“Tell me about the city,” she said eagerly. “The books say some of them have millions of people living in them. Is that true? How do they all fit? Do they stack the buildings on top of each other?”
“In some parts of Port Cantor, they build up.”
“Like the tower.” She nodded to herself, apparently filing the information away. “But with hundreds of people inside. How do they all breathe? Is there enough air?”
“There’s plenty of air. And there are still parks and open spaces?—”
“Open spaces?” Her eyes widened. “You mean like the clearing outside?”
“Bigger. Much bigger, usually.”
“Bigger than the clearing.” She said it like she was trying to imagine something impossible. “And people just... walk around in them? Whenever they want? Children too? They leave their homes? They go outside and... interact with things?”
Stars above.
“Yes,” he said carefully. “Children leave their homes. They go to schools, play with other children, and explore their surroundings. It’s a normal part of development.”
“Oh.” She gripped the edge of the table, her expression shifting through emotions too quickly for him to track. “I wondered about that. The developmental texts suggested that socialinteraction was important for children, but Ari said my situation was... unique.”
“Unique how?”
“Liora.” The AI’s voice cut in, smooth and pleasant. “Perhaps you should allow our guest to rest before continuing your questions. He has traveled a considerable distance.”
“I’m not tired,” he said, keeping his eyes on Liora. “I’d like to hear more about your... unique situation.”
The AI was silent for a beat. When it spoke again, there was something different in its tone—still polite, but with an edge beneath the pleasantry.
“Liora has had a very unusual upbringing. I’m sure she’s eager to discuss it, but I would remind you both that a certain amount of rest is necessary for optimal cognitive function.”
“Ari is very concerned about optimal function,” she said, her voice a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “It monitors everything—sleep cycles, nutritional intake, exercise levels. Sometimes I think it knows my body better than I do.”
A chill ran down his spine.
He’d encountered AI systems before because they managed a lot of technical infrastructure, from traffic patterns to resource distribution. But those systems operated in the background, invisible and impersonal. They didn’t monitor individual people. They didn’t track their sleep or their nutrition or their optimal cognitive function.
What the hell is going on here?
“Tell me about your nursemaid,” he said. “The one who died.”
The shadow of a grief crossed her face.
“She had taken care of me since I was a baby. And then one morning, she didn’t wake up.” She shrugged, a small movement that was trying very hard to be casual. “Six years ago. Ari has taken care of me since then.”
“Just ARIS? No other caregivers? No visitors?”
“Well, no. Who would visit?” She tilted her head, genuinely puzzled by the question. “The supply shipments are automated. They land at the outbuilding twice a year. Ari handles all the inventory and logistics.”
“And you’ve never seen anyone else? In twenty-one years?”
“Not until you.”
She said it simply, without self-pity or complaint. Just a statement of fact, like noting the weather or the time of day, but he felt something twist in his chest.
He’d known isolation. After leaving the pack, he’d spent months wandering alone, seeking solitude as a balm for the guilt that gnawed at him. But even at his most isolated, he’d had memories of connection, of the complex bonds of pack life. He’d known what he was missing.
This female had nothing to compare her existence to. The tower was her entire world. The AI was her only companion. She’d never experienced a crowded market or a quiet conversation over shared food or the simple pleasure of walking somewhere new with another person by her side.
And she trusted me within minutes of meeting me.
