01

  * A Bright Morning *

  "Good morning, Pers."

  "Good morning, Andromeda," a voice replied, as mechanical as the A.I. emulator on her fridge. "The sun has risen precisely four degrees above the horizon. Today is Tuesday, May 5th, 2086. Probability of a clear sky remains at five percent. Atmospheric levels considered harmful."

  Well, there it was. That day would not be the day Andromeda woke to a bright morning. Not unlike every other day of the last year or so. But there were still songs in her heart and brightness in her life, so she began her morning as usual: crossing to the window and pressing her palms against the glass. However, what was different on this occasion was how the sight affected her.

  How she loved looking at Jaffa.

  Shuttles buzzed across the crowded sky, and towers tore asunder the nebulous sea below. And everywhere, people from across the world gathered in meeting rooms and ballroom floors. If it's worth doing, Jaffa does it best. That was the city's reputation, one Andromeda had yet to challenge. Interstellar casino, zero-gravity golf, holographic zoo, and even supraplanetary blip—the one where you were sent beyond the planet's rim and through time and space itself—so much to be done in the city and so much she had tried.

  There was little mystery left for Andromeda.

  "Would you like a cup of Yuzu tea to start your day?" A great question asked by P.E.R.S.E.U.S., her robot assistant. The brand-new model by Medusa's Corporation. A machine expensive to say the least but apparently better than past iterations. Better even than some humans.

  Everything he did, he did for her, without ever asking questions, except for the ones needed to operate his tasks. Or when he was simply curious, which she had been told would subside over time. Pers, as she liked to call him, looked nothing human, of course. Well, his face was a pale imitation of a conventionally attractive man, sure, albeit with much less skin. But with his secret-alloy armature and biomechanical hardware—the latest invention in computing power—his appearance rooted him in his robotic nature.

  "You know what, I'll go with Five Plants," she replied earnestly, watching his reflection in the glass as he clambered across the room in an oddly primate way.

  "Five Plants," he repeated without warmth. "Right away, madam!"

  His mimicking of speech patterns was impressive, that was to be said, even as his words had no weight beyond their function. She was constantly reminded of how little he actually understood. It was one thing to ignore the taste of tea, to have been built only to pretend, but perhaps more importantly, he would never understand the taste of habit—and without it, never would he enjoy breaking it.

  Steam curled from the automated kettle as Pers set to work, movements already far outdoing C.A.D.M.U.S., the previous generation that used to awkwardly sift through every task, always on the verge of breaking something. Andromeda smiled wistfully. She was glad to have Pers in a way.

  She had chosen the more human model, the one dedicated to ordinary tasks. That way, he left her with all the remaining time to pursue her artistic endeavours and creative tasks. She'd never understood those who did the opposite: buying robots to paint and write while they got down to doing the dishes and cleaning. But to each their own, she supposed.

  The neon scrawl of a holo-ad flickered past the glass, its electric hues blending with the shifting clouds.

  Come One, Come All—Eclipse departure for Seriphos, One Grand Voyage!

  A promise of adventure, mystery and the awe of discovering a better place.

  She had wondered what was to be found in space, and why people left without ever returning. According to the ads and documentaries, the exoplanet at the end of the journey was a lush environment, free from air pollution. That alone would have been enough to lure her there, but she had never found the will. It was scary to leave everything you owned behind. Everything you knew. Sure, she had done nearly all there was to be done in Jaffa, but it was her home. And one didn't simply leave one's home.

  The tea clicked into place on her marble coffee table, signaling the end of her reveries and the beginning of her activities. She sashayed to the living room and grabbed the porcelain cup. The tea's temperature was perfect, hot enough to invigorate, but not so much as to burn her tongue. The process had been optimised to extract the essence from the leaves in the best way possible. Or so they said.

  Pers straightened almost proudly, in front of her, the blue light escaping from the processor as it… processed behind his torso, or whatever these things did. "You have been awake for seven minutes and twenty-four seconds," he noted. "Do you require further assistance?"

