No, no, no, no, no that was someone elseNo, no, no, no, no, no, no that wasn't me

  Lay is back asleep, and some brief triage has her in stable condition. I need to put together an order for the orbital ferry's synthesizer. The tool rig has a compact one but its use is limited. The scheduled skyhook extraction has been postponed but I'll need more supplies for myself. Further link testing will need antirejection meds. We can grow an interface cluster for her in the long term, but we'd have to visit the main ship.

  Field Command’s new orders arrive while I'm reviewing human physiology. Global information and historical analysis is still ongoing. FC has major concerns. Begin a journey to the ship as soon as safe passage can be secured for both of you. We wish for a direct link with her. Suggested formutions for antirejection supplements are attached along with a briefing on my analysis so far.

  Major concerns… I was more focused on the situation at hand, but if Lay's knowledge of human history is accurate, then I know why this is the pn of action. They still have ongoing war and widespread immiseration, despite their technological advancements.

  FC's formus are more tailored than what I was preparing. I hadn't expected them to bother with this level of assistance. I expected they'd be focused on analysis until it was complete. Looking through the briefing, I feel some of my tendrils tense up.

  Corda scientists explored theoretical weaponry that we could use against outsiders or rogue societal cells. After we achieved social unification, warfare was considered an absolute st resort until we began to make contact with the other residents of the universe. Several pusible designs were outright rejected due to how terrible or destructive they would be, and direct research into producing them was banned.

  Here, on earth, they have thousands of one of these banned concepts built. Many are ready to unch at any moment. An awful bomb, humans only used it in war twice. Both times were less than a hundred years ago and they wiped out entire popution centers. Humans lived in terror for decades as their most powerful nations built enough bombs to destroy the surface of their pnet. Worse, they tested and perfected such a thing over the entire period.

  Chemical weaponry has been abundant in their warfare for over a century. Chemical weapons are less common now, and theoretically banned on earth. Unfortunately, it looks like that's not even a perfect consensus. They used them to awful ends before even reaching this point.

  No wonder Joiner wants to meet one. I imagine they want to directly inspect the human neural environment. At least Lay doesn't seem capable of such awful things…

  How am I supposed to discreetly take a human off world!? It seems like filling some role is pretty important to the human lifestyle, and Lay has one as far as I can tell. Other humans might notice her absence in the extended period of travel we'd need. I’ll have to do some refitting on the orbital ferry before she can board. Only a tiny fraction of humanity has even been out of their atmosphere and I’m not sure she’s prepared for the trip.

  The st remnants of the wayward terrace suggest preparing a location for the skyhook drop. The roof should be fine, but we should set up a couple of target pylons and an aerial guide. Unfortunately, doing any of that during the daytime is out of the question.

  Looking around, I pick a book off of a shelf next to Lay’s desk, “The Hobbit”. I recall it listed as a significant piece of literature. Plucking it from the shelf and putting it on the desk, I finger through it for a few hours while Lay sleeps in the other room.

  -

  Awake, this time to a different type of headache. I have to pee now, too.

  Sit up, get up, dizzy.

  A moment, steadying myself against the bed. I can barely tell the wound is there, which is surprising. Reaching up and feeling my back, just under my neck. There's something there, like a patch of second skin over the wound. I can even feel the touch through it…

  Standing up more carefully this time, I amble over to the bathroom right next to my room. Sitting down, I start to get my relief.

  I hear soft clicking from the living room start, then get closer. The door sits wide open, a bad habit from living alone.

  Wayward scurries in, geared up, and a voice comes from them, “Lay-. How are you fee-ling?” The voice is clearly synthesized. Jilted, but less robotic than I’d have expected.

  “Uh,” I suppress some shame for a moment, “better, I need some more water, and some food, too… Can you wait outside the room for a moment?” The shame won out. Wayward scuttles back out of the bathroom doorway, leaving it open still.

  They continue, “I have ord-ers from F C. They want to meet you.”

  “In person? Aren’t they in orbit around, uh, Jupiter?” I get up and flush, moving towards the sink.

