her when she jogs up behind him. [I assumed you would need a pressure suit], he says, uncoiling his long arm to gesture. [So. Meet Eleven.]
She slows and circles him, the Widow in her insisting she keep a healthy distance. Before his angular frame stands another tower of metal even larger than he is. But where Hood is all flat surfaces and obscenely exposed tubes and pistons, this figure is all gleaming curves. From the stubby tripod of its three heavy legs to the top of its dome, this thing is easily twice her height and nearly all shining torso. There is no head, just a continuous curved surface broken only by two pairs of arms. One set is as massive as the suit itself; they emerge nearly three meters up the massive body and run down its entire length to rest on the deck. The other pair is smaller; they fold across a giant number 11 on its gleaming front. This is not a budget suit, that’s for sure, and for some reason that makes her trust this Hood just a little more.
As she watches, a ring of transparent light flickers to life halfway up this leviathan. The words AIVVTECH QUALITY IS WORTH THE WAIT orbit it a few centimeters out from its gleaming surface. And then, with a bone-shaking clang, the machine falls forward onto its two largest arms. Two spotlights pin her to the floor while the small arms on the suit’s front unfold and wave cheerily. “Hello!” booms a cheerful yet enormous voice that rings across the empty dock. “Thank you for choosing an AivvTech Universal Autonomous Environment! How can this unit improve your day?”
Sarya steps forward, shielding her eyes. “Um…hi,” she says when the echoes have died away. “Nice…to meet you?”
With a sparkling chime, a glowing SEE WHAT TIER 1.75 CAN DO FOR YOU begins orbiting the suit. “This suit contains a sub-legal auxiliary intelligence,” says the chipper voice, “but that doesn’t mean it can’t serve you well! For instance: are you tired of unexpected atmosphere evacuations and uncomfortable implosions? Does manually transporting your own body exhaust you? With the AivvTech UAE, these problems are relics of the past! Simply give this suit your orders and it will do the rest, and it can do so anywhere from perfect vacuum to crushing magma! And if you are looking for entertainment options then look no further, because—”
[Perhaps you could use this opportunity to open up rather than advertise], says Hood. [We must press ever onward.]
“It would be my pleasure!” says Eleven. Another bright tone echoes through the dock, and a dark horizontal groove interrupts the suit’s perfect surface. It widens, and then the front panel splits and folds open. The small utility arms become landing legs for the bottom panel, which lowers to the deck like a gangway. There is nothing inside the suit but smooth, red-lit walls. There are no seats, no handholds, nothing to get in the way of a potential passenger’s anatomy.
Sarya swallows, staring into that red cockpit, but the more adventurous part of her mind speaks up before she can change her mind. This is the actual moment, it says. This is when you reach out and seize your destiny. This is when you move from dream to action, from fourth shift at the arboretum to membership in a fierce and proud species. You will look back on this day and—
“Will we be placing the Human with the other prisoners?” says Eleven in its sunny voice.
Sarya takes a step backward. “The other—the other what?” she says.
And then she is seized from behind, because in her excitement about being Human she has forgotten to be Widow. Hood’s long and sinuous arm is wrapped around her, crushing her arms to her sides, and she is lifted from the floor. She opens her mouth but she is too shocked—too angry—to shout.
She is offered to the suit like a wrapped package, like a thrashing and dangerous animal at the end of a tether. [Next time, adhere to the script], Hood says, glancing around Dock A. [Which, I might point out, does not include either Human or prisoners.]
“Your feedback is important to me!” says Eleven. “I have logged it for future behavior modification.”
Sarya kicks in all directions, but more straps fly from the suit’s red interior and seize her. “Your comfort is of paramount importance!” thunders the suit, pulling her out of Hood’s grip and into itself like a predator devouring prey. It winds its