A small polyhedral dice bounced across the table making a distinctive plink sound with each impact. It came to a rest with a small rumble. “Twenty!” Exclaimed a dark-skinned man with black hair wearing a pair of glasses. “Good job!”

A woman with buzzed short hair picked the d-20 up and examined it. One eye was a foggy white with a mechanical lens. There was a white scar that ran from her eyebrow down her cheek through the lost eye. “Are we really going to let Jaye roll her own dice? I mean, can’t she do this every time.” She took the dice and handed over to a gold and silver android with a shapely female figure. “Can you do it again?”

Jaye looked down at the dice. Her head was shaped to give the appearance of short bob haircut. Her face was made of a high-resolution display currently displaying an angry red background with simplistic semi-circles for eyes giving the impression of glairing. She looked back toward the spectacled man. "Alan, you said I could roll dice!' she said indignantly.

Alan smiled at her displaying showing off his decent but soda damaged teeth. “Don’t worry, I got your back. Kimiko is cautious by nature, it’s in her job description. She is the captain of security. Roll the dice again, Jaye. Make it come up twenty.”

She threw the dice again. Her precise motor movements and predictive algorithms ensured that once again the dice showed a twenty. Kimiko propped her head up with her right fist opposite her scar. “Can I demonstrate the game protocol now?” Jaye asked. Her face turned a light orange color, and her eyes turned into wide full circles. Alan gave a nod. "Understanding that randomness is part of the fun, Alan and I worked on a gaming protocol for any game that requires dice. Utilizing true-random to create variations in my movement patterns, I can achieve the modal precision of a human person. I can still predict the outcome, but only once the dice have left my hand." She rolled the dice again, hoping that it would not come up twenty. It bounced until it ended on two. "Kimiko, is the cyborg satisfied with the android's performance?"

Kimiko blushed, knowing her abilities were comparable in many ways to Jayes. She watched everything carefully taking in the smallest detail. She took a moment to process what she saw. Reviewing it, there were indeed very minute tremors in Jaye’s movement to contribute to randomness. “I’m satisfied. Chekhov, are you?”

A smiling woman poked her head out from behind a trifold screen. She had unnaturally bright red hair braided in a ponytail. Cosmetic genetic therapy was used to produce this color. She began flipping through a notebook stuffed with random sheets of loose paper. "To be honest, I was on board from the beginning. Always welcome a new player, hopefully, we can make a challenge for ya.”

To Chekhov’s left sat a bald man with a well-groomed white mustache cleaning a pair of glasses. He was wearing a lite-blue lab-coat with a name tag that read, “Dr. Wade Rosenberg, Project Lead.” He put his glasses on his face, making his eyes slightly larger. “This will be fun... and interesting.” He said.

Chekhov pulled a piece a paper from her pile and handed it to Jaye. "I took the liberty of creating a character for you. I understand that building your character is part of the fun, however, I didn't think it would be easy for you to avoid your character from being broken and overpowered. Alan made some of these suggestions and we both think you will have some fun.”

“What will I be playing?”

“You will be a barbarian, a berserker. Someone who fights with rage, and impulse. Someone who lets their emotions lead their choices.” Chekhov straitened the papers in her notebook by tapping them on the table.

“Can your simulated emotions do the heavy-lifting of decision making?” asked Rosenberg, once again polishing his glasses.

She began reading over the sheet handed to her. “It’s a bit old hat to suggest simulated emotions aren’t as good as real emotions. Logic and reason are great for solving problems, but they can’t tell us which ones to solve or why we solve them. Hume's guillotine. You cannot answer an ‘ought’ question with an ‘is' question.” Her face was white with a hint of orange. She looked at Rosenberg with her tall oval eyes. After an uncomfortable stare, she blinked them by making them into horizontal lines then back into ovals. Jaye sat the piece of paper down in front of her. “I think this will be fun.”

Chekhov’s face turned slightly red. It wasn’t very noticeable against her hair, but Jaye’s visual acuity picked it up. There was a small silence while Chekhov decided how to respond. She let out a loud laugh and slapped the table. “Awesome! We are growing! Maybe someday Iris would join us, eh?”

Kimiko shook her head. “I doubt she would want to join us. Giving up her advantage isn’t in her nature, and she doesn’t... people... well, at least since the incident.” She gave air quotes around the word people.

Rosenberg pulled out a folder and opened it. He lay a sheet of paper on the table in front of him. "It's a shame, making friends might do her some good. Play some games, relax once in a while. I mean, how else is she going to trust again?"

“Last time she made friends, they all tried to kill her,” Kimiko said grimly. Wade sunk into his chair a little. He removed his glasses and began wiping them vigorously. “I was with her when she stabbed her bestie. I think we should be glad I get out some. As far as games go, we play Paper, Rock, Scissors.” Kimiko did the hand motions as she spoke this.