  “Corr-ect. We are to de-ter-mine ste-ps to get you off worl-d.”

  Running the tap and thering up, I think- Sure. Just a quick vacation off the pnet. That sounds… Well, how am I gonna get time off of work? How am I gonna pay rent while I’m in space!?

  “I… don’t know how easily we can make that happen, Wayward. I have a job…” hands washed, I step over to the door.

  “You have a role to fill. Per-haps an o-ther human can take o-ver?”

  “That’s not really how it works… Humans are expected to do certain things to, uh… function within Earth society?” I rack my brain a bit about how to expin capitalism.

  “I be-lieve I see. What is your func-tion?”

  “I guess I mostly move boxes and pallets around”

  A few more of Wayward’s eyes turn to look at me, a strange look from a strange creature. “You can-not leave such a ban-al tas-k to oth-er-s?”

  “Let me think about it,” I shoo them further into the hallway and move to grab my water bottle from my bedroom. Giving it a more serious thought, I can get to half of a pn. “I’m changing into clean clothes. I could probably get time off but there’s another few problems we’d have to solve.”

  Wayward replies from the hall, “of cour-se, you need an al-i-bi while you are gone.”

  Underwear, sweatpants, oversized tee from the non-work shirts (no bra). “Yes, it’d be a bit suspicious if I literally disappeared off of the pnet for- well, how long would we be gone?”

  “I be-lieve the trip would be six to eight weeks.”

  Picking up a hoodie and stepping into the hall, I follow wayward back toward the couch. “That’s a while. I’d need to cover my expenses over that period, too.”

  “Ex-pens-es…? Cap-i-tal?”

  “Yeah, I’d normally make money from my job, but they won’t pay me while I’m gone,” I sit on the couch and they settle across from me on the floor. “I have to pay for the apartment, heating, and some other minor bills.”

  A shift in the cephalopod body nguage. I can’t read their mood easily without the link. “I see. Per-hap-s Joi-ner can find a way to help with that.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “I have an i-de-a but it will de-pend on how dis-creet-ly we can al-ter hu-man in-for-ma-tion sys-tems”

  “Alter information… You think FC could hack a bank system or something?”

  “Bank… yes… some thing like that”

  Sipping my water as I watch the te afternoon sun stream in through the curtains, other thoughts creep in.

  “What are you going to do about link testing?”

  “I have me-di-ca-tion in-com-ing from our ship in or-bit.”

  “How does that work?”

  “A sky hook. It is an orb-it-al del-iv-er-y mech-an-is-m. It is how I ar-rived on Earth. It will come ton-ight al-ong with oth-er sup-plies. We can re-link once it has ar-rived. If you would… like.”

  I can’t help but chuckle a bit. They almost seem timid. “Yeah. Let’s try again.”

  -

  Amused by my decision to read, Lay suggested I continue the book while she prepares herself some food. I haven't made it very far yet as I'm still familiarizing myself with their nguage, and written communication isn't common for Corda. The human imagination is certainly something, though, and the story has a pleasing, whimsical quality.

  I message FC before starting to read again, Further link testing to begin within a few hours. Transport may be organized but Lay must maintain capital income while she is away. Can FC provide support in this regard? Estimating 1 to 2 weeks until we are ready to depart, otherwise.

  Shortly, Lay sits back down on the couch with some noodle soup. She quietly watches me as I take my time with the pages. I wonder if the mountain trolls, or even the dragon would be good candidates for a link. While they are cruel and carnivorous creatures, that has hardly stopped adventurous Corda in the past.

  As she finishes her soup, Lay perks up, “Oh, you might not have enough of a grasp on English for the riddle contest if you get there. I'll try to expin them if you want. I'm gonna take a shower now, do you need anything?”

  “No, I do not be-lieve so.” It is just starting to dim outside, “we should pre-pare the n-ding once it is dark.”

  “Sounds good, see you in a bit.” Lay sets her bowl back in the kitchen and heads back to the bathroom, closing the door this time. Shortly, a quiet noise of running water filters through the door.