  "Yes, one more thing, Pers," she replied. "I was just thinking… We'll be going for a stroll today."

  He paused, as if his circuitry awaited further instructions. Andromeda lifted the tea to her lips, inhaling the herbal warmth.

  "I am not sure I understand the request," he finally said.

  "I'm saying you can join me as I walk around Jaffa."

  Pers' mechanical eyelids blinked rudimentarily. "It would be an anomaly in the routine."

  "A revolution," she corrected. "Whether the sun shines or not, I will not pass another day idle as the world keeps moving without me."

  Pers brought a finger to his temple. "That is the nature of time."

  "Indeed, and yet we shall not let it pass us by without existing ourselves."

  No sound left his mouth this time, even though she knew—oh, she knew—the quiet hum beneath his surface, the unseen chords pulled in his artificial mind. She could almost hear the biomechanical arsenal of computers singing away a melody inside his body.

  "I'm in no rush," she added, although the rhythm of her heart indicated otherwise. "I'll get ready in the meantime, maybe you could put on some clothes. Look fancy."

  Pers finally awoke. "What about this afternoon?"

  "What about it?"

  "Scheduled program for today, 3 pm: Follow-up appointment with Doctor Henry Cetus at Aethiopia's Health Center."

  Andromeda hesitated, a missed beat in an otherwise perfect symphony. But as a pianist recovering from an unexpected note, she played on. "Ah, yes. That." She waved a dismissive hand. "We'll be back before then."

  "Would you like to postpone?" he asked.

  Andromeda chuckled. "No, no, dear Pers, I am many things, but I am not a coward. A city's venture will not change what the good doctor has to say."

  She took one last sip, now lukewarm; no matter humanity's inventions, there was simply no escaping entropy. "Besides," she continued, "it is merely a routine appointment, nothing more! I'm sure Doctor Cetus won't mind our formal attire."

  Pers seemed to consider this. Then, with a nod, he activated his hologram, a virtual closet swinging rapidly before him.

  "Oh, no, no," she said, concerned. "That was not the kind of clothes I had in mind. Look in the cupboards on your left, there should be something befitting a revolt."

  The doors slid open with a soft hiss and revealed the limited wardrobe. "I should be ready in three minutes and fifty seconds," he said after analysing the assortment of sleek jackets and tailored coats.

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  Andromeda put down the cup and stretched with a satisfied sigh. "Then, as the French would say, c'est parti!"

  The lift doors whispered shut, sealing them in a capsule of glass and gold. It was a long way down from the peak of Boulder Tower, but a descent she never fully took. They would stop midway as she always did, right above the dark clouds.

  No matter what, Andromeda always stayed between the Cover below and the white layer that prevented her from seeing the sky.

  She leaned against the brass railing, watching the blend of metal, mirrors, and fake greens pass by.

  P.E.R.S.E.U.S. stood impeccably still, the high collar of his coat framing the inhuman lines of his face.

  "You wear it well," she quipped. "Almost regal."

  Pers glanced down at the fabric. "A curious statement," he replied. "Isn't royalty an antiquated system of governance, largely symbolic in function?"

  "It is."

  "Then why— Are you referring to aesthetic aspects?"

  "I am," she replied. "You're learning! I'm sure in no time you'll be able to follow my rants without trouble." Or at least, that's what the salesmen had promised.

  He tilted his head. "I am still confused about the implications of your statement."

  "That was a compliment."

  "Oh," he whirred. "I see, would you like me to analyse your attire?"

  Andromeda arched an eyebrow. "Do go on."

  Pers' delicately carved eyeballs, crimped with patterns of brass and copper, moved over her form.

  "The drape of your garment aligns with ancient Hellenic traditions," he said first. "The cinching at the waist is a nod to feminine ideals, emphasising symmetry and proportion. You would be considered avant-garde yet fashionable by modern standards. Though it is apparent that you enjoy control."

  She laughed. "You would make a fine critic."

  "I am merely making observations."

