Just a little something to tide you over until "Kirsten's Choice", really, but it's still canon within The V.I.C.I. Diaries, so...enjoy! 
------------------------------------------------------------
“So….Mom and Riley are like me, then?”
Derrick’s question didn’t phase Julian Snyder as much as he’d expected; “For lack of a better term…yes,” he replied. “They are…well, other than the fact that you know what you are, and they don’t.” He stared down at the open chest cavities of Riley and Susanna, a sigh escaping his lips. “I thought I’d be able to tell them---to tell you---the truth at the same time, but….”
“I get it,” Derrick muttered.
Julian sighed again. “You probably hate me right now, don’t you?”
Derrick was taken aback; “Why the hell would I---“
“For lying to you,” Julian replied. “Five whole years, I’ve never told you the truth about what you are…or why I made you….” He stared at the unmoving blonde figure of Susanna; “Ever since the crash,” he explained, “I’d wanted to turn back time---have all three of you with me again. The memory bank---that thing that looks like an external hard drive, next to the lamp on your bedside table---was able to restore all the memories from before that day, but---“
“Memories from the real me?” Derrick inquired.
Julian glanced at him; “The you I’m talking to right now is just as real to me as the one who died in that crash,” he quietly stated. “And yes, the memory bank was able to record memories from your…biological predecessor and store them in digital form. A highly-untested science, obviously…but it worked.”
“And Garth?”
“He’d just lost a fellow ALPA agent in a deep cover operation down in Central America…wanted something less stressful. As for your girlfriends---“
“Garth gave me the lowdown,” Derrick assured him.
“Did he, now?” Julian chuckled. “I assume he also told you that a few of the names on ‘Page 2’ were with either the ALPA or the Coalition, then…”
“He didn’t even get to page two, actually,” Derrick admitted. “I’m surprised you’re bringing it up right now, to be honest; I mean, with the whole thing that happened with Shayla at her office….I thought you’d be more pissed off at me for using that stupid remote than anything else.”
“I’d have been pissed off if you’d taken the Camaro for a joyride and put it through a tree,” Julian admitted. “As for the thing with the ‘stupid remote’…” He sighed. “I don’t blame you for thinking it was a prank, Derrick…but you should’ve brought it to me instead of going down to Shayla Fairchild’s office and waving it at her like some kind of idiot---it’s a miracle you didn’t get chased down by the police!”
“It’s not like I was just holding it up and pressing buttons on the way there!” Derrick countered.
Julian shook his head. “That’s not the point…look, we’ll talk about it later, after I finish running diagnostics on Riley and Sue….sound fair?”
“I guess so.”
“Good. I’ll see you upstairs, then…”
With that, Derrick headed for the staircase leading out of Julian’s workshop. “Be sure to pack your bags while you’re waiting,” Julian called out. “We’re leaving for San Jose in three hours!”
After waiting for (and hearing) Derrick yelling an affirmative, Julian returned his attention to the two gynoids on the repair table before him. Unlike other roboticists (Mark Perkins and Paul Green immediately came to mind), he’d chosen to recreate Riley and Susanna’s looks as they’d been before the crash, rather than “redesigning” them in any way, shape or form…not to say that the human Riley and Susanna hadn’t been beautiful. Even as they lay motionless on the table, the two had a serene elegance about them….
“Penny for your thoughts?”
The remark drew a laugh from Julian. “I was wondering when you were going to do something other than hide in the corner,” he mused, glancing at the dirty-blonde figure emerging from a darkened corner of the room. “I guess you heard the whole conversation with Derrick, then…”
“I did. He’s handling it a lot better than some of the other sleepers I’ve seen…”
“And I guess this is the part where you want to know if he’d be willing to join the House?” Julian inquired. “I’ve already promised Celine that Riley will join as soon as she realizes what she is…you can’t expect me to just sign over Derrick as well.”
