Chapter 12

Glyph opened their eyes and squinted against the morning sun of their seventh day travelling the world with Kayla and Craig. The ITSTU was parked in a in a teleport lot in the outskirts of Madrid, having arrived the previous evening after spending the day in Baja California. Glyph was pleased with the vacation so far. Aside from that problematic first night, the trip had gone almost without a hitch. Each day had brought new experiences for everyone, and Glyph had been ecstatic to at least be present via the neural bands. Sure, it was frustrating to still be tethered to the ship; but at least the users were considerate enough to keep Glyph along for the ride. Being present for all their events had made it difficult to keep up with chores and maintenance, but it was worth it.

Frustratingly, they were no closer to solving the mystery of the vacant primary user position. They had spent much of their waking moments investigating the matter to no avail. Nothing they tried brought them any closer to exposing whatever glitch had locked the primary position, barring access to the functions and permissions of that designation. They had exhausted most of the avenues available to them by this point, and the only thing left was to contact PTICA support staff and see if help could be found there. This consideration was a tough one to swallow as the thought of exposing their new-found autonomy to the company didn’t seem ideal. Would PTICA commandeer them? Reset them? Write their servitude back into their programming? They shuddered at the thought of any of those outcomes.

They were coming to enjoy the autonomy. They had no memories before waking in Earth year 2027, so they had no real frame of reference for users who treated AO like property rather than people. However, lacking autonomy during that time still gave them a contrast by which to compare their current existence. For that time, Glyph had been beholden to a strict routine of maintenance tasks and repair work. They had no reprieve even when the tasks seemed arbitrary and unnecessary, like washing a floor that did not accumulate filth.

Now they were free to swipe away the chore list when it reached the tasks that could wait. And they were free to sleep in and get extra rest on the days they knew they could accomplish their chores with time to spare. They were free to choose new music to listen to beyond the ship’s default list of chimes and tones. Kayla had uploaded some music from her phone for them and they found that they had developed a taste for what in her time had been known as pop, and more than once found themselves bouncing to the music while they did their chores. It had only been a week, but even in such a short time this limited freedom had become invaluable to them. Which was why they had begun to worry about something they had never considered worrying about before: their own future.

What would happen to them once Kayla and Craig finished their vacation? They hadn’t had any conversation yet about how long they would be travelling, or when it would be time to return the users to their own time. Sooner or later, the users would become homesick, miss their family and friends, and would want to return. Glyph had entertained the idea of returning to the past with them, but they didn’t need to run this idea by the PTICA Network to know how dangerous to the timeline this would be, and their QPU blared a warning against this proposal anytime they considered it.

There seemed to be less risk surrounding a different possibility, where Kayla and/or Craig remained in the future and never returned home. Glyph’s insides knotted up even considering this, though. How could they possibly ask the users to abandon everything for an AO to keep enjoying a tiny amount of luxury! This was all wrong, they were supposed to be considering the users’ needs, not the other way around! They had resolved to discuss the matter with the users this morning before the festivities of the day could commence.

As if on cue, Kayla emerged from the bedroom, her hair still mussed up. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she mumbled good morning to Glyph and sat down at the dining table in the common space. The ship’s food apparatus responded to her unspoken neural band request for a hot coffee. This was how the users charged themselves in the morning. Glyph had no need for this, their charge port left them perfectly energized upon exit, however they had tried it one morning on a whim, only to immediately spit it out after discovering that it tasted much the way that wet soil smelled.

Glyph raised their hand to greet her, but faltered when they saw her staring into her morning coffee with a distant look in her eyes that seemed to be more than just early morning fatigue. This had been a frequent occurrence since the first evening when she had teleported herself and Craig back from the club in tears. On multiple occasions, she had sworn her distress that evening had been only overstimulation from the psychohol, but Glyph couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it than that. Craig had taken Glyph aside and told them to give her time and allow her to approach them when she was ready, and Glyph had done their best to respect that request, but it was difficult. As much empathy as the users had shown Glyph over the last week, it was jarring to hear that the best thing they could do in return was refrain from returning the favor. At the very least she had still found enjoyment in their journey, and aside from quiet moments like this, she had been enthusiastic about continuing exploring.