  I get my response, Capital support should be trivial. Human systems are not advanced enough to stop us, though detection is a minor risk. It is one which we are willing to take. The skyhook will have to be refitted manually in orbit before she can safely board. Do not rush, avoid mistakes, enjoy the company of a new friend.

  FC is still being a little patronizing, but I guess I’m the one lounging in a human domicile and enjoying their literature… Somehow, I get the feeling Joiner has already consumed plenty of Earth media.

  The riddles aren’t too bad with the nguage model we’ve built. Joiner sends corrections and improvements from their end every couple of hours and it’s getting fairly accurate. Looks like they just updated the speech synthesis. Audio/Video analysis must be coming along well on that front.

  Pausing for a moment, I consider whether I am more like Bilbo - a solitary figure by his own choosing, or Gollum - a pitiful ugly creature banished to the darkness and haunted by its own obsessions. I try not to think too hard about it, but worries and memories of the past come through. I close the book and stop, doing some exercises to suppress the pain. Though, I modify them with the touch of human linguistics.

  I am not defined by my lost stock. I am not just ‘a discarded scion’. I can choose to be greater than the mistakes of the past. I have value on my own. The future will accept me just as it accepts all.

  -

  A couple hours ter, and we’re back on the roof. The night sky still tinged with a hint of light. I think Wayward might be excited to try the link again, particurly since I'm a willing participant this time.

  They pce a couple of telescoping pylons around the roof as I watch, sipping some warm tea from a thermos. There was some mention of high altitude guidance drones, too? I'm guessing I won't be able to see them.

  A few of the ptes off of Wayward’s tool rig drop off and move into a triangle on the ground. They emit a soft, precisely pced glow, marking the zone for nding. “Lay,” they start, “stay away from the marked area or you might get hurt.”

  Honestly, I was surprised at the quick improvement in their speech synthesis. It was a marked improvement after I was out of the shower. It's not quite human sounding, and still monotone. It is a lot closer to talking to another Human, though

  I set up the wn chair while Wayward settles down a couple feet from me.

  “It should be on its way now, about five minutes” they say.

  I know I won't be able to see it, but I'm still watching the sky. Wondering about such a system. How do you make a cable long enough to go to space and strong enough to hold itself up?

  A question occurs to me- I ask, “Was there any specific testing you wanted to do?”

  The invertebrate considers for a moment, “The testing I intend to do will rgely involve being connected for long periods of time. I want to see how viable long term links would be.”

  “Oh? How long are you thinking?”

  “We will just be testing for days at a time. I pn to extrapote that data to even longer periods and report that information. There are Corda who treasure such links with host animals on our homeworld. I imagine they will be interested in the viability of earth creatures, human or otherwise”

  Technically they answered me, but I'm unsatisfied. I make it a bit more personal, “Are you looking to form a long term link yourself?”

  “The idea is appealing to me, yes, but…”

  A soft boom from above interrupts them, “That will be the skyhook entering the atmosphere. Any time now.”

  I catch myself giving the Corda a bit of a look before remembering that they have 360 degree vision. I try to act more casual but Wayward notices anyway.

  “I have been in long term links before. My st major union… It ended poorly for me. It was difficult to recover from.”

  I can't help but think of it as a bad breakup. I ask, “so you're wary of jumping into something you're not ready for?”

  “Yes. I fear going through that pain again.” Looking back at them, I can see a few eyes averted, their pose is a little awkward. I might have touched on a sore subject.

  I decide to let it go, and we sit in silence for a minute. I shiver a bit in the cold, pulling up my jacket. Wayward settles at my feet, like a friendly cat. Warm.

  “...Will we need to wait for the medication to set in?” I ask.

  “No, these will work at the same pace as your immune system. They'll suppress the histamine reaction. I also have my own to take.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mine are meant to trick your immune system. It mimics your body. It does cause a less inhibited connection, so we will both be a bit disoriented at first. We may have some exposure to each other's deep thoughts.”

  “I see,” I'll have to prepare in regards to my own depths, “I think I'll be okay… will you?”