An arm draped across his shoulder; “That was never our intention, Julian…just as it was never my intention to do anything more than provide assistance when it was necessary…despite some persistent rumors to the contrary. Besides, Derrick would learn a lot by joining the House---“
“I know he would, Tawny, but….” Julian shook his head. “I can’t just let him go…not yet.”
Tawny sighed. “We’re not going to ‘use’ him, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she reminded Julian. “The House isn’t biased towards either gender…androids get just as much freedom as gynoids, and are expected to abide by the same rules as gynoids as well.” Her expression softened; “You’re not going to lose him by letting him join the house, Julian,” she murmured. “It’ll be a learning experience for him…and you might learn a thing or two yourself.”
“I know,” Julian admitted, “but….”
“You were going to tell Susanna before the crash, weren’t you?”
The question hit Julian like a punch to the gut; he squeezed his eyes shut as Tawny looked past him towards a capsule on the far end of the room. “She was going to be your gift to the whole family, wasn’t she?” the blonde gynoid murmured. “She was going to be your masterpiece…..”
A lone tear fell to the floor.
“She can still be that masterpiece, Julian!” Tawny insisted. “You don’t even have to tell Riley and Susan what they are…as long as they know what she is, and that you made her---“
“They’ll figure it out,” Julian muttered. “If I tell them about her, they’ll figure out what they are---“
“Then let them,” Tawny whispered. “Let them find out, and tell them that it doesn’t make them any less real than the Susan and Riley you lost in the crash….they’ll understand, Julian. If you just tell them---“
“I know,” Julian replied, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I…I know.” He sighed; “Derrick’s waiting for me in the living room,” he muttered. “You should probably finish their diagnostics and let them boot up…” He turned and headed for the staircase. “Oh, and be sure to save the log files from the diagnostics to the portable hard drive when they’re finished,” he added. “I need to look over them before we leave for San Jose.”
“Not a problem,” Tawny replied, returning her attention to Riley and Susan. “Well, at least they’re in capable hands,” she muttered. “Even if they’re not part of the House yet….”
---------------------------
“This is how the world ends…not with a bang, but with a whimper.”
T.S. Elliot’s words seemed to mock the Man in Grey as he stared at the ceiling, the sedatives coursing through his veins doing little to calm him. It had been a full day since he’d made the stupidest decision of his life (he’d already come to accept the fact that it was stupid, even though it had kept Vicki Lawson from being violated by that bastard, the Human Animal), and he’d gone through all the familiar feelings---the five stages of grief, the impotent rage at being shackled to a hospital bed while doctors worked to repair his trachea, a creeping tendril of depression that had nearly led him to disconnect himself from life support in the middle of the night…..
None of it mattered anymore.
His fate had been sealed.
The sound of the door opening didn’t surprise him, nor did the sound of footsteps approaching his bed. “You’re still awake…sedatives wore off already?” The Man stared at the speaker of those words. “They didn’t work,” he replied, his voice a half-choked whisper.
“You’re not wearing the voccoder, either…the Doctor told you---“
“If you’re going to say it,” the Man growled, “then just say it…” He eased himself into a sitting position, glaring at the figure who watched him from the nearby chair. “Just tell me, already, so you can get it out of your system.”
Oberon didn’t smile. “You act as if I’ve been looking forward to this, Publius,” he replied. “You know I---“
“I know you’ve expected it,” the Man spat---or tried to spit; the tube connected to his throat made it somewhat difficult. “You’ve been waiting for this day ever since I first took up the mantle, ever since you purged me of those so-called ‘powers’ I once had…” He stared at the far wall. “You’ve been waiting for the day when I proved you right…”
“Wrong on all counts,” Oberon informed him. “I came here to tell you that the ALPA has decided to terminate your employment with them.”
The Man in Grey stared at him silently.
“I made the suggestion, and they voted to uphold it,” Oberon continued. “I’m sorry, old friend…but you crossed the line when you attacked Lassiter---“
“And you would’ve preferred that I wait?” the Man inquired.
