And Shall Machines Surrender by Benjanun Sriduangkaew

Author:Benjanun Sriduangkaew
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-60701-533-8
Publisher: Prime Books
Published: 2019-06-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

The next day sees them at the heart of Luohu District. Orfea cranes her head back to take in the home that once belonged to the haruspex Nataku Contemplates a Flight of Sparrows—who evidently chose to take on his AI’s name—and which has been inherited by his wife, Zhu Lihua. Orfea wasn’t aware haruspices and humans could marry or that a haruspex’s assets could posthumously transfer. The home stands alone, a mansion with gates of antique gold and porphyry, the grounds covered by birches and aspens the color of scrimshaw. The front door swings inward: Zhu Lihua knows they are here and that she has little choice in receiving them.

“When the Mandate first established administration,” Krissana is saying, “they actually prohibited contact between human and haruspex. Literally human citizens couldn’t notice a haruspex, had to pretend not to see and hear them in public. That interdict was just lifted, oh, nineteen years ago? The marriages started pretty much immediately—there must have been a lot of illegal crushes around. Not many haruspices marry other haruspices, though.”

“Too many AIs in the mix?”

“No.” Krissana smirks. “Too much ego.”

The mansion’s vestibule is palatial, cedar-and-pyrite floor and curved stairs with nacreous balustrades. The hall is dominated by a pillar of granite and brass, illuminated by complex orbits of borealis radiance. It takes Orfea a minute to recognize that it’s meant to be a timepiece. Zhu Lihua herself descends the stairs in a high-shouldered gown, constructed like an iceberg that has been cross-sectioned and sculpted to the contours of her waist and hips, to her thick-wristed arms. “Operative Khongtip,” she says, gesturing for them to follow her. “Wonsul’s Exegesis has just come by to offer his condolences.” Her voice is stiffly correct and she leaves unspoken, So what more do you want.

“I’ve come to offer mine,” Krissana says smoothly. “We were acquaintances and worked together several placements back. I’m most sorry for your loss. Nataku was a fine colleague.”

“No doubt he was.” Lihua doesn’t call Krissana’s bluff—most likely Nataku’s haruspex affairs were sufficiently classified that it sounds plausible. She motions for the furniture, which unfolds and sprouts like fast-blooming lilies, in shades of damask and gilded cream. The seats are angular, the table an arrangement of ivory shot through with heliotrope. “I appreciate you coming.” She does not look appreciative. Her face is expressionless, bare of ornament save for a golden peony on her cheek that periodically opens and closes like a third, mutant eye.

Orfea picks a seat and settles into it, making herself inconspicuous. Lilac petals drift through the room, dissolving to holographic dust once they reach the floor. Music throbs at a low volume, pitched as if it coming from a great distance. She pulls up one of the protocols Seung Ngo has sent her, feeling out the domestic network node.

“I wanted to let you know you aren’t friendless.” Krissana leans forward, earnest. “We all respected him, and if there’s anything I can do for you, anything at all . . . ”

“I have everything I need, Nataku made sure I’d be comfortable.

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