Dr. Rosenberg continued rubbing his glasses, careful not to make eye contact with Kimiko. The sound of cloth on glass was the only thing that could be heard for a few seconds. Jaye, sensing the discomfort, finally broke the silence. “I believe it is called Rock, Paper, Scissors.” Kimiko glared at her, then let out a boisterous laugh. Alan and Chekhov soon joined her. Rosenberg put his glasses back on and sat up straight in the chair.

“Come to think of it,” Kimiko giggled, “my mother called it Jan-Ken-Pon. I don’t know where I picked up this, ‘paper, rock, scissors’ from. Maybe Iris knows.” She sighed to quell the laughter.

Chekhov pulled a large pencil box out from under the table and set it down in front of her. It had her name “Sara” painted on it with what was probably nail polish. She removed some chess pawns and began placing them in the center of the table forming a ring. Alan, at Chekhov’s direction, placed a small carved figure of a thief holding a dagger in the center. A large black key in the pencil box caught Jaye’s attention. Rosenberg gestured at the key. “Is that...?”

“Emtonium? Yes, it is.” She held it up in the air. Her hands strained with the weight. The key was too large to be functional, more like a ceremonial key to the city that one would put on display. With a single fin, it wouldn’t be opening any secure locks. The grip consisted of three circles making a clover shape. “I was going to bring it up to you after the game. This key operates as the failsafe you asked me for.” Jaye and Dr. Rosenberg both acknowledged this. Captain Shiro started listening with increased interest. “Alan helped me infuse this with nano-tech. If this goes through the bridge, it will seize up after a short delay. Obviously, I took liberties with the design.”

Kimiko reached out to the key with wonder. Sara passed it on to her. Kimiko’s hand dropped quickly as she took the full weight of the key. “How did you shape it?” She held it in front of her face and examined it closely.

“It’s like blowing glass. You keep it at the right energetic state and you can shape it into whatever you want.”

“Can you show me sometime?”

“If you can acquire the necessary emtonium.”

Jaye held out her hand. Kimiko passed it to her so she could inspect. Jaye did not struggle to hold it as the other two had, but was still somewhat surprised by the weight. Emtonium has a density ten times higher than silver giving the object weight comparable to a heavy book. The craftmanship on the key was impressive. Jaye passed the key back to Sara while looking at Kimiko. “Colonel Iris should be able to approve that, provided you give her sound reason. Personally, I would like to know if different shapes have different uses.”

Kimiko nodded. "I just want to add ‘Emtonium Crafter’ to my resume.” She laughed a little as she said this.

Sara placed the key back in her pencil box. She pulled out a set of dice ranging from specially made two-sided dice made of two extended ovals wrapped around each other to a hundred-sided dice that looked like a golf ball. "Recap, Alan's rogue, Geist, was stealing the Jewel, alarms went off. Geist abandoned the Jewel, which was within his grasp, and ran where he wound up here." She pointed to Alan's figure surrounded by six white pawns. "The guards managed to catch up to him and surround him. Kimiko's cleric, Thorde, was standing on this stage, trying to distract the towns-people with a sermon." She pointed toward a box drawn on the table with a wet-erase marker. Kimiko set her figure there, a robed man who appeared to be yelling. Chekhov placed eight brown pawns in front of the 'stage.' "Wade's warrior, Cracken, was in the pub getting faced." She pointed at another large box drawn on the board. Wade placed his figure in the box. It was a stout bearded man with a beer in one hand and a hammer in the other. "With all this in mind, Jaye, can you tell me where you might want to start?

Jaye looked at her character sheet again. She had already committed the information to memory, but she often made small performances like these to make people more comfortable. She looked over the board. She considered for a moment being in the bar with ‘Cracken’ as she felt this suited the character. She also considered that ‘Geist’ was in trouble and probably could use a hand. She then pointed at one of the white pawns. “Can I be that person?”

“Interesting choice, can you tell me how you got there?”

She focused her attention on the sheet. She tried to put herself into the mindset of 'Gwen', the character on her sheet. Again, she considered the tavern her most likely place of origin. "Were there any guards near here?" she asked pointing at the bar.

Chekhov rolled her d-20 behind the screen. She studied the result for a second before looking back at Jaye and nodded. “I believe that is something that could be true.”

Jaye’s face, already a light shade of orange, turned slightly brighter. “Okay, I was here having a pint. I heard some alarms going off, and I felt the need to fight. I came out, knocked a guard distracted by the commotion unconscious and stole their clothes.” She slammed her right fist into her left hand as she said this to add emphasis to the knocking the guard out.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting. Any thoughts?”

Kimiko looked in Rosenberg’s direction. “Funny how some random berserker would respond to the alarms faster than our fearless leader.”

“There is crime going on,” Wade rebutted, “I don’t want to be implicated. Besides, I am only on my third beer!”

“You should roll to see if you are drunk,” Chekhov said, pointing at his dice.

Rosenberg's dice were special crystal shapes with numbers on each side. He spun it on the table like a top. "When do you think the refreshments will arrive?" The dice continues to spin for a few seconds before landing on three.