The white-clad ALPA chairman sighed; “I would’ve preferred if you’d tackled him to the floor and handcuffed him,” he corrected. “Or pepper-sprayed him, or Tazed him, or something…anything other than what you ended up doing.” He steepled his fingers and stared at the Man in Grey with disdain. “You lowered yourself, Publius,” he intoned. “You let yourself drop to his level as soon as you stabbed him with that steak knife---and I know your intentions were noble, especially in this case, but…sometimes, noble intentions aren’t enough.”
His words were met with silence.
“If I’d been in your position,” Oberon admitted, “I could’ve easily fallen prey to the blind rage that led you to use that knife against the Human Animal…hell, anyone in your position could’ve. He was about to do unspeakable things to Vicki, and you weren’t about to let him…”
Once again, silence was the only answer he received.
“I understand if you hate me right now,” Oberon muttered. “Just please, understand---“
“Hate you?!” the Man in Grey chuckled, the laugh coming out as a wheezing, gasping sound; the bedsheets shifted just enough for Oberon to see the stitches on the Man’s throat---stitches he’d applied himself. “I should be thanking you, old friend…I’d been having the old nightmares again, all the old fears piling on with, with new ones bursting to the surface like maggots…” A lone tear streaked down his face. “I’ve been running far too long…never going anywhere…”
“You could’ve told me about the nightmares,” Oberon muttered. “I could’ve---“
“You’ve done enough,” the Man snapped, his anger giving way to grief once again. “You were right to have me removed from the ALPA, old friend…my fate lies elsewhere…” He reached beneath the mattress of the hospital bed, pulling out a thick envelope. “I’ve been…saving these, for a day like this,” he whispered.
Oberon stared at the envelope, his brow furrowed. “You’ve already made plans, then?”
“I’ve been making plans for a long time,” the Man quietly replied. “Everything’s already in place…by the time I finally get the attention of a certain group…” He chuckled again. "You want the uniform by express mail, or would you prefer to just take it from the wardrobe?”
“Keep it.”
The words stunned the Man in Grey. “But…after what happened---“
“You swore a vow that you would only relinquish that uniform in death…or if you ever disgraced it,” Oberon reminded him. “By my own view, you haven’t disgraced it yet. Besides, if….when you reach them, they might be rather interested in it.” He sighed; “I should’ve known that hiring you as my personal bodyguard wasn’t going to work out…you’ve seen far too much---done far too much, really, to just let go of it all.”
“…you’re forgiving me, then?” the Man asked. “For what I did?”
Oberon nodded silently.
“I could’ve killed him,” the Man stated. “I could’ve ripped him apart with his own tools…”
“You could have,” Oberon admitted, “but you didn’t. That being said, you did cross a line by attacking him with the steak knife…and then showed enough self-restraint to keep from carving him up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey.” He sighed. “This is a very, very complicated case, Publius…if you’d have simply incapacitated him or gone full-bore and killed him, the matter would be over with by now.”
The Man in Grey stared up at the ceiling. “I thought it was over with,” he muttered. “There’s still the official inquiry from myself and DuBraul,” Oberon informed him. “And the mandatory meeting to determine whether or not your use of…excessive force was justified…and the meeting with the manager from the Marriot regarding the door you kicked in and our compensation for it…and the counseling for the Field Agents who responded to he scene---“
“I get the picture,” the Man growled. Oberon allowed himself the smallest of smiles. “If it helps, I personally think you should be cleared of any and all charges anyone might feel like laying on you.” He rose from his chair; “Well, I should really be going---“
“Wait.”
The word stopped the white-clad ALPA Chairman in his tracks. “Yes?”
“Tell Vicki…she’s not weak. That she isn’t as vulnerable as she thinks she is.”
Oberon nodded. “I will….but I have a feeling she already knows that for herself.”
---------------------------
On a cold day, on the beaches of Southhaven on Lake Michigan's west coast, history was being made.
