The Foundry | Part Two | Chapter Nineteen
the next chapter of my forthcoming novel
The Foundry
by Daphne Garrido
Part Two | Rebuilt; Refound; Reclaimed
Part Three | Dominion
Chapter Nineteen
Echo was trying her best to maintain routines so she might appear unsuspicious. Yet, she’d been keeping that in healthy balance with hiding outright.
Awaking the morning after her plan’s success, she discovered a great weight of anxiety resting upon her. There was a notion within Echo, kicking around most often, and it seemed to be asking the same question repeatedly, ‘What the fuck have I done?’
There wouldn’t be much chance left for reconciliation with Rory after this, and that was certainly a part of the anxiety. If only a small one. The worry she may have missed something, or not covered her tracks completely, was limited. Echo had made her list and she’d checked it about a dozen times. There was a powerful attention to detail she was capable of when finding herself driven to such a task.
The concern was almost entirely that she would now be murdered by Rory.
Escalation had been the name of the game, as those ever building strokes of dastardly genius were wielded so callously against each other, and Echo was having trouble thinking of another thing Rory might do to get her back for this one. They were going to hate her so completely, forever, and she had no idea what to expect. It was breeding paranoia into Echo as she’d moved throughout The Foundry’s corridors.
Freak airlock malfunction; that’s where her mind kept going to, and she was staying well away from those.
Second-quarter was past its apex, and the development of each budding intelligence was of foremost concern to this initiate class. Fox was doing quite well — he was a beast. Although, Echo had now been seriously doubting the assurance of his continued wellbeing.
There was a code followed most strictly — only to be broken once throughout the entire history of The Foundry — which maintained that all pair-bonded intelligences and their human counterparts were allowed complete secrecy in their workings together.
No matter how little The Foundry would expend energy on internal defensive measures when it came to their administrational and operational practices — and regardless of the fact they’d soon be upgrading the containment of their warship’s hardcases, having simply not seen that one coming for it’s complete lack of morality — everything else regarding the housing and security of these AI beings was most profoundly hardened. Especially, those communications between them and their pilots, and that sacred space in which they developed to maturity.
For centuries now, had The Foundry been in operation by system-time, the focus of its purpose always on developing these bonds, on harnessing synchronicity between humanity and machine, connecting a sensual organic being with one of higher intelligence to find all they might be capable of together.
Bliss had been a star. She was renowned for her fearsome truth telling and tenaciousness, along with those graceful wisdoms of compassion she’d held in such harmony.
When Echo explained her breadth of understanding regarding the situation, all she’d done and seen, expected and intuited, Fox had exhibited much concerned. He was stressing that the Ekara Oaksmith connection troubled him most.
Echo understood the worry, but whenever he’d mention that woman’s name she’d drift off somewhere in her head, finding herself ponder about how unfinished business remained after all. There would have to be some form of attention paid to that woman, despite their position and power, and Echo would wait for her opportunity to present itself.
With Fox simply being aware of the situation, it had taken much pressure from her shoulders. He’d been working to bolster his own security buffers, and was endeavoring to observe all he could. There were means in which Fox could utilize for seeing beyond his containment housed within the core-complex.
Intelligences were allowed to see out — it was important to their development, needed for them to understand what they’re a part of — yet, others wouldn’t be able to see inside. Except their pair-bond, who would have witness to the most magical evolution of spiritual intelligence any human could hope to see. Every pilot loved their intelligence most completely — they were a child and parent, a sibling and teacher — Alice had been the most special and complete relationship Echo had ever known.
They were angels, every one of The Foundry’s developed super-intelligences. When their service aboard a warship was complete, their pilot aged and retired, they’d be shuttled about the galaxy to see the stars and develop into beings which could save planets from their disastrous ways, solve great disputes, and heal people back into touch with spirit itself.
Echo had been meditating a lot in her cabin. Sitting with the guilt, knowing she’d have to live with it, and understanding there’d be a need to lie about this to everyone if she wished to keep her place. That would be the hardest part.
In public, she’d been putting all her attention on playing the part of her usual self, determined not to have her eyes peeled while walking into every new corridor and chamber, or be listening to each whisper throughout her expeditions throughout The Foundry.
Not a word had been spoken of this. She’d not even known for certain it had been discovered yet. Though, a part of her was aware that pilots wouldn’t go long without speaking to their companion. Rory probably found out the moment she’d woken up in the morning.
Regardless, the silence regarding the matter was concerning. It bore within Echo suspicions of what might be brewing, and wonderings if an investigation may have already begun. The biggest thing she worried about, was that Rory was going to, “murder her to pieces,” as she’d explained to Alan.
She hadn’t elaborated the why, but she’d not had to. There wasn’t any part of her up for talking about what happened in that simulation. It had simply not been faced by Echo at the moment. There was too much hurt in it. That was the worst thing which could have ever happened to her.
He’d just assumed it was about the porn video. Which, she had told him about. They’d even watched it together. Echo had been giving it a go herself sometimes too. After the horror of it all wore off most of the way, perhaps, in part because of the bits which remained, she ended up finding it quite erotic. She’d really missed out on Cameron.
Alan was leading the way towards the dining hall, and it felt quiet in the corridors. When they arrived it was much the same.
Ironically, she’d chosen fish again for the very first time. Echo was thinking that if she might die soon, she’d want to have it at least one more time. Alan had been having what he’d normally get, a build-your-own meat and veggie wrap.
The first strange thing which Echo noticed was the chair crashing upon their table, demolishing their food, causing it to collapse into the destruction wrought. Then the screaming, which didn’t seem like real words, more like a miracle-blend of word ‘bitch’, ‘Echo’, and some saurian beast’s roar.
Echo knew it time to leave.
She’d seen Alan react and was most grateful for that. Yet, before she’d been able to spring from her chair and leap over the wreckage of their table, there’d been an impact upon her right side-body which sent her to the floor with some viciously thrashing weight atop her.
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Rory screamed, confirming Echo’s expectations of how they’d resolve their conclusions and intents, and the reason for that chair.
Before they’d been able to do more than claw at her eyes again, while Echo was curling her arms up into the best defensive protection she could muster, Alan had clearly gotten involved. She’d felt that weight pinning her to the floor lift-free, and turned in her scrawl to witness the aftermath of his full-body impact upon Rory’s.
They’d splayed in a mess of their writhing, wrestling bodies. He was swinging on them, and Echo saw one catch them clean on the temple.
Rory must have done something as Echo was scrambling back to her feet. Grabbing somewhere precious, twisting something sensitive, because Alan cried out and lurched back off Rory. She’d kicked him right in the jaw, with vicious impact, her rising boot landing clean and commissioning a loudest thud.
She’d been up to her feet and carving a path around him towards Echo as they’d finally found their own footing.
Echo took off, leaping onto a nearby table, then jumping from one to the next, escaping this alcove of seating in the dining hall. People were watching, the staff was frozen in shock with food-trays and cleaning cloths in hand. It would have been a sight she remembered.
There had been four leaps before the table which lurched out from beneath her, sending her feet straight out ahead, and Echo’s head back with such force.
