and let him know she needed him to come and break her out for a little while. Once, not long after he was elected the first time, he made VP Sawyer take over a meeting with the French President so he could fly out and take Amy for ice cream.”

She shook her head and let the image fade, her hand falling limply to her side as she looked back to Ava. “I’d say he was like a father to me - to Amy, but he really took Mother’s place after she died. When she was alive, Carl focused most of his obsession on her, but she knew that after she was gone, he’d shift it somewhere, and Hank and Amy were the most likely targets. She asked George to step in when needed, and made Carl promise to listen to him.”

She stopped, and the silence dragged on long enough that Ava finally prompted, “So? What happened when you sent him that message?”

Amythyst sighed, looking like she wasn’t sure whether to be happy or terrified. “He wants to meet us. In Veritas Online, since it’s very difficult for him to leave his home any more. If we can convince him Amy is still alive, he’ll help us get her out.”