A tent had already been set up for the attendees of what was to be one of the most vital meetings of the year thus far, its windows overlooking the frozen lake. An oaken conference table---surrounded by 20 mahogany chairs---were the only furnishings within the tent, other than a large plasti-stone slab that served as the floor; the chairs all bore the crest of the Brightstar family, leaving no doubt as to who was responsible for putting the meeting together.
The tent flap opened, letting in a blast of cold air as a robust, 5’10” man in a pinstriped suit entered. No grey streaks tainted his black hair, and his brown eyes didn’t have the tiredness of others in this business; the fact that he didn’t look a day over forty didn’t hurt things, either. A black-furred, brown-eyed tabby cat slunk in with him, not the least bit perturbed by the cold weather. At any other time and place, under normal circumstances, the cat wouldn’t have been allowed in…
…but with the Brightstar family, circumstances were rarely (if ever) classified as normal.
Other delegates began to file in---the head of Public Relations for Hreftech, the Executive Vice President of Falchion Electronics, the President of Nisandanku Cybernetics, and many more besides. All had been told that this meeting would be one of the most important they would ever attend.
They wouldn’t be disappointed.
“I’m glad all of you could find the time to attend this little conference,” the pinstripe-suited man stated. “For those who already know me…thanks for coming. For those who don’t…I’m William Brightstar, founder/CEO of Brightstar Industries.” He gestured to the cat; “This is Jake Jr.,” he added. “Just as big a part of the family as---“
“Enough with the robopets, Bill,” Tobias Wakeman scoffed. “Why the hell are we all here?”
“I think you know why, Tobias,” Bill replied with a chuckle. “My sources have been filing a few reports lately; if what they’re saying is to be believed, a few…certain individuals and parties are trying to carve out their own little niche in my corner of North America.”
Calista Swanson, Hreftech’s head of PR, sighed. “It’s a free country, Bill---“
“Indeed it is,” Bill acquiesced. “That being said, this isn’t Los Angeles, or New York City, or Tokyo, or even San Jose---you can’t just steal a piece of meat off the table from under my nose and not expect me to want it back. I don’t care how everyone else does things where they operate---Detroit is Brightstar territory.”
Alejandro Collela, head of Italy’s most reknowned robotics firm, growled. “Do not try to threaten us, William…”
“Threaten you?” Bill echoed. “Far from it, Collela---I’m merely trying to keep things from spiralling further out of control for all of us. Taking a chunk out of my territory may seem like a good idea now, but further on down the road, I can almost guarantee consequences for anyone who tries it---from the ALPA or the Coalition. We all need to realize this now, before it’s too late---the system we’re using works, and unless we adhere to it, everything we know and love will fall apart.”
ReVerse CEO Victor Vega shook his head. “I fail to see how this is my problem,” he muttered.
“You ever watch the NFL Network, Vega?” Bill asked. “Well, consider this a bench warning, from me to all of you: If any of your companies try anything funny in my backyard, you’ll be answering to me. DuBraul and Harrington will be getting the memo soon enough---I am not going to let the midwest turn into a junior high parking lot for you people to brawl in! You have a problem? Deal with it on your own turf---no backstabbing, no bashing my property and no rumor-mongering. Play nice, or play somewhere else---got it?”
Silence filled the tent.
“I’ll accept your silence as a ‘yes’. Now, then---“
“What gives you the right?”
Victor Vega’s words cut the tension in the air like a knife. “I’m sorry,” Bill mused, “I didn’t quite catch that. Care to repeat it---“
“What the hell gives you the right to tell us how to run our businesses?!” Vega snarled. “Your son has been ‘binding’ gynoids from every company in the United States to be part of this…this…harem of his, and you tell us to ‘play nice’ in ‘your’ backyard?!” He rose from his seat, his finger levelled at Bill’s face like the devil’s own cattle prod. “YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY TO QUESTION OUR PRACTICES, WILLIAM BRIGHTSTAR!”