  She twirled a lock of dark hair absently, watching the waterless sea rise to meet them. "And what do you think of it?" She didn't expect much, but it was worth a try.

  "Your earrings do not match."

  Andromeda blinked. "They don't?"

  "The left one is gold, the right one silver."

  "A contradiction," she concluded.

  "Precisely, control in one aspect, asymmetry in another," he continued. "I wonder why that is?"

  "Oh, you wonder, do you?" she mused. "Perfection framed imperfectly. Them being uneven doesn't mean they do not match. It is differences that make the world interesting. Not everything has to be symmetrical."

  The lift slowed, and the doors parted.

  "Oh, are we there?" Pers asked.

  She smiled, grabbing the leather suitcase resting on the glass floor. "We are... Welcome to Jaffa's Walkways of Giants."

  The azure light of P.E.R.S.E.U.S. blinked in waves as he gazed at the massive stone lanes that stretched from spire to spire. They arched between the towers, suspended over the city in myriads of connections. Around them, the area was almost deserted, but closer to Jaffa's center and down below, thousands of people were making the crossing.

  Pers stepped forward, his black felted coat swaying in the artificial breeze. Then, he put both hands on the railing and gazed below at the vale of civilisation.

  Andromeda watched, a strange amusement crossing her while she joined him. "Well?"

  "Where should we go?" he asked, his usual tone surfacing.

  "That is the question, Pers," she said with a smirk. "We'll go that way." Andromeda pointed to the lane going out from Boulder Tower and towards Jaffa's center. Then, she led the way.

  Through the paved stone and under the domes protecting the Walkways, they made their way above the city. Cars occasionally flew over them like flies in distant summers. Andromeda hadn't stepped foot outside her apartment in almost a year, but everything had stayed precisely as it was.

  As they ventured closer to the center, they started seeing more and more people. Jaffa was a melting pot of a city. Wealthy people from around the world came for a chance at a peaceful life, or a far-from-peaceful one, depending on their inclinations. Droves of unseen workers presumably came to assist in the undercity, but never had Andromeda been there. And never had she met any workers, except for the robot assistants. Not that it mattered, really.

  It didn't take long for Pers to ask yet another question. "Would you like me to hold your luggage?"

  He had probably picked up on her struggle; it wasn't heavy per se, but her strength had been diminished over the years.

  "Don't worry, Pers," she said gleefully. "Where we're going, it won't be a burden anymore."

  She didn't know when her decision had been made, except that it occurred sometime after her last appointment with Dr. Cetus.

  He was a beast of a man. Round as any human could be, with a head bigger than the flying machines that had replaced the tourist office. And he was sweaty, with pearls sliding over his bald head, which he wiped away with a blue handkerchief.

  And during that appointment, he had pointed at the screen behind him, where a series of numbers was displayed, courtesy of a body scan everyone took once a year. Most of the figures meant little to her; she had never embarrassed herself with the details as long as Dr. Cetus smiled with his long, sharp teeth and assured her everything was okay. But that time, he had grumbled something she hadn't understood. That became the first reason why she'd found the whole ordeal weird.

  But when she saw the central number, one of the rare ones she knew the signification of, she had laughed. Silly machines, was her first thought. Consistently wrong, yet always expected to give their opinion. The number was anyone who took the scan's life expectancy. One that displayed the days left before… well, an inevitable death. The calculations apparently took into account any possible interventions done and medications taken to improve health. La crème de la crème in terms of diagnosis—that's what Henry Cetus had told her when she had begun losing her patience. The 'best-case scenario,' or the second reason.

  But what really drove the point was the infographic he had finally cast on the screen. End-stage pulmonary infection and adenocarcinoma. Accelerated over the years by her unwarranted excursions outside of oxygenated zones… Or so he had said.

  And though he had apologised for the late prognosis, by the time she understood what he was saying, there was no reasoning with her. She stood up in the pure white room, shook Dr. Cetus' big, wet hand for the first and last time, and left without saying another word. Except for: 'Then I guess I'll see you in 400 days.' To which he hadn't responded. She had hoped to at least get a smile out of that.