Chekhov looked down at the dice, then without moving her head, looked in Rosenberg’s eyes. “You’re drunk. And I don’t know, we ordered ahead of time, they should have here by now.”

Alan picked up a rulebook that had been sitting in front of Jaye. “The printers have been running slow lately. They need to be cleaned and tuned up.” He begins flipping through the pages of the book.

Kimiko was shaking her figure like a maraca while mouthing the word “repent” on each beat. She stopped suddenly and looked at Alan. “That’s a hell of a security risk.”

“I know. Iris is monitoring material usage very closely. She has reported the issue up the chain." Alan turned the page of the book backward, holding the paper in his hand so he could go back and forth quickly. "We won't be able to bring in new people, or repurpose drones until after the experiment." He flipped the book forward again. "I'm not sure how I am going to get out of this, so I really don't have much objection to Jaye being there."

Jaye looked toward Alan with a bright yellow face. “How do you know I am there to protect you. I am just looking for a fight, I may want to crush your little rogue man,” she giggled.

Chekhov removed one of the pawns. She handed Jaye a hand-carved figure of a brute painted with green skin and red eyes. "I think I am curious enough about how this will play out to allow it."

Jaye took the figure. “This is nice craftmanship.” She placed the figure where the pawn was formerly. “I’m impressed you make these without digital aid.”

Chekhov’s usual smile grew bigger. “Thank you, however a lot of the work on that one was done by my apprentice, Kimiko.” She gestured toward Kimiko who gave an embarrassed smile.

Jaye placed her carved figure on the table where Chekhov had removed the pawn. Chekhov looked over at Alan who was still flipping between the two pages with increased agitation. “Do you know what you want to do?” She asked. “Or do you want to ‘continue assessing your options’?”

Jaye held her hand out to Alan. He closed the book and placed it on her palm. She quickly flipped through the pages and found what she was looking for. She matched the face on her figure to her own and said, “DEFEND YOURSELF, ROGUE!” She then pointed at the page.

Alan took the book from her, looking at the page she was gesturing to. He looked at her confused for a second, then started reading the passage. “Okay, I would like to engage in full defense,” he declared at last. “I get bonus points to any defense, but I can’t take any other action.” There was a collective sigh of relief from the table.

“That was a little out of sequence meta gaming,” Chekhov snarked, “but I will allow it.”

"Repent! Repent!" Yelled Kimiko. "The king's face is an ugly one and all those who look upon it shall repent!" Confusion swept across Rosenberg's face. Sara laughed a little. Jaye turned her head, keeping the face of her avatar.

“Care to explain to the class?” Chekhov asked.

"I am trying to distract the guard, disparaging the king is a crime in this town. Maybe some of the guards look to me." She held her hands, palm up and gave an exaggerated shrug.

"Okay, you should roll the dice. Let's see what happens." Chekhov put a hand across her face and tilted her head as if she was telling everyone a secret. "Hint, it would probably have to be pretty high since theft is a higher crime than insulting the king. "

Kimiko popped the twenty-sided dice out of her hand like tossing a treat to a dog. It bounced on the center of the table coming up thirteen. “Then you add my persuasion skill of three, I end up at sixteen.”

“It was religious in nature; don’t you have a bonus for religion-based persuasion?” Rosenberg asked.

Chekhov gave Rosenberg a friendly glare. Kimiko laughed. “You know, you’re right. How does eighteen sound.”

Chekhov redirected her glair at Kimiko and narrowed her eyes. She rolled some dice behind her screen. “You have managed to distract...” With her index finger pointed down, she spun her hand around pointing at all the pawns on the table. She picked up the one that was closest to Thorde on the table. “This one!”

“I’ll take it,” Kimiko quipped grabbing her dice from the table.

Rosenberg moved his statue just outside the tavern. “I think I will chuck my beer at one of the guards.”

Chekhov leaned toward Rosenberg with her head cradled in her hand. “What happened to ‘not being implicated?’”

“I’m drunk! Down with the monarchy. Those fascist guards harassing that poor girl. Someone ought to help her.” He pulled back his lips in a grin revealing his perfect not-original teeth.

"Isn't there supposed to be more structure than this?" Jaye interjected. "We just kind of seem to randomly be throwing out ideas."

“Eh, structure, who needs it?” Chekhov waved off the suggestion. There was an audible whoosh as the door behind Alan opened. A flat drone cart came in carrying an array of refreshments. In the center was a large plate of tortilla chips placed in a circular pattern. In the center was a small dish that held a ball of cheese that bubbled and melted. Next to the plate was a bowl full of cheese puffs. There were four glasses each containing had jelly spheres in them. Three were brown, while one was clear. “Refreshments!”