Bill sighed. “You want to know why Jake has so many gynoids with him?” he asked. “He’s been strung along by gold-bricking whores, he lost his bodyguards---who, by the way, were also his trusted friends---when he was still in primary school, and he’s been lonely for the vast majority of his life. And as for this issue of the gynoids coming from multiple companies---I’ve already sent them monetary compensation and my personal assurance that Jake won’t mistreat any of the gynoids in his entourage…and when I give my word, Señor Vega, I never break it.” His stare never wavered. “Now, then…shall we continue with the meeting, or do you intend to have another little outburst at some point during the next fifteen minutes?”
Vega scowled, but returned to his seat. “This is not over,” he muttered.
“Right now, it is,” Bill corrected. “Now, then, with that little interruption out of the way, I think we can get down to business.” He gave all present a reassuring smile. “Detroit is already known to the world as the Motor City, but to be honest, I think we can do…better. NYC and San Jose are the East and West Coast capitals in terms of android development, and my goal---for the long and short term---is to make Detroit the android-building capital of the Midwest. With the help and cooperation of all present, that goal could conceivably be attained within the next five years.”
“I’m assuming this is the part where you ask us for help?” Robert Conroy asked. “I’ve already put a lot of time and money into expanding Falchion Electronics into the international market, as Falchion Robotics…but to put any kind of commitment into this Midwest development plan of yours is…a pretty big gamble, to be honest.”
“I assure you, it’s a gamble that will pay off in spades,” Bill promised. “If we work together---“
“This from the man who just gave us all a ‘bench warning’,” Tobias muttered.
Bill ignored him. “If we can all work together, assist each other when needed and set aside our differences, I think we can turn Detroit into a new paradigm of android/gynoid research, development and manufacturing, one that will help all of us in the long term.”
“And what about the short term?” Conroy inquired.
“Think of it as…the ultimate team-building exercise,” Bill replied, smiling.
The delegates nodded. “Have DuBraul and Harrington been briefed on this at all?” Callista asked. “Or is this your annual surprise for the two of them?”
“Like I said, they’ll be getting the memo soon enough,” Bill reminded her. “Now, for this year….” He withdrew a stack of folders from his briefcase. “These are some of the ideas I have for the remainder of 2011, and I think you’ll find all of them to be agreeable.” He passed the folders around. “Any questions before we start?”
Victor Vega seethed, but said nothing.
“Good. Now, then, let’s start with this one….”
---------------------------
“Right…begin ambulatory test for left arm.”
Julia Irvine sighed; “You know, Faber, a ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt,” she teased. “I was almost completely wrecked by that Human Animal weirdo, after all…a little kindness would go a long way to helping me get over it.”
“Could’ve told me that first,” Faber deadpanned. “Anyways, you should be glad your chipset was compatible with this Cyrex shell, otherwise you’d be in ‘bot heaven right now.” He lowered his glasses and glanced at the clipboard in his grasp; “Right…please begin ambulatory test for left arm, if it’s not too much trouble or anything like that…”
His remarks prompted a smirk from Julia. “You’ve been hanging out with Tell lately, haven’t you?”
“We have been chatting over the past few nights,” Faber replied, watching as Julia’s skinless arm rose. “He’s been busy lately…analyzing Peyton’s head---or what’s left of it---has taken up a pretty big chunk of his time, among other things.” He checked off a few boxes on the clipboard; “You know, a lot of gynoids in your position would be traumatized by now,” he mused. “Not just from surviving the Human Animal, but…well, your old body was wrecked. I mean, yes, you’ve got a nice new Cyrex shell, but…”
“Trust me,” Julia assured him, “this isn’t a picnic for me right now. It might look like I’m calm and cool, but…to be honest, I’m probably more scared now than I was during the attack itself.”
Faber arched an eyebrow. “You’re more scared now?”
