Memory of a Free Festival

'Goodbye' was a luxury. 'Hello' was a trap.

Stella seldom got to say the former. It made sense; during times of war, most hellos only happened once.

She'd once told her ex-owner that 'hello' was far more painful to say. At least with 'goodbye', there was a sense of finality. He hadn't agreed. But it was true—to Stella, anyway.

After Shigure made a final call and 'they' came to pick him up, 'they' escorted him to a cab. This took five minutes at best. He didn't once look back at Stella.

One of 'them' stayed behind. He seemed friendly, but how could she possibly tell for certain? "Hello," he said. "I'm Isla Gray. Pleased to meet you! I'll be helping you out until we find a new social worker."

"Understood. Pleased to meet you, too."

"Great!"

Great!

Where he went, Stella followed. Isla Gray did not wear a suit. He had no scar from his forehead to his cheek. His hair was black, not blue, long enough to be slicked back with gel, but not tied. His voice wasn't as deep, and his musculature was less developed. He wore glasses—the first person Stella had seen who had those, come to think of it. A new hello. How long would this one last?

"So," Isla Gray continued, "From what I read of your past agent's report, you've been looking for a job, but due to the lack of experience, you haven't been able to get anything yet. Right?"

"Indeed."

Isla Gray held the ball line screen with one hand, tapped around with the other. "Seems like he opened a bank account for you already, which is good... wait, why do you refuse to connect to the network, Stella, dear?"

"Don't wanna. Don't call me 'dear'."

"Oh! My bad. It's just something we're told to do. So... hmm... that makes things a bit difficult. Sending online applications would wave a lot of time. I can't do it on your behalf."

"That's fine," Stella said. "I don't want a job anymore."

Isla Gray stopped. They were almost out of the park by then. "You don't? Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

"All right. In that case..." Tap, tap, tap, he went, and he walked again. Stella followed. "...already settled in... wellness check in progress? Eh, we'll take care of that later. It seems like one of your neighbors issued a petition for a 'welcome party'. That's also in progress... have you been introduced to our 'motivation' programs yet?"

"Yes," Stella replied. "Shigure showed them to me four times while inside the egg. Cab."

"Who?"

"Fuyukawa Shigure."

Isla Gray did not seem to know who that was. He mustn't say hello very often, despite—perhaps because of—his friendly disposition. Tap tap tap. He probably looked up the name. People strolled by. Slowly. Not Isla Gray (or Stella, who had to match his pace). "...oh, him."

"What's wrong with him? Why the intonation?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"Lies." Stella sat on the sidewalk. "Tell me."

Isla Gray stopped again. He looked baffled, or maybe happy. "Uh... sure..." Tap tap tap tap tap. Stella didn't stand up. Her tail slammed the concrete. "His file is public, in case you... never mind. So basically, since they're trying to get rid of prisons, they have these programs to try to fit high risk people back into society, right? But they usually do stuff like art or they help elders or something."

"And?"

"And... I don't know. I'd heard there was a high risk co-worker, that the AI alarm went off like... half an hour ago? Maybe? And it was due to your case. Must've been tough for you, huh?"

"No."

Isla Gray nodded slowly. "I see. Tough girl. I like it. Anything else you'd like to know?"

Stella knew he hadn't meant it in a bad way, but she took it in a bad way anyway. "What did he do?"

"...weeell... that might be a bit too personal."

"But you said his file was public."

"I know, but..." He looked away, a bit uneasy. "Can you stand up? I don't want to say it out loud. I'll let you read it."

Stella did. Since they stood in the middle of the sidewalk, people leered at them as they walked by, but Isla Gray didn't seem to notice. Perhaps he didn't care at all. As she dusted off her skirt and squinted, she found that, fortunately, his screen was in... english...? Reira had modified her language modules a bit, but it still took a few seconds to adapt.

Many seconds too adapt.

What were all those SYMBOLS?

"English hasn't changed much since the Last War, I think," naively spoke Isla Gray. "Has it?"

Yes. "No matter," Stella said. "It's all in the past. Forget about it. So? What's our current destination?"

