Vivian's Secret Weapon

I decided to withhold the brutal details of the Greymoor family maid pummeling three grown men into the dirt. Yes, there were the broken bones and bloody bits that I would’ve preferred to avoid describing, but these were just a trio of generic thieves, delivered by auspicious circumstances into a maid’s waiting arms. They frankly stood no chance and deserved at least a shred of their dignity left intact.

“Are you feeling alright?” Vivian asked Guin after Emily had tied the unconscious bandits to a nearby tree.

“Y-yes,” Guin stammered, “I-I just wasn’t expecting…”

“Right,” Vivian sighed, “People don’t always expect your personal maid to also be your bodyguard. Consider it a closely guarded Greymoor secret.”

“My lady,” Emily said, “We should get back to the carriages in case there are others.”

“Yes, of course,” Vivian nodded, “Did you happen to see the person who alerted us? We should probably thank them.”

“No,” Emily shook her head, “There’s no one else around. I performed an essence search too, I haven’t noticed anyone.”

“Strange. Well, maybe it was the voice of my benevolent secret admirer or something,” Vivian quipped.

She wasn’t still on about that, was she?

“Wait, essence search,” Guin’s ears perked up, “Emily, do you know magic?”

Emily took a noticeable step back.

“She does,” Vivian replied on the maid’s behalf, “But she’s been timid about it since her lady is someone with no capacity for it.”

“Oh! I-I’m sorry, it’s just it’s still rare to find another commoner with any affinity,” Guin nodded, “I won’t bring it up again, Emily.”

At this point, I wasn’t surprised by these newfound revelations surrounding Emily, but I was curious about the voice from earlier. It wasn’t just me; everyone had heard the sound of someone shouting ‘Look out!’ to warn the women of the bandits. And just like Emily, I had seen no one in the periphery that could have even been close enough to shout so loudly.

And an inkling of hope brewed within me. I knew I shouldn’t entertain such thoughts, given how often I had been let down, but I couldn’t help it! There was no other causal explanation for the voice’s origin, and so I wondered the obvious question: what if the voice belonged to me?

Yes, it sounded different from my own voice when Diane visited me in my digital home, but that was from within the confines of the bracelet. Recorded audio could sound different from live audio. It made total sense that my voice in the real world had a different, perhaps even more attractive, quality.

The question remained, however, as to how to replicate it. I tried to speak again but to no avail. For all intents and purposes, I still didn’t possess anything resembling a mouth. That fact left me discouraged, but not wholly convinced. Either way, I let the issue rest, and watched over Vivian and the others as they made their way back to the carriages, where Stefan was waiting for them.

“Viv, I thought I heard some commotion. Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, Emily was with us.”

“Good. The main road’s getting rowdy. We’re planning to cross the creek here and stay at least a mile’s distance from the highway.”

“Is it the rebels?”

“No, just your average vagabond and thieves,” Stefan sighed, “News of rich merchants and undefended caravans fleeing the royal city is spreading quickly.”

“Well, do we know where we’re heading next?” Vivian asked.

“Yeah,” Stefan pursed his lips, “We’re headed to the Dimoski Estate.”

Vivian looked as if Stefan’s words had slapped her.

“Th-But Vladimir –” Vivian started.

“It was Vlad’s idea, actually,” Stefan sighed, “Let’s just trust him, yeah?”

“Let’s get going everyone!” John Greymoor called from the front of the carriages, “With luck, we’ll reach the Dimoski Estate by noon tomorrow.”

“He’s going to need you,” Vivian whispered.

“I know.”

“I’ll be in the third carriage tonight. Holler back if you need anything.”

“Wait. You want to be…in the food carriage?” Stefan raised an eyebrow.

“I just need some time alone.”

“...With the food?” Stefan asked, “Vivian, it’s okay, just say you’re hung-”

“Oh, go worry about Vladimir!”

The three carriages began to move again, now carving their own path under the cover of darkness. While the others slept in the first two carriages, Vivian squatted among barrels of preserved foods and held her bracelet closely to her face.

