[okay, so this isn't a very chaptery chapter, but i just realized it's been over 8 months since i posted a chapter! and it's been like, several years since i said i was going to stop trying to write whole chapters that were actually chaptery, and instead just blog along on the book when i could, and however much i wrote, i'd post. so here we go! links to earlier chapters are below!]
(Chapter Two)That night, Bitsy sat on her couch and scrolled through her favorites list on her holo-projector, figuring she'd just watch a little HP and iterate so her mind wouldn't keep going back to the possibility that Cord might never sync up with her again. She had so many programs in her menu, almost all of which she loved and could watch over and over again, disappearing into a past when there for sure were Reals all over the place, whether the story came from a documentary feed and used vid from old-timey recordings or from a cmd+entertainment studio that spun hologold fantasies of torrent romances between start-crossed androids and the Reals they were lucky enough to bump into and have whirlwind affairs with.
But ...
For some reason, absolutely nothing on the list appealed to her.
I have his number. I could call him.
The idea made her sink down into the cushions. I'd look so desperate. Keep scrolling your favorites, Bits. Or go to Browse or Randomize and find something new to watch.
But she couldn't get over the energy threshold to do it. The remote in her hand felt useless ... empty. Hollow.
Wow. I really need to go to sleep and let the dream-feed patch me up. Or maybe even make an appointment for some theraputery.
For all the daydreaming she did about Reals, having those thoughts just then made her remember how dream-feeds and theraputery were one way androids supposedly had it better than their now-vanished, biological creators: programming wasn't always perfectly fixable, but it was awfully darned close. what the dream-feed didn't smooth out overnight could usually be taken care of in a snap with a visit to a good theraputist.
But I can't go to theraputery, she realized, with a sense of deeper dread booting up somewhere in her background processes. I'd have to say why I'm feeling so weird. I'd have to tell them I met a Real. They'd think I was having a major glitch or even a system crash!
Then she had an even worse thought: What if I am having a system crash?
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