"...uhh... I was just kind of following you."

"No. I was following you."

Isla Gray grinned.

Stella did not. "I'll go home, then," she said. "I'm fine now. Thank you very much for your services."

"You sure?"

"Quite sure."

"That's fine, then. In that case..." Tap. "...we'll leave orientation for tomorrow. It'll take a couple days to select your new social worker, but it should be on Saturday by the latest. Uhh... wait... how are you supposed to use your bank account without—"

"I'm not connecting to the network."

"—that. Seriously, why not?"

"Don't wanna." Stella crossed her arms. "Don't want the network don't want goodbyes don't want orientation don't want motivation don't want art don't want a house I just want a job and Shigure why is that so hard to understand? Why? Why is everything so strange and bad? Why? I don't understand. Why?"

"...aw, Stella..."

"Why did he leave?" Stella asked. "Why does everyone leave me?"

After a pause, Isla gray said, "We should find somewhere to sit."

"No."

"It'll help."

"I don't care."

Stella did not see his face to find out what the reason for the following silence was, exactly, but it wasn't as though it mattered; she couldn't tell emotions apart. Why? Because she hadn't been programmed to do so. She'd been built to fight a war for a cause she didn't care for, for people's she'd never meet, and for a future where no one said what they thought, did what they wanted, were what they wanted to be.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I did not mean to raise my voice."

"Oh, you didn't..."

"I didn't." She hadn't. She'd just wanted to say that. "Let's be friends."

"Uh. Um. Okay."

"Let's go meet my other friends. They have peach pie. Let's be happy."

If life was transient, so were casual acquaintances and friendships. 'Hello' would always be more common than 'goodbye'. At least one could choose to do the former.

***

Rebecca wasn't home.

Of course she wasn't home. Kou was, as Stella found out with her infrared sensor, but he almost certainly wouldn't open the door with Isla Gray around.

Thus, Stella took Isla Gray to her house, which was the reference point he'd used to track the neighbors in the first place with 'their' invasive software. He didn't take his shoes off when he walked inside. When she performed a backflip, he clapped. She did another one. "Everyone does that when they first arrive here," he said. "It's so funny."

"Why is it funny?"

"Oh, y'know. One sec. I'll tell my co-workers I'm here."

Like Shigure? Stella bit the back the question.

"Let's take a picture," Isla Gray ordered.

"...why? Why?"

He got close. Too close. He smiled at the camera. Stella's lips twitched upwards in a way that vaguely indicated positive feelings. After he took the picture, Isla Gray showed it to her, and she nodded, and he said people said good things about her. People? Strangers. Friends. Same difference.

Stella kicked the cushions off the couch before sitting on it. Isla Gray picked them up, placing them on the couch perpendicular to her own, after which he sat. He kept tapping—phone or screen. He smiled a lot. More than not.

"Can you help me with something?" Stella asked.

"Of course. That's why I'm here."

"What happened to my ex-owner?"

"Huh?"

"The person who owned me. The person I was owned by. The person who stopped owning me because he died. How did he die?"

"Owned?"

"Yes. Owned. How did he die? Can you help me or not?"

"One sec." Tap, tap. "Looking through your file right now. It says you gave consent for authorized personnel to look at it, so... hmm... I don't see anything."

"Why?"

"I don't—know? Because it's not here?"

"Why?"

Isla Gray shrugged.

"Why are there no elders?"

"El—"

"Elders. Why. Are. There. No. Elders. Why."

"Oh, like... the wrinkled ones? I mean. I don't know? Most people take anti-aging stuff these days. Why would anyone want to be old, you get me? And the thing with very old people—I'm talking bicentenarians—is that low gravities aren't good for their bones, and a lot of them don't want the surgery, either, 'cuz they're old fashioned and stuff, so they're mostly on Earth. That's why."

It made as much sense as it didn't, and it mattered as much as it did not. "I understand."

"Yup. Anything else you'd want to know?"

Nothing he could help with.

Unless...

"If you could choose to be whatever you want, what would it be?"