  That was one year ago.

  The follow-up appointments she had either postponed or canceled altogether, staying hidden in her ivory tower for three hundred and sixty-four days. She was a coward, but she couldn't bring herself to confess it to a robot.

  "Welcome to Eclipse Departure Center!" the automated registry booth proclaimed. "What can I help you with today?"

  Andromeda stepped closer to the machine and let the suitcase drop to her feet. "Registering for next departure."

  "Registering Program: Please stand still for the scan."

  A yellow scanner materialised from the machine's top and flew over her face.

  "What are we registering for?" P.E.R.S.E.U.S. curiously asked.

  "Nothing," she lied. "We just need to complete some paperwork to access Jaffa's center."

  The machine lit up once more. "Welcome, Andromeda Spark." A chime rang through the terminal, like the sound of a service bell from one of the luxury hotels. "All systems are go! Confirm Premium Registration."

  She pressed her thumb to the screen.

  Ding.

  "Transaction complete! Thank you for choosing Eclipse Departures. Premium pass activated."

  Pers tilted his head next to her. "Does access paperwork require biometric scans?"

  Andromeda exhaled softly through her nose before taking hold of her luggage once more. "Come, Pers, we can go through now!" She turned swiftly before Pers could press further, and stepped into the flow of the station.

  The EDC was a place of wonder, and the sheer volume of people could have swallowed them whole.. All kinds of aristocrats, oligarchs, and less fortunate individuals were pressed against each other, mumuring their excitement as they drew nearer to the central attraction. And overhead, hundreds of holographic advertisements played in seamless loops, selling voyages across the galaxy and far beyond. Lunar retreats, suborbital vacations—none of these temporary journeys interested her.

  Thanks to the priority lane, they avoided the bulk of the crowd, making their way through a golden-lit corridor which bypassed all snaking queues. And not even a minute later, they stood before the boarding chamber. A luminous, domed space lined with silken seats folded on the walls. Above, the ceiling curved into an iridescent display of starfields and supernovas.

  A jingle played a bright fanfare, announcing a speech: "Welcome aboard! Eclipse Departure is proud to count you amongst their voyagers. Close your eyes and before you know it, you'll touch the sky!"

  Pers looked around him in search of the voice, then looked at her with what resembled a knowing smile. "You'd make a fine politician."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I am referring to the lie."

  Andromeda arched an eyebrow in shock. "I'm not following you this time, Perseus."

  Pers lifted a finger. "That was a compliment!"

  Andromeda ran her fingers lightly along the polished walls as she reached her chamber. A wide cocoon-like bed awaited her in the middle of the room, its outer shell white and reflective, the interior draped in the softest fabric. An ambient purple light circled the glass ceiling that would enclose the capsule for her great dormancy. And resting on the mattress, a leaflet.

  She let the suitcase down and took the information paper before making her way around the bed. Right behind it, carved inside the thick marble walls, a single porthole drew her in.

  They were already making their ascent above Jaffa, the walls gently shaking with the rumble of the engine. And right before they passed the highest peak in the city, her own apartment complex, the cloudy sky ruptured, and long-awaited rays made their way through the white layers. It wasn't the artificial lights of the city, nor a diffused glow, but real unfiltered sunshine.

  She inhaled sharply, feeling her skin warm up under the touch of a brilliant star. Then, she turned to Pers and nudged him lightly, "five percent, heh?"

  Pers' processor pulsed. "I suppose we were lucky."

  She laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of her new temporary home.

  She had wondered what was to be found in space, and why people left without ever returning. According to the leaflet, the exoplanet at the end of the journey was a lush environment, free from air pollution. That alone would have been enough to lure her there, but it took her facing death to find the will. To finally brace herself. It was scary to leave everything you owned behind. Everything you knew. Sure, she had done nearly all there was to be done in Jaffa, but one didn't simply leave one's home.

  Except for that day's Andromeda, who, on a bright morning, had left hers behind. Forevermore.

  ***