Dec 8th, 2353
Finally inside the Kuiper Belt, roughly halfway between the sphere and the colonies, the trio reclined on marshmallow-soft couches, engrossed in a SimUact created by Mushkin. The swarms of seemingly delicate tentacled aliens inside their tiny, golf ball-sized spaceships were attacking The Farm, causing explosions so intense that one nearly reached Brenda's face.
"That was a close call," she exclaimed breathlessly.
"Mushkin knows exactly how far the explosion could travel. He would never let anything happen to you." It was weird to hear Richard fondly anthropomorphize an AI, but he had a strange attachment to Mushkin that Brenda did not understand.
The Act ended and credits composed of large stone letters floating in the air shifting and reforming spelling out all the characters and technical crew, all of which ended in 'Mushkin.' This was not a display of ego but an effect Mushkin knew Richard found humorous.
As the remnants of the SimUact dissolved into the floor, the swirling colors and textures slowly merged to form a beautifully woven rug of red and yellow thick yarn underneath the marshmallow couches. Mushkin's voice echoed softly in their ear. "A message has arrived while you were watching the SimUact, but I assessed a couple of hours wouldn't make any difference. Do you want the message now or later?"
Richard felt no great need to move from the very comfortable couch. "Play it," he said.
Brenda leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, and glanced at the information floating before Richard. The sender was identified as Élodie Dubois. Upon seeing her name, Brenda's eyebrows shot up in a rare show of surprise. Élodie had been a famed geographer on Earth after becoming an Immortal.
"What do you call a cartographer in the colonies, anyway?" Richard quipped with a sideways grin. "With its constantly shifting rooms and tunnels, it must feel like trying to map clouds."
Brenda chuckled at the analogy, though her mind was already whirling with the possibilities. Élodie was distinctive. In a society where colonist aesthetics could be altered with ease, the Immortals became more distinctive as time passed.
"I think Dusty would call herself unemployed," Brenda said with a kind smile.
Élodie Dubois had struggled with weight issues before her transformation. As an Immortal, her perfected form had narrowed her torso while making her big-boned hips appear quite disproportionately large. At only 150 cm tall, she had an almost toy-like appearance, reminiscent of the wooden carvings from her youth that would right themselves when pushed over.
Her large, crooked nose dominated her face, but it was her expressive green eyes and plump, full lips that drew immediate attention. Despite her endearing features, her skin was mottled and often gave her a perpetually dirty look. Her French and Sicilian ancestry was visible in the patches of colors of her skin. Her hair was dark blonde, brittle, and wispy, refusing to grow long.
Despite her unconventional looks, Dusty's personality shone through brightly. Growing up in the hell of an obese childhood in a private school had instilled an unwavering self-assurance and charisma in her that remained undiminished. She was opinionated, forthright, and even at times confrontational, with an almost infectious enthusiasm that was hard to resist. Her intelligence and wit were matched only by her gusto, which she brought to every aspect of her life with a tireless fervor. It was these traits, along with her unmistakable appearance, that had made her memorable in the circles in which she moved.
"Élodie mapping out the sphere might actually be advantageous," Brenda reflected aloud. "We’ve only really explored a handful of rooms ourselves, a comprehensive mapping could be useful."
Richard leaned back, considering Brenda's point. He recalled Élodie from an Earth-bound symposium years ago. She had seized the attention of the audience that day with her strikingly innovative theories on geospatial transitions. She might have looked plain to an undiscerning eye, but no one who had seen her command a room would underestimate her.
"True, a map in the hands of Élodie Dubois would indeed be a valuable treasure," Richard agreed. "She would give us a perspective into the sphere that no one else could."
"Mushkin, tell her it's an open invitation. And in a non-insulting way, remind her that she will need a portable AI as there's no Janice over there. Also, send a message to the fabricators for backup supplies a cartographer might need. Better too much than too little."
"Can't we just make everything at the sphere?"
"It takes forever to fabricate neural tissue. It took four days to create an autodoc. Imagine if half the people forget they're going to need an AI. The fabricator will be jammed up for a month."
Since the SimUact had ended, Richard had been using the Halo to playfully manipulate gravity and secretly braid long pigtails into Brenda's hair without her knowledge. He framed it as a joke to avoid Mushkin's boundary protocols. He loved seeing Brenda with pigtails - they made her look cute and playful.
The five-year-old had drifted off to sleep snuggled into the plush comfort of the couch, his attention to the story waning with the onset of tiredness. Flitting dreams danced behind his closed eyelids, uninterested in the inconsequential adult message that had played out around him. Within the dimly-lit cabin, Richard, his eyes reflecting a veil of muted starlight, gently clasped Brenda's braided pigtails, guiding her toward the secluded ambiance of the rear cabin. His lips curved into an inviting smile, a private jest dancing in the corners of his eyes. "Shall we celebrate?" The question, an echo of countless similar moments throughout their shared past, hung in the air. It unfailingly meant one thing when it was whispered from Richard's lips, and the sweet memory of their intimate celebrations had been dormant for a few weeks now.