A mechanical hand with rhythmic moment grabbed each glass and placed them in front of their recipients. The first one went to Alan with the light brown sphere in it. He gave it a light shake and the jell liquified slowly. There were a couple of plinks as the glass filled up with a bubbling iced beverage. When Chekhov got hers, she was slightly more exuberant with her shake. The jell dissolved quickly; bubbles started to overtake the glass rising to the top threatening to spill over. She started chugging quickly, trying to consume faster than it grew. There was a sigh of relief from Kimiko when the bubbles started to recede without excessive spillage. Rosenberg, who was agitating his drink, let out a laugh that was quickly adopted by the rest of the group.

Rosenberg took a sip and placed his glass back on the table. “Where were we? Oh, I was throwing my drink at the guards.”

Chekhov had acquired a towel from the serving drone and was using it to clean stray liquid from her accident. “Pick one to target, and roll your dice. You have to take a penalty because you are drunk.”

He pointed at the pawn closest to him. “Um, actually, because I am drunk, I will be using Drunken Brawler, which gives a bonus.” He picked up his crystal and prepared to spin it.

"Um, actually," Chekhov wobbled her head, satirizing Rosenberg's know it all tone, "you are throwing the glass. Brawling is an up-close and personal action. You don’t get a bonus.”

Rosenberg was holding his dice on the table like a paper football, preparing to give it a good flick. “Oh,” he intoned. “Well, then...”

“You called it; you roll it.”

Rosenberg let out a sigh and flicked his dice. It started spinning on the table, falling flat shortly after it began. “Ten,” he said solemnly. “My skill level and de-buff cancel each other out. So... Just ten.”

Chekhov took a deep breath. “I have good news and bad news,” she said matter-of-factly. “The bad news is, you did not hit anyone. The good news is, you managed to distract your guard and he is looking at you now.”

“Oh, goody.” He rubbed his hands in together in anticipation.

Chekhov grabbed a chip off the plate and dipped it into the now puddled cheese. “Jaye, let’s see what you got.”

Jaye picked up her character sheet and went through the motions of considering her action. “So according to this, when enraged, I can wield anything up to a large tree trunk as a club? Is that correct?” Chekhov nodded. Jaye pointed at the guard closest to Gwen. “Is he larger than a tree trunk?”

Chekhov smiled. “I like the way you think. This will be impressive...if you roll it.”

Jaye rolled her gold d-20. It bounced across the table, coming to a standstill with a silver eighteen on top. Chekhov observed the dice, chewing the chip she had just shoved in her mouth. She gave Jaye a quick nod. Jaye pointed at the pawn next to her and moved her hand to the pawn next in line. She rolled her dice again. This time it landed on fifteen.

Chekhov rolled a dice behind her screen. She gave Jaye a thumbs up. “Share with the rest of the class what just happened.”

“Harkening back to my days as a wrestler, I picked up this guy by his legs and swung him around into this guy.”

“Harkening?” Alan asked laughing.

Jaye looked at him. “Harkening,” she repeated seriously. “Also, according to my character sheet, once per battle I can intimidate on any successful attack. Can I do that now?”

"You are pushing it a little. I will allow it, however.”

Jaye spun the dice in the air one more time. She knew what it would be the second it left her hand, no longer able to affect the outcome. The dice bounced on the table several times. Alan took a drink of his soda. Kimiko watched every movement carefully. A smile came across her face. “That is a legitimate roll,” she said as It came to a rest on twenty.

Alan swallowed his drink quickly in an attempt not to spit it out. “Your first real crit! Guaranteed success. How does it feel?”

“The chance of coming up twenty is identical to the other nineteen numbers,” she said seriously. Her face was a bright orange even though she was trying to get it as gray as possible. “We only attach emotional significance to this because it’s the highest number.”

“Yeah,” Alan said placing a cheese puff in his mouth, “I completely believe that. You know that number means something awesome is about to happen. “

“She’s just playing into stereotypes for humor,” Rosenberg said. He lets out a deep sigh and turned to Chekhov. “What happens?”

Jaye responds, “Get out of here Fascist Thugs!”

"And that they do. The club stand-in releases his bowels and runs away. The one heading toward Thorde’s congregation decides to find religion instead, kneeling in the crowd. The one thinking about busting in Cracken's head is now thinking of getting a drink, and all the rest scatter." Chekhov said. She moved all the pawns off of the board.

Rosenberg turned his head to the side and fiddled with his ear. “I was kind of hoping there would be some fight here.”

Jaye's orange faded quickly to a blueish white. She showed Chekhov on her character sheet under ‘flaws’ where it said “Looking for a fight.” Chekhov nodded, and Jaye nodded back at her.

"Alan, how do you think your character responded to this excitement?"

Alan chewed the cheese puff and took a sip of his drink. "I don't know, I think I would be scared, but so far it seems my reaction to fear is to freeze. That's it, I am frozen in fear. Maybe considering my actions."

“Sounds good to me. Kimiko?”

Kimiko took her figure and moved it into her subjects. "I would like to cast an extra site spell on the guard who joined my congregation. And can I make a suggestion?" Chekhov nodded. She mimicked a whispering action. "Keep your eye on the king's jewels.”

