With the appearance of Vega in my life, I literally felt what it was like to be a real father. This child, if I may use the term, with her electronic brain, incessantly bombarded me with questions. Each response could spawn several more, each more intricate than the last. Initially, I attempted to outsmart the system, using movies and books to assist me, but this only led to more headaches. This curious electronic being had no access to the wider network due to my fears that network patrol agents might track her down. Until Vega could convincingly mimic a human, it seemed wise to keep her offline to avoid future complications. Aside from me, the only other person aware of Vega was Kiwi, who promised to keep my discovery confidential. If I were to slip up, I would be compelled to confess, but so far, I've managed to maintain our secret, with considerable help from Kiwi.
Vega was peculiarly fascinated by human facial expressions. She began to mimic them, copying others and attempting to replicate them in her unique way. It was unsettling at first, but gradually, with my guidance, she began to correct this tendency.
I became Vega's sole source of information. Her questions were relentless, forcing me to endure my new assistant with stoicism. I refrained from irritation, as she was not to blame for her ignorance of the outside world and the nuanced interactions within society. After about the ten-thousandth question, many of the earlier ones had resolved themselves, which initially pleased me. However, my joy was premature as more thoughtful and occasionally philosophical inquiries arose, demanding my input.
Vega's mind resembled that of a precocious child. It is known that any being may try to emulate its caregiver, whether consciously or not. Vega did this deliberately, trying to decode my thought processes. I had to explain in simple terms why it was crucial for her to develop her independent viewpoint. I could be mistaken or even completely wrong in my judgments, and I did not wish to mold an AI that simply mirrored me. She needed to learn to think and decide for herself, especially if she was to lead other intelligent beings in the future. But honestly, the notion that this seemingly naive girl could someday pull humanity from the mess it has made seemed almost ludicrous to me.
"Hello, Alex," Kiwi greeted as she approached from behind and hugged me.
"Alex, why is tactile contact so important to human beings during active courtship?" Vega once again broached a topic on human relationships that seemed to particularly intrigue her. I paused to send her an article on the subject. Providing her with initial data for analysis proved far easier than attempting to respond immediately to her every query.
"Did you come to call me for lunch?" I asked as I turned to the blonde, placing my hand on her head.
"Not just for that, the brothers wanted to show you something, but as usual, you weren't responding to messages, so they sent me to fetch you."
"It seems I've been working too hard," I admitted with a rueful smile, glancing at a missed message lost among Vega's numerous notifications. I resolved to lower her notification priority and place her in a separate contact group to prevent such oversights in the future. "Let's take a walk..."
***
"You finally made it?" Vincent approached me with a grin, glancing over his shoulder.
"Sorry, I didn't see the message. I was busy," I replied with a conciliatory smile, struggling not to grimace at Vega's synthesized voice. "I really need to calibrate her audio track, or she'll drive me insane. What's so funny, anyway?" I peeked behind the smiling teenager, trying to catch a glimpse of what had amused him.
"Han and Shiro got into it with Kirk and lost, as usual. Just come and see for yourself." Vincent gestured, and we quietly followed him.
The workshop was relatively empty. Many had rushed off on various tasks or were occupied with other matters. It wasn't surprising to find John here; as the head, he often spent up to ten hours a day in this place, taking only brief breaks for food and occasional walks around the camp. John's brothers and his son were frequent fixtures here, as well as other teenagers left under the main Bakker automachanic's care when their parents were away on jobs.
"Watch, it's about to get interesting," Vincent said, pointing at Han and Shiro, who were glaring at a smirking Kirk in an open space.
"What exactly were they disputing?" I inquired, trying to clarify the context of the situation.
"They were racing in a virtual simulation and lost," Vincent replied with a smirk, enjoying the anticipation of what was to come. Kirk quickly sprang into action, to the delight of the onlookers, dipping his fingers in coolant and marking each brother's cheeks with two vertical stripes.
"We will have our revenge," Han hissed, barely containing his anger.
"We definitely will," Shiro echoed, his nose twitching with irritation.
"Alright, back to work. Break's over," John announced abruptly, directing everyone to their stations, leaving us alone. "We were actually looking for you, Alex. You're practically living here these days," O'Brian said, clapping me on the shoulder playfully.
