"'kay." I slip the glasses off of my face and tuck them into my neckline so that he can still see everything. I put the aviators on my face and go over to where everyone is waiting. John looks over to me and I give him a nod to signify that I'm all right. I'm not. But there isn't anything he can do about it. Instead I go stand over by Dirk.
"Sup."
"Sup. So, like AR?"
"Yea. He's in there."
"Wow."
"Yea."
"I could build him something."
"I'll ask him later."
"'kay."
"Is everyone ready?" Jade calls out. Everyone nods and in a flash of light we are transported off of the meteor and back onto the ship. We land in the cafeteria which is good because of the space we'll need to care for the wounded and there is food here. And food is necessary according to my now vocal stomach. Those who can walk are divided up into medics and chefs. I'm a medic with my experience gathered from patching myself up from strifes with Bro. I can almost hear a 'I told you so' coming from the glasses but they stay silent. Once everyone is patched up enough that they aren't bleeding on any tables and everyone is fed with sandwiches and left over cake (rest your soul, Nannasprite), we all retire to our rooms.
I set both pair of shades on the desk and take a quick shower in the connected bathroom, washing the grime of battle and mock hospital ward off of my skin. I can feel fatigue creeping in but it's not there just yet and I'd rather not leap into horrorterror sponsored dream bubbles any sooner than I have to. After drying myself off, I pick up my usual, comfortable record shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and Bro's shades. Then I curl up in the bed, pulling the sheets around me in a very trollian nest-like structure.
Doing okay there little bro?
"What do you think?"
I think you'll be able to handle it.
It's the Strider way.
We handle anything.
"Except unbreakable katanas to the chest."
Okay.
I'll give you that one.
"Dirk uses katanas too. He reminds me a lot of you."
I could see that.
He looks like I did as a teenager.
Probably a little younger than when you showed up.
"He's sixteen."
Sounds about right.
Though people called me terse.
What's up with him?
It's like his words are precious water.
And he's in a desert going on ten years.
"Fifteen."
Huh?
"Remember the part where I said Dirk and Roxy were the only ones left alive? They were literally the only humans on earth. And they didn't even live together. He didn't have much chance at conversation outside of instant messaging."
Huh.
I suppose he's doing well then.
"Yea. He's pretty cool. Does the whole irony thing too."
Cool.
Who's AR?
"His autoresponder. Like you. Made an AI from a captcha of his brain about four years ago. He diverged from Dirk though." I paused to think that over. "You don't feel like you've diverged from..." How do I phrase that. 'The real you,' 'the other you,' 'the dead you.'
He/I kept myself updated pretty often.
And it's not like I could wander off.
Didn't have anyone else to talk to either.
I was the safety net for him/me.
I am the black box that records the pilot's last words.
Which are statistically oh shit.
"What were his? Yours? Fuck this multiple persons shit. I thought I had it handle between my time shenanigans and Dirk's splintering. Alpha Dirk not you Dirk."
Chill.
Trust me.
It's weird enough that he is dead and I'm still here.
But I.
I have his last words.
Saved as an audio file.
They are to you.
If you got a laptop and a plug.
I can play it for you.
I freeze up. Do I actually want to hear that? The last words, the last breath of my Bro. I could save him which basically means that I killed him right? I let him die. Might of well had my hand on the handle of the sword that plunged into the white polo shirt.
Incessant pinging brought me back to the screen.
Dave.
Dave.
Dave.
Dave.
Please calm down.
Don't freak.
It's not cool.
"I'm not freaking."
Yea.
You are the epitome of cool.
I can read the sarcasm in the digital words.
Your poker face is pretty good but I can always read it.
You don't have to listen to it.
Not now at least.
I have it saved.
Just think about it.
You don't have to.
Especially not right now.
Honestly.
You look like shit right now.
And need your sleep.
I'll be right here.
We'll talk later okay?
I nod numbly, softly cognizant of the fatigue threatening to swamp me. "Good night." I put him next to my shades and curl back up in the pile of sheets.