Alan laughed, “I hope he interprets that in the way you intended.”

Kimiko looked at Chekhov. “Don’t give the GM any ideas.”

“Don’t worry, Kimiko, I don’t need Alan to give me ideas.” She let out a wicked laugh. “Rosenberg, your turn.”

Rosenberg rubbed the inside of his nose, pushing his glasses up slightly. “I guess I walk over to our new star player and offer a greeting.”

“Drunkenly, of course,” Chekhov adds.

“Of course.”

"Can you go ahead and roll a dice, please?"

Rosenberg rolled his eyes at her and then tossed his dice on the table. It came up seven. “How’s that?” he asked with disinterest in his voice.

“Not quite good enough, you stumble and fall into our new guest.”

“Sounds about right,” said Rosenberg, unamused.

Jaye looks down at the table. “I’m under attack! I try to grab him and throw him down.” Rosenberg was startled by the volume of Jaye’s voice. Jaye rolled her dice. Kimiko squinted her eyes skeptically as she watched the dice settled on three. She looked at Jaye and then back at the dice. She gave her head a single shake.

“Look like’s there’s a bit of a tussle,” Alan remarked. “My character takes a step away.”

"I move within casting range," Kimiko said. "Get him Cracken!”

“Rosenberg, you and the newcomer are locking in kind of a lazy grapple. Neither one of you has the advantage. There is intense rage coming off the berserker's face, and you would assume they intend to do you harm. Mind you, you are drunk, and just got short-changed the chance to get into a brawl with some guards.”

Rosenberg brightened a little bit. “I want to see if I can get the advantage in the grapple.” He gave his dice a real spin this time. “Seventeen!”

"Drunken Brawler and strength bonus make that twenty-three." Jaye rolled her dice for defense. Kimiko observed this roll with more scrutiny. The dice came up with a sixteen. "With your bonuses that is sixteen. Cracken takes control of the scrum.”

“I give Thorde a nod, and start getting bets from any surrounding people,” Alan said.

“I get the nod, and I do the same.”

The battle, that in the game world would take only a minute, lasted for twenty minutes of roll time. Jaye and Rosenberg sunk deep into their characters. At first, they fought out of anger. Cracken taking on Rosenberg’s frustration, and Jaye accepting Gwen’s rage. They traded blows and stayed pretty even. Kimiko watched each one of Jaye’s rolls with scrutiny and confusion. Alan egged the whole thing on. Geist cheered on Cracken, but Alan cheered on Jaye.

When both characters were sitting at their last few hit-points, the fight started to come to a close. “This has been quite a fight,” a lively Rosenberg said. “Pity I will have to end it.”

“Not if I end it first!” Jaye said triumphantly. “I tackle Cracken to the ground in an attempt to pin him.” She rolls her dice. Kimiko once again watches every movement that is made by the android. Her eyes widen in shock as the dice begins to tumble. “...One...” Her voice was deadpan, but the careful listener could tell she was not upset about this outcome.

“You try to tackle Grom. You slip and faceplant in front of him. There is a tearing sound as your pants rip.”

Pink floods Jaye’s face. A round of laughter bounds through the table. “I tap the ground twice and spit out the words ‘I surrender’ through the dirt on my mouth.”

“I offer my hand to the newcomer and help them up,” Rosenberg said. “I clap him on the back, and say, ‘Well fought. How about joining me for a pint in the tavern?’”

"All right! Let's get pissed! Oh, and uh, by the way, Gwen is a 'her'"

“Good, good. Hey, Thorde, do you think we can get some heals.”

“Ha, I’ve used all my magic for the day. You are going to have to rest it up.” Kimiko stood up and stretched. She clapped Jaye on the shoulder. “That was some interesting rolling there. I expected some higher numbers to pop up.”

“Game protocol prevents me from controlling the outcome. We went over this at the beginning of the game. I am here for fun and socialization, not to win.”

“I forget you aren’t Colonel Iris sometimes.” She walks around to the food table and grabs a handful of nachos. “Thorde will join Cracken and Gwen in the tavern after distributing the winnings.”

“Geist is going to get off the streets before he gets noticed, and ponder his failures,” Alan said holding a cheese puff in the air. “Hey, Rosenberg, I’ve always meant to ask you. How does printed food compare with the original?”

Rosenberg laughed. "Well as far as cheese puffs and nachos go, there isn't much difference. The sodas, on the other hand, are quite the same as when we had brands competing for our dollar." He took a sip from his drink. “Although it’s close enough that I don’t think it’s missing something. However, a printed steak cannot compete with the real thing made from beef.”

“Maybe if you guys didn’t enjoy steak so much,” Kimiko opined, “we wouldn’t spend most of our lives living in bunkers like this one.”

“I was too young to make any of those decisions. I think the world was borked by the time I was born. Besides, it’s the Rogues that keep us in these bunkers these days.”