  “Well, I've spent a few centuries learning to live with it- Look, here it comes.”

  An object drops out of the sky right into view, gently swaying above the glowing triangle. An egg shaped thing, about the size of a small refrigerator, composed of at most twenty metallic, curved panels. It's held aloft by a dark cable, stretching up into the night sky. As the cable pulls it in different directions from the breeze, I can feel the air vibrate from some unseen stabilizing mechanism.

  Wayward rises and moves next to the pod. Holding up one of their tendrils, a rger pte shifts aside to show the contents. On top there is a shelf with a few clear jars and a small box, like one a human would use for jewelry. The jars are filled with pills or a viscous fluid. The lower portion of the pod has a Corda-sized seat, and there are more of the segments that Wayward wears attached to the walls. Some of them click softly and exchange with the ones they’re currently wearing. Maybe they’re low battery or something?

  Grabbing the jars and the box with several tendrils, they announce, “this is all we’ll need. I’m sending it back up.” They move a few feet away from the pod as it closes. Just like that, it starts to rise up slowly, then speeds up. It disappears into the night sky.

  Looking up at the empty sky, I wonder, aloud, “How am I gonna fit in that thing?”

  The Corda makes a funny noise, like a low pitch chirp, “I’m going to refit it in orbit before you go up. It’ll take a day or two.”

  “I see. It’ll probably still be pretty cramped, huh?”

  “...Yes. Such is space travel with our limitations.”We discreetly move back down to the apartment. Given the earlier time of day we could actually run into another resident, though the top floor helps, here. Wayward sets the box and jars down on the table, except for two, one of which they offer to me.They instruct, “This will be easier if you y down again, though take a pill first.”

  Taking the jar, I realize I don’t know how to open it, before I even get to the question on my mind. “Uhh, this won’t interfere with my other medications will it?” I try twisting and it moves, though it doesn’t come off.

  Wayward holds a tendril out, offering to take the jar back, “it shouldn’t affect your hormones, and the effect on the antidepressants is minor enough that I can offset it.”

  Stubborn, I try just pulling the top off, which works. Embarrased, I grab a pill and put the lid back on. Setting the jar back on the table, I start to head to my room. “Should I be worried about anything else?”

  “No, though this is a testing period. We may run into unforeseen issues.”

  That’s not very comforting. I sit on the bed and look at them, “Just don’t hurt me any more than you have to.”

  A pause. They say, “I won’t. Lay face down, and try to rex.”

  I do so, and they climb up on the bed with me. Trying to remember the feeling of our old family cat walking over me, I try to keep still and rex while they get on my back. The second-skin stuff on my back has a light adhesive pull as Wayward removes it. I shiver a bit as they apply some ointment or something from the remaining jar they have with them. Hardly from its temperature, just from the unexpected feeling.

  I feel a numbness spread from my back around the point of entry. I try to rex as I can just barely feel their tendrils pushing in and contacting my vertebrae. It goes up my neck, tingling as it moves into the base of my skull.

  We’re being more thorough this time. We feel the fingers run up our cranium, settling into the gyri, the folds in our brain.

  It is like a soft embrace. A bnket on our consciousness. We… no, I

  I

  I… focus on the ceiling. Looking at the stucco, I realize I’m still face down. It looks a little different for some reason… I can see the mess I usually leave in the closet. That dress looks a bit wrong, though. Like the color is off.

  Oh god, I still have that fucking uniform. Maybe I should throw it away. It’s been years since scouts. Certainly some bad memories there we don’t need to bring back up. The patch looks off too…

  I reach a finger up and scratch the side of my head. I feel the tendril above my ear and realize just how weird things are getting now.

  The integration is pretty strong right now, and we’re a bit mixed up, we think.

  Oh geeze, are we one mind or two minds right now? We can figure this out, just don’t freak out about losing control. Not like with Arbiter.

  Who is Cascade?

  Who is-

  No.

  He is gone. There is only Lay now.

  We are stopped in our spiral.

  A moment. A minute. An hour?

  I am Cascade

  You are Lay

  I am Lay

  You are Cascade