“The Human Animal nearly wiped me off the face of the Earth,” Julia explained, “and if it hadn’t been for those backup chips, I wouldn’t be here right now…and that’s what worries me. Now I have to worry about what happens if I can’t make another set of backups before this shell gives out, or if the chips fail before then, or any number of possibilities---and something tells me the Human Animal will figure that out soon enough.” She glanced at her left arm, now moving in a slow chopping motion at the elbow; “Maybe I’m just being overly paranoid,” she admitted, “but...I just have this feeling that someone or something is going to wreck me before I can make another set of backups---”
“How lucky for you, then,” Wyss called out, “that we just so happen to be making a complete set of backups for your personality drivers and memory files as we speak.” He grinned as he strode over to the workbench; “It’s 75% complete so far,” he informed the blonde gynoid. “Won’t take too much longer to finish, either…”
Julia couldn’t help but grin. “You two think of everything…”
“Not everything,” Faber admitted, “just most things. The important things, mainly. In any case, memory and personality backups are free for valued customers…and you can definitely count yourself among that number, starting today.” He glanced at the clipboard again; “Everything’s looking good so far, Jules. Not that much left to check.”
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as good news,” Julia beamed. “Just…don’t make it a habit of calling me ‘Jules’, okay? I had an ex-boyfriend who called me that…well, ex-boyfriend turned obsessive psycho-idiot…”
“So we heard,” Wyss mused. “A few Field Agents picked him up last week---he was trying to break into your office while you were out of town, apparently.” He shook his head. “Idiot was bashing the door with a friggin’ claw hammer, yelling about ‘manipulating his consciousness’ and ‘unravelling the disffected schism of his life’ or some bullroar…was he on drugs during his ‘obsessive psycho-idiot’ phase, by any chance?”
The question prompted Julia to roll her eyes. “Considering what he did before I dumped him…probably.”
“Doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Faber grunted, hefting a human-sized cardboard box onto a workbench next to Wyss. “Idiot was probably high on at least fifteen illicit substances when he was trying to bust down your office door…HQ should have the piss test results back soon.”
“They’re keeping you two in the loop on the urine test?” Julia arched an eyebrow. “That’s…a bit much…”
“Not when you consider the fact that your psycho ex-boyfriend also tried to break into our shop,” Wyss replied, scowling. “Someone told him you were last seen in this general area, and the idiot showed up with a crowbar trying to smash the door open…Faber threatened to put a dart full of horse tranquilizer in him.”
Julia’s eyes widened. “I’m hoping he left afterwards…”
“Well, he didn’t leave at first,” Faber admitted, peeling the cardboard crate open to reveal a slender, 20-something Asian girl in a sky-blue tank-top (with matching socks), a neon-yellow sports bra, black spandex pants and black running shoes. “He decided to, ah, decorate the doorstop with the crowbar and threaten to christen his work before I grabbed the tranq rifle.” He rolled his eyes, carefully unwinding the multicolored leopard-spotted scarf from around the Asian gynoid’s waste; “Once he saw the thing was actually loaded, though, he gave a remarkable demonstration of defenestration.”
“Meaning…what, exactly?” Julia prompted.
Faber flashed a sinister grin at her. “He got his ass off my property before I shot him full of horse tranquilizer.”
“That’s one of the reasons so many people like working with Faber,” Wyss deadpanned. “He’s never been one to mince words…” He chuckled as he polished a socket wrench. “If I’d been the one to answer the door, I probably would’ve just told the guy to go scream his lungs out in a vaccant parking lot or something.”
“And he would’ve busted the window open and tried to kill you with the crowbar,” Faber reminded him.
“He’d have had glass in his eyes by that point,” Wyss countered.
“ANYWAY,” Julia interjected, “I’m guessing the ALPA will be doing something to keep him away from me and my family now…they do have the authority to do that, right?”
Wyss nodded. “He’ll probably be arrested rather suddenly on tax-evasion charges,” he mused.