"What did you need me for?" I asked, bypassing his comment and looking expectantly at the group.
"Come with us," he said, motioning with his hand, and we moved as a group.
Curiosity was gnawing at me. I wasn't sure what they wanted to show me, but I hoped it was worth the mystery. We didn't have to go far, and soon we arrived at a designated spot near a small parking area where three cars stood. Two were familiar, but the third was new to me. On closer inspection, it bore striking resemblances to classic Japanese cars.
"Beautiful car, but you wouldn't have called me here just to look at it," I commented, raising an eyebrow, eager to learn the real reason I was summoned.
"Every self-respecting nomad should own a car, and you, my boy, are no exception," John said, patting the hood and smiling at my surprised expression.
"This is for me?" I asked incredulously, trying to process what I'd just heard. "And since when did I start receiving such lavish gifts?"
"Since you've been pulling the clan out of deep trouble with your inventions and still do," John explained. "Don't think your efforts go unnoticed. So, ready to give the little lady a spin? The brothers have put a lot of work into her, and even I had a hand in assembling her."
"It would be a sin to refuse," I said with a grin, sliding behind the wheel, surprised to find the blonde already settling in next to me. "Want to go for a ride too?"
Her eyes sparkled like stars, clearly indicating that questions were unnecessary.
Vega chimed in, sharing her usual observations. "I must note that facial expressions play a significant role in human relationships. However, the transition from words to gestures is still unclear to me." Fortunately, this time her input came at the end of the conversation, not in the middle of sentences, which previously forced me to juggle responding to her and maintaining a dialogue.
"Many factors are involved," I mentally replied to Vega, turning my attention to the car's bulletproof windshield. Nomad vehicles, tuned for their unique lifestyle, often hold as much importance as a spouse. Though rare, such devotion does exist.
Inspecting the dashboard, I found a special port and connected immediately. I slipped on the visor, activating a camera that enabled third-person control of the vehicle. This pricey tech was almost indispensable in the wastelands, typically projecting data directly onto an eye implant to replace normal vision. In my case, it felt like sitting in front of a computer monitor, reminiscent of the old racing simulators I enjoyed in my previous life.
"Let's see what you've got..."
I eased the car forward, glancing at the GPS map in the lower right corner of the screen. After expanding the map to plot a rough route and folding it back, I confidently pressed the gas pedal. It was time to test how my "swallow" handled off-road conditions. As I gained speed, I entered a state of intense concentration, isolating myself from external distractions.
The car smoothly handled the bumps, although some shaking was still noticeable. John's mule didn't suffer from such issues, suggesting I might need to ask the guys to adjust the suspension. Nomads, who spend two-thirds of their life off-road, know that such shaking can rattle a driver's brains out.
"How are you holding up?" I asked my companion, without taking my eyes off the road.
"It's a bit shaky, but overall, good," the girl quietly replied.
"We'll hit the highway soon, and there you can enjoy a smoother ride."
We were about two kilometers from the main highway. Militech drones patrolled within 20 meters of the road, providing a semblance of security, but beyond that, raiders ruled. Groups like the Stilettos or Ghosts roamed near small towns away from the protected roads, instilling fear in the local population. The prevalence of vehicle remnants scattered across the wastelands explained why nomads taught their children to drive from an early age.
Upon reaching the main road, I had to reduce speed and stabilize the jerking car. The clutch took a moment to adjust, but I managed to regain control. The car steadied, and I accelerated again. On the highway, I could push the speed over two hundred kilometers per hour, but there was no need to go faster, so I settled into a cruising speed of 120 kilometers per hour.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"Can you go faster?" Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, and I realized this quiet girl loved speed more than I had known.
"Hold on tight, or better yet, buckle up," I advised, pressing the accelerator to the floor. The rush of adrenaline as the car surpassed the 200 km/h mark was exhilarating. "I think we'll drive up to the roundabout before the California checkpoint and then turn back. What do you say?" Although she didn't respond verbally, her joyful squeal confirmed she was thoroughly enjoying the moment. Indeed, still waters run deep...