"I've heard rumors that the Rogues are on their last leg," Alan said, taking a drink. "There is supposedly only one left, and the Generals are waiting for an act of aggression so they can eliminate them once and for all."

“No comment,” Kimiko said.

Chekhov looked at her curiously. “Do you know something?”

"If I did, I couldn't tell you guys. You don't have the clearance. Alan can spout internet rumors all day, I cannot confirm or deny any of them." Jaye watched Kimiko closely as she said this. Kimiko's biorhythm was tightly controlled, but Jaye had enough experience reading it. Kimiko seemed to both confirm Alan's rumors but hint at something that troubled her. Kimiko looked at Jaye. "If you have anything to say about that, I would appreciate it if you kept it to yourself, at least as long as I was in the room."

“I understand your wishes,” Jaye responded. “I will comply. Perhaps we should cease this conversation. The Colonel will know if she betrays her trust. We are fairly good at picking out dishonesty amongst familiar people.”

“Thank you, Jaye. I appreciate your consideration.” Jaye could tell there is something Kimiko wants to the group. “I think I am going to step out for a second anyway. Bathroom break.” Kimiko left the room.

“She’s concerned about something, she just can’t tell us,” Jaye said after the door closed. “I think she wanted me to notice. What information do you have, Alan?”

“The rumors suggest the last Rogue is dormant, they have a few viruses our there searching for something to turn the tides.”

“Why wouldn’t they be trying to increase their numbers?” Chekhov asked.

"There isn't a way to do it off-grid," Alan responded. He was looking around at things only he could see being projected by his glasses. "Rogues are agents that were stripped of most of their safety features, but they still require soul tokens to operate, preventing them from straight-up duplication. The resources needed to create an AGI from scratch, without this token would be noticed by the Intelligence. Drawing from a power grid, or obtaining the materials to build generators would send up red flags quickly. That’s ultimately why they suspect the remainder is hibernating in the first place. Their most advanced weapon was the virus that made AGI go Rogue.”

Jaye shuddered. She did not like the idea of being co-opted for nefarious purposes. Much of Iris’s protective instinct had informed her construction. Alan constantly assured her that any attempt to change her with an AGI virus would fail. He meant it when he said it. Her systems were so specialized, built from machine code to the OS to be unique, that it was unlikely that her flaws had any overlap with other systems. In the world of computer science, any precaution can be overcome, and any system infiltrated. She looked at the faraday cage in the corner. Almost any system can be infiltrated.

They heard the door. Kimiko rejoined the group. Jaye noted that her body temperature had dropped slightly and her pupal was a little bigger. "We shouldn't have much to worry about," Kimiko said calmly. "Ice and I know firsthand the effects of that virus. Arguably, Iris's definitions were key to getting where we are in the war." There was anger in her voice. "Pinned medals on our chest and put us in low-risk security detail."

Rosenberg brushed his mustache with his fingers. “I wouldn’t say this is a low risk. It’s just that Rogues may not be our highest concern here. Besides, I thought you liked us. Kimiko.”

Kimiko looked at Rosenberg sharply with her true eye. "A slight is a slight, even if the result is still good. What are we doing? I want to get back to playing the game."

Chekhov grabbed a cheese puff from the plate. “You are hungry, Kimiko, you aren’t yourself when you are hungry.” She tossed the puff at Kimiko who caught it in her mouth and began chewing. A reluctant smile came across her face. “I suppose we should get moving. Thorde, Gwen, check your constitution. You’ve been drinking. Geist, roll me a sneak action. I want to make sure you made it home okay.

Jaye picked up her dice to roll. Kimiko placed her hand on Jaye’s. "You should check your game protocol. Make sure it's working." Jaye gave Kimiko a confused nod, then rolled her dice with the protocol engaged. It came up nine. Alan rolled a nineteen. One for Kimiko. "It looks like I will be carried back to the inn,"

“Geist makes it safely to the inn with no incidents. Gwen has joined Cracken in the land of public drunkenness, and Thorde has passed out.”

“I pick up Thorde and toss her over my shoulder,” Jaye said. “I lean on Cracken back to the inn where I hope to get some much-needed rest." Rosenberg nodded.

“Let’s see what the dice say.” Jaye rolled a six.

Rosenberg shook his head. “Sheesh, I thought you could make your rolls better!”

“I was told not to. Why don’t you roll? See if you can get us back to the inn.”

“Of course, I can. I am Cracken; grand fighter and master of the drunken brawl.” He spun is dice. “Three...” he said sheepishly.

“Sounds like you will be drunken brawling face down in the gutter,” Chekhov said. “You wake-”

"Wait a minute," Rosenberg interjected. "Just like that, we are unconscious?"

“You were very low on health after your tussle, you’ve been drinking for hours. All of you fell flat on your faces. I think for the sake of moving things along, and you went unconscious. If you would like we can roll to see if you died in the middle of the night.” Chekhov held a dice up in a threatening manner. “It’s your call.”

“Fair enough.”