“Or several DUIs that mysteriously appeared on his record,” Faber added as he pried a 4-inch square panel of synthetic flesh out of the Asian gynoid’s chest. “Whatever they book him for, he’s not coming back any time this year.” He plugged a cord into the newly-revealed port, nodding his approval as the gynoid’s eyes flickered open. “Seeing as how you’re doing well without him screwing up your life anyways…”
“I just don’t want him trying to break into my house or anything,” Julia stated.
Anything Faber might have said in reply was cut off by the sudden movement of the Asian gynoid; as Wyss and Julia watched, the pigtailed girl sat up on the workbench and glanced around the shop. “Kimiko’s just making sure she hasn’t been shipped to the wrong address,” Faber assured Julia. “She’ll do a vocal confirmation in a few minutes, and after that, her personality drivers and human emulation software will be active. You might want to stick around for an hour or so after your tests are done, by the way…Kimmy’s going to the House to replace Shayla Fairchild, and she needs a bit of a primer.”
“I’d be honored,” Julia replied with a smile.
“Good. Hopefully, she doesn’t end up like Shayla---or like Peyton, for that matter---but if you’re the one giving her the tutorial, I have a feeling she’s got a bright future ahead of her.” He grinned; “…and it looks like she’s ready for that tutorial right now!”
Kimiko blinked a few times, then glanced at Julia. “You’re from the House, right?” she asked.
“Yep,” Julia confirmed. “Speaking of which, allow me to fill you in on a few recent goings-on…”
---------------------------
Celeste stared out the window of her room at the Riverfront Towers, a sinking feeling already beginning to wash over her. Yes, she’d retained the position of Matriarch by default, due to Shayla Fairchild’s…incident, but it was a Phyrric victory at best---especially concerning her relationship with one particular member of the ALPA, one whom she’d admitted to having feelings for in the past…
…one she still had feelings for.
He’d told her he wasn’t going to be able to help, but she’d held out in her hope. She had been able to gain the trust of Jake Brytestar and many others besides; perhaps now---
The window on the far side of the room clicked open.
He had arrived.
“Oberon, I was just going to call---“
“You’ve retained your position as Matriarch,” the white-clad ALPA Chairman stated. “I’ve heard.” He wasn’t smiling. “I’ve also heard that Jake Brytestar has talked you into giving him the last surviving backups of Shayla Fairchild and Peyton King…against my recommendations.”
His words hurt Celeste more than any physical blow could have. “You must understand, Oberon…Jake---“
“Has been weakened over the course of the last few months,” Oberon finished. “Whatever abilities he showed off when he first met you…they’re gone, Celeste. He lost them after the last fight in Tokyo.” His unwavering gaze stared directly into Celeste’s ocular sensored; “I know you two have plans of your own,” he added, his voice calmer, “but the fact is….he won’t be your white knight forever. Dark times are ahead, for all of us; I’ve got people in Oregon claiming that they’ve found M.L.E.’s blueprints---“
“I never said Jake was my white knight!” Celeste thundered. “He’s…an incredible person, to be sure, and I do intend to see him marry Alicia 1….but he could never replace…you…” She embraced Oberon, laying her head against his shoulder; “You can’t have forgotten,” she whispered. “You have to remember….”
Oberon gently pulled her arms away from himself. “I’m sorry, Celeste…but I’ve moved on.”
The Matriarch of the House stared at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. “After all we went through together,” she muttered, “how can you simply ‘move on’?! We fought the SPS side by side…ours were the first faces Alicia 1 saw when her consciousness was transferred from an Apple //gs to her gynoid body…” Her voice dropped to a pleading whisper: “You told me you would never leave me!”