"It's been a while since we’ve spoken," she whispered to me, "Things got a little hectic back there, but we made it out, alright, didn't we?"

To be honest, while I felt enamored by Vivian's attention, part of this scene, which involved hiding away from other people and talking affectionately to an inert piece of jewelry, made me slightly uneasy. If it wasn't for the fact that Vivian sounded less like a rabid possessed monster and more like a soothing songstress, I might have worried that Vivian was unwell or that I really was some kind of cursed relic.

"I appreciate your patience, by the way, intentional or not," Vivian sighed, echoing familiar words Diane had mentioned to me, "I haven't received any new notifications or updates from you since the rebel attack, and I just wanted to say that I'm happy you didn't bombard me with distractions."

I guess redesigning Vivian’s user interface hadn't been on my mind. On one hand, it kind of concerned me that I had spent maybe the past 72 hours not thinking of pushing a graphic design update to production, but on the other hand, was not obsessing over that so bad? After all, Vivian just praised me for it.

"You know, back there, with the bandits," Vivian continued, "There was that shout that alarmed all of us. Maybe you heard it, too. And then, after all that, there was no one around? It's crazy, I know it is, but I couldn't help but wonder if it was you? And I found myself wanting it to be you."

I sure hoped so too, and I wanted nothing more at that moment than to edit Vivian's interface so that I could force the bracelet to blink in response. But Vivian had just spent a moment commending me on not interrupting her with pointless notifications, so I reluctantly held my hand.

"I know I'm most likely just talking to myself, but I've been thinking about it," Vivian said, "I know we had that little game of ours on the balcony to prove that you're really someone and not just some thing, but after today I can't help but feel that I was being unfair to you at that moment."

"Even if you are in there, my charming bracelet," Vivian sighed, "I think at that moment I was so vulnerable, and I was expecting you to be something like my savior, or maybe even worse, a romantic rebound. I know, romance with a magical bracelet, am I out of my mind? That’s why I’m here next to these smelly sausages.”

No, actually this was totally normal back in my old world. People fell in love with artificial intelligences, two dimensional animated characters, three dimensional animated characters. And fine, maybe I was the intended romantic rebound, I didn’t mind. At least it’s romantic. Back home, I never got to even dribble the ball!

“I guess my point is,” she said, “I’m done speculating whether you’re in there or not, because I’m doing you a disservice by projecting all these fantasies onto you. You’re just my charming bracelet from now on, and you’ve led me further than I could’ve managed on my own. That alone makes you deserving of my trust.”

Did I seriously just get friend zoned?

And then Vivian brought the bracelet (definitely me) to her lips and kissed it.

“And maybe my affections,” She cast a sheepish grin.

The emotional whiplash scrambled my insides,and I temporarily lost the ability to perceive the world. My auditory senses sputtered with static nonsense, while my omniscient visual feeds blurred with the saturated colors one might see on a successful Valentine’s Day.

I didn’t even get an opportunity to respond to Vivian’s advances, because once I regained my senses, I saw that Vivian had leaned back against a row of bread baskets and fallen asleep.

The Greymoors arrived at their destination the next morning, a few hours earlier than predicted. My mind was listless and I had spent very little time that night resting. Instead, I had mulled relentlessly over theories on how I could send the equivalent of a digital kiss.

In one word, the Dimoski Estate was uninviting. Pointed spears dotted the outer iron fencing. Monstrous stone statues with sharp teeth and fearsome expressions guarded the mansion roof, while dead trees and barren soil stretched across the lawn of the estate.

But it wasn’t the foreboding gates or the gothic architecture or even the dead gardens that gave me chills, it was the people who waited at the doors to the mansion. They all stared emotionlessly at Vladimir, who, along with Stefan gripping his hand, was the first to exit the carriages to greet his family. At the head of this group was a tall woman. Her eyes narrowed, and she spoke to Vladimir with hideous disdain.

“Vera.”