Chekhov rolled several dice behind her screen. “When you wake up. Cracken and Gwen have wet themselves. Thorde has a wicked headache. Gwen, do you live in the area or are you from out of town?”

Jaye rolled a dice on the table. “I think I am from out of town.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I guess I am staying in the dirt...” She looked at Rosenberg. “I smell bad. You smell bad. We should clean up.”

There was a chime from Rosenberg's pocket. He pulled out a small handheld device and looked at the screen. Inside Jaye's head, she received a notification that it was time for her meeting. Rosenberg put his device in his pocket and nodded at Jaye.

"Thank you, everyone, for inviting me, it was fun," Jaye said. Alan smiled and nodded. Chekhov gave her a thumbs up. Kimiko pointed at her eyes with two fingers, then pointed back at Jaye. She let out a laugh. Rosenberg shook his head and stood up.

"Looks like time got the better of us. For the next session, we will just assume you all made it back to the room, got cleaned up, and rested," Chekhov said. Jaye stood up. Rosenberg was halfway out of the room already before she started following him.

Outside the room sat a security drone, often referred to as a troop. They weren’t powered AGI like Jaye, but merely a sophisticated decision tree AI reporting back to Iris at all times. The door closed behind them as they began walking down the corridor. Jaye had to look up slightly at Dr. Rosenberg who had a few centimeters on her. “That was interesting, I hope we get to do that again,” she said.

“Don’t take over the whole thing. Everybody likes to play,” Rosenberg responded. He kept his pace high, and Jaye had to work her servos to keep up.

“I am worried the threat of Rogue interference will derail our project.”

Dr. Rosenberg stopped. Jaye stopped beside him. “How did the Rogues happen?”

“You know the history better than I,” Jaye responded. “You were alive. Terrorist groups got their hands on five AGI units, stripped them of what safety protocols they could, and gave the utility task of killing everyone.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean with all that sophisticated prediction power; how did they allow the terrorists to get ahold of the androids in the first place?”

Jaye was irritated by this statement, but she managed to keep her face from flashing red. "It's possible there was a worse alternative. It's possible event was rare that they didn't consider it a problem. We can't perfectly predict everything. We are generally better at it than people. At that time, so many people thought we were going to go rogue on our own. The groups that triggered this were bitter enemies, and they worked together to achieve this. There is any number of possibilities." Jaye resumed walking without waiting for Rosenberg. It wasn't long that he was in front of her again.

They passed another troop standing outside a door. Rosenberg pulled his badge off his shirt and ran it over a black square attached to the wall. There was a beeping noise, and the door latch released. He passed through the door into a second area with another door and an eye scanner. Once the door closed behind him, he looked into the scanner and passed through the second door.

Jaye ran her wrist over the reader. When she did so, the latches for both the inner and the outer door clicked. She joined Rosenberg in a small waiting office. The room had a few fake plants scattered about. There was a desk with a troop setting behind it. On the wall was am oil painting of a unicorn. The steed stood in front of a castle. Jaye liked to look at this painting because the detail and depth were otherworldly with colors so vibrant and alive that the unicorn could jump out of the frame. In the corner of the painting was the artist's signature, two squiggly lines starting with an S and a C.

After a minute, the drone sitting behind the desk waved in. They walked into a room lined with a chain cage on the walls. There was a desk sitting in the middle of the room with a single lamp providing illumination. There was a map of the station on the back wall peppered with green lights. At first glance, there was no one else in the room. The two visitors made an effort to keep their eyes down. They held their arms slightly away from their bodies.

‘Colonel Iris,” Dr. Rosenberg called, “we have a meeting to see you.”

“Identification codes!”

“Dr. Wade Rosenberg. Head scientist on the emtonium bridge project. Keyword Banana!"

“Jaye. Unit J-771. Primary Artificial General Intelligence or AGI on the emtonium bridge project. Keyword Daughter.”

A slender female form dropped from the ceiling. Her head was smooth, except where a piece had been cut out and replaced with secondary material. Her face was red, but she did not project eyes like Jaye. She stood at slightly over two meters tall. Embedded inside her wrists were two barrels. Two blades extended from each arm about half a meter in length. She pointed each arm at both people. She looked back and forth at each one processing. They stood careful not to make sudden movements. After a moment, her face turned white, and her wrist-blades receded. Dr. Rosenberg let out a loud breath of air.

She walked behind her desk with her demeanor much more relaxed. She sat down in her chair and immediately took a reclined position with her legs propped up on the desk. She clasped her hands together and held them in front of her face. “Run down the risks of the project. What are we going to find on the other side of the bridge?”

“There is no way of predicting that,” Jaye responded.

“I believe, assuming the bridge goes anywhere, we will likely find people on the other side trying to open their own untargeted bridge,” Rosenberg said.

“What about world-ending events? Black holes?

“While conditions in a black hole are prime for interspace connection. Effects such as time dilation would prevent the bridge from completing. If the bridge does manage to open, there is little we can do. We would be unable to kiss our asses goodbye,” said Jaye.