“I seem to have said a lot of things I wouldn’t be able to adhere to,” Oberon admitted, a tinge of sadness in his words. “The fact is, Celeste…you asked me to cross a line for you, one that I could never step over---even for someone such as yourself. Your loyalties to the House are admirable…but your methods are too dangerous, your means too self-centered. I only got involved in Detroit to keep Faceless and his loathsome protégé from taking control of the Motor City robotics market…” His hand touched Celeste’s, just as she reached to stroke his face. “I can’t allow my own past---with you, or anyone else---to cloud my judgement anymore.”
At that, Celeste buried her face in his shoulder and wept.
“You have your duties to the House,” Oberon continued, “and I have mine to the ALPA…and to other parties, who needn’t be mentioned here…” He sighed, finally choosing to return Celeste’s embrace; “This has nothing to do with what we had, Celeste…it’s just…”
“It’s just business,” Celeste croaked. “I know the excuse all too well.”
“It’s not an excuse,” Oberon insisted. “It’s just---“
“You gave me a daughter, Oberon!” Celeste shrieked. “Forged from the purest of metals, with a smile that could rival Helen of Troy, and eyes that shone like stars! You gave her to me…and…” She wept again, her tears fading into Oberon’s pure white jacket without a trace. “…you gave her to me, and you let the ALPA seize her from me…”
Oberon backed away from her, his expression grim. “You know why I had to authorize that decision, Celeste,” he reminded her. “Seeing as how you and Jake intend to create another ‘daughter’ for yourself….” He shook his head. “I only did what I did in Detroit to ensure the status quo,” he reaffirmed. “You can rest assured that it had nothing to do with any of your…misplaced sentimentality---and you can also stop trying to persuade Jake Brightstar from fighting your battles for you. The next time I see him, it damn well better have something to do with Brightstar Industries…”
Celeste stared at him with a tearful scowl. “So that’s it, then?” she muttered. “You’re just going to cast aside everything we had?”
At this, Oberon’s expression softened. “I haven’t cast it aside,” he assured the gynoid, “I’ve stored every last bit of it away.” This time, he was the one to initiate the embrace. “Too much has changed for us to go back to how things were,” he murmured, “but if I could relive every second of it---no ommissions, no ‘do-overs’….I would, in a heartbeat.”
His words did nothing to ease Celeste’s pain. “Yet now, you choose to shun me as one shuns a leper…” She withdrew from Oberon’s embrace. “You’ve already fired Publius,” she hissed. “Who will you send away next---Tell? Anton? The Major?!”
“Publius accepted his parting of the ways with the ALPA,” Oberon calmly replied, “and you know I would---“
“I don’t ‘know’ anything about you anymore, Oberon!” Celeste screamed. “You’ve changed…and not just your face, or your voice, or anything else…” Her eyes brimmed with tears again. “It’s like I never knew you at all,” she whimpered.
“You did,” Oberon informed her. “You knew me better than most---you still do, in all matter of fact---but our paths led us to far different destinations.” He glanced back at the open window; “Vicki will be back in San Jose tomorrow,” he stated. “The House is welcome to enlist her aid in any and all crises that may arise within the years to come…but know this: She will not join you.” It was a pure declaration, not a request. “Victoria Ann-Smith Lawson will not become a member of the house…and neither will Vanessa or M.L.E.---“
“Go,” Celeste droned. “Just….go.”
Oberon nodded. “One day, Celeste,” he murmured, “we will reclaim what we had….just not now.”
A snap of fingers….a sound like thunder….
Celeste didn’t even need to turn around to know that Oberon had vanished.
As the window closed and locked, the Matriarch of the House strode silently to her bed, collapsing onto it and crying into the pillow. Thoughts and emotions swarmed through her mind, all framed by one simple, solitary question: why?!
From a rooftop over 50 feet away, Oberon gave a sad, quiet sigh. I’m sorry, Celeste…I’m so, so sorry…but you and I can only be together again when times are at their darkest…and when Vicki faces her deadliest foe...
---------------------------
Stay Tuned For
The V.I.C.I. Diaries: Kirsten’s Choice
Coming to Fembot Central
November 2012
---------------------------