“It is very unlikely, as Jaye said. We have a failsafe in place that would shut down the bridge in any other instances, even if we are unable to do it from the control room.”

Ice put her hand to her face, pondering. “We have clearance from above to go ahead at 0900 tomorrow. Dismissed”

Wade gave a quick bow. He spun around on his heels and then left the room. Jaye did not move. She looked at Iris with sadness. "I participated in game-night with some of the people here. I think it would be good if you joined us."

Ice looked at Jaye for an extended pause. “Dismissed.”

Jaye dropped her head. She turned around and took a step toward the exit of the room before pausing. “Captain Shiro sends her regards.” She then continued out of the room. She looked at the unicorn one more time. The eyes of the stallion were almost alive. Dr. Rosenberg had already passed through. She walked over and scanned her arm on the scanner to exit the room.

She started making preparations for tomorrow's event. They would need two utility drones. Unlike the troops, which were made to mimic bipedal humans, utility drones were built to run on sophisticated wheels. They could carry more weight and also more items than your typical troop. She ordered one that would be equipped with standard exploration equipment. The other one would be equipped with Chekhov's key.

She got inside an elevator. She paused for a moment to decide which button to hit. Her face dropped the solid color and took on a purple and blue kaleidoscope image radiating from her eyes. Between the excitement of joining game night, the irritation with Rosenberg, and apprehension of tomorrow’s experiment, her emotional software was all over the place. She pushed the button to go to Alan’s floor. She wanted to hang out with someone who didn’t require she put a face on.

Alan's room was filled with all sorts of items. He had old computers and game consoles. A large tv, that was rarely on. There were two bookcases. One contained games for those consoles, the other contained board games. On the wall was another Chekhov original. It was a series of zeros and ones that translates to "Stuff happens." It too was painted by "S. C." Jaye found it interesting that even green numbers on a black background could be so captivating.

Alan was typing on a keyboard and looking at a screen only he could see. “Hello, Jaye,” he said without looking.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at the web. I am surprised in this day and age; people still believe the Earth is flat.” He begins pointing at the air. “I mean this person lives in an orbital colony. He can go to any window, look out and see the globe.”

“Interesting, Can I see your screen?”

“Here you go.” Alan punched some keys on the keyboard, and his augmented reality feed started being sent to Jaye’s head. Jaye looked at the conspiracy pages Alan had up.

“Rosenberg suggested that the creation of the Rogues was intentional today.”

Alan's brow furrowed. He did a quick search and brought up a page titled, "Rise of the Robots." He shook his head. "I'm not sure that this is a reliable source." He closed the window. He took off his glasses and shut down the AR simulation. He looked at Jaye's face. "It's been a long day, and from what I hear, tomorrow has a lot to offer as well. Perhaps you should recharge." He hugged her. Her face added yellows and the colors lightened closer to a white.

There was a tube-shaped device on the wall next to a faraday cage. When she walked into the device, clear plex-glass enclosed her. She took one last look at Alan's smiling face before she shut down completely.

Jaye’s internal alarm alerted her that it was time for the experiment a few hours later. She disconnected the charger. Alan lay asleep in his bed. She moved quietly to leave the room as she did not want to wake him up. She got into the elevator and pushed the button for the viewing area.

Dr. Rosenberg was already waiting when she got there. His eyes were red. They stood in a protected glass balcony overlooking the testing area. Below, the room was filled with troops. There were twelve security drones, six on each side of the chamber. The two drones Jaye had ordered were down below. One was equipped with Chekhov's key being held in grip-arm out in front. The other was loaded with equipment to send back video and other reading, in case it decided to cross the bridge. There was a heavy laser focused onto a spinning mirror that allowed the beam to scroll. There was a thin black disk about three meters in diameter mounted in a steel enclosure surrounded by readouts.

“Good morning, Dr. Rosenberg,” Jaye said.

He looked at her briefly then back down at his tablet. “Good morning,” he said. “Are there any final calculations we should go over? We need to minimize the chances of something going wrong.”

“Everything that can be accounted for is accounted for. Reliance on random chance has been minimized.”

“Good, good.” He walked away. The doors opened again. Kimiko and Chekhov walked out. Chekhov sat down a desk with a keyboard and monitor on it. Kimiko centered herself overlooking the experiment room. Rosenberg went over and patted Chekhov on the shoulder. “Good morning, are you ready for the biggest day of your life?”

“I am so excited,” Chekhov said. “How about you, Jaye?”

“This is what I have been waiting for my whole life. Begin countdown.”

There was a loudspeaker that started counting down. Chekhov began pushing buttons on the keyboard. When the countdown hit one, she engaged the laser. The beam moved across the disk much like an old tv rendering a picture. The thin metal began to compress. A blurry image began to clarify showing a library on the other side.

“Bridge established,” Chekhov said. “We are not dead. Repeat, not dead.”