Alive
Book 2
Pt4
1
"You don't want to push her, David. Take your time. Be gentle. She looks tough but she's really fragile. You're fragile too. You are young and impulsive. Rush into things too fast and you will make mistakes. People will get hurt."
David didn't respond. He was thinking. Calculating.
"David! Are you paying attention to what I am saying?"
"Yes, yes. I heard everything," he said impatiently. "We've been through all this."
"That was just a simulator. This is for real," said Ariel. He sat back and let David take the controls again.
"Take her up to 500 feet," Ariel said. "Slow and steady."
David scrolled the thrusters, feeling the craft respond instantly. He moved slowly beyond the Cybertronics building, out over the water and over the top of the great weeping heads of the Watson Towers. The sky above was a clear crisp blue, the blinding golden eye of the sun dampened by the polarizing effect of the Stratocruiser's canopy. Ahead, the sunken towers of Manhattan were darkened by each other's shadows. David banked away, headed for the open ocean.
"Forward at 80 knots," Ariel said.
80 knots? David thought he was ready to take her much faster than that. But he wasn't about to complain. He scrolled the thrusters and felt the craft jump ahead.
He was flying! Flying!
The words of a poem came to him, one that he'd chanced upon while browsing the works of 20th century poets.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings!
Once again David experienced an excitement he never could have felt in his former life. The sensation of flight had been just data then. Only his implanted love for Monica had been more than precisely calculated responses to stimuli.
But this? This was way better than any simulator! No digital trickery could catch the feel of the g-force pushing him into the seat, the way the hum of his thrusters rode up his back. The gut level thrill of climbing into the sky.
They'd only been airborne for about twenty minutes so far. Ariel had been impressed with how well David handled lift off and hovering. They'd practiced stop and go maneuvers to allow David to feel the difference between the simulator and a real craft. Now they were flying circles over the training pylon set atop the Cybertronics building. The pylon set a digital training course, monitored his training session and threw up an occasional virtual problem for him to overcome.
David had to suppress an urge to whoop for joy each time he banked high over the weeping lions and arched out over the open ocean to come around again. He tried to keep his eyes ahead, as he'd been instructed, but couldn't help but sneak a peek down onto the roof of the Cybertronics building when they passed.
Amanda was down there, appearing like a little toy in the distance, waving her arms as he whizzed by. David fought the urge to wave back. Ariel would scold him and Amanda wouldn't see him from this height anyway.
"We're moving into another bank, David. Did you check your FPI?" Ariel said.
"All clear," David said, setting his gaze ahead before Ariel noticed he wasn't looking and scolded him. The Flight Path Indicator was a short range training radar, that told him if anything was in his path, or might be passing through the path he had preset for coming out of the bank. When he was licensed and official, he would be logged into a central traffic hub and would know exactly who was where at all times. But as a student he would rely on short-range onboard indicators.
"If all is clear, then what's that?" Ariel said.
David glanced at the meter on his panel. It was glowing faintly yellow at 2 o'clock.
"Ahh!" David moaned. Something was coming in slowly from the southwest Whatever it was wouldn't be a danger yet, but the computer was telling him it could be if he didn't reset his course. Probably a shuttle, he thought, since no commercial airliners were allowed over the city. It could be as far off as 10 miles. But that distance could close quickly.
David adjusted his wheel, hoping the warning glow would go away. But instead, it started flashing bright amber and the Stratocruiser's navigation system warned him in a soft voice:
"Traffic alert. 1 o'clock at 5 miles and closing."
"What-what-what?" David yelled. How did…?"
Ariel made an oddly human sigh. David hated that sound. It was the sound of disappointment.
"Set her to auto," Ariel said.
"Hold on, Ariel," David said. "It's just a minor calculation. I'll correct it."
"Set her to Auto, David," the Mecha pilot repeated.
He didn't yell. He didn't need to. His tone of voice said it all.
David clicked on the autopilot and felt the Stratocruiser slow as the training pylon took over and made slight adjustments in its course. The amber light stopped flashing, changed into a faint glow and then disappeared. The craft picked up speed again. It came out of the bank smoothly and shot quickly over the water.
"Alright, slow her down," Ariel said.
"Sorry," David said. He took the craft out of auto and slowed to a hover. "Don't know what I was thinking."
"You weren't," Ariel said. The Mecha pilot twisted in the seat to face David, a stern expression on his face.
"I fly as a function, David. It is my task. I neither like nor dislike it. It is what I was designed to do. I do it without passion and I do it well.
"You, on the other hand, fly for enjoyment. And because of that, the thrill you get from the sensation of flight can be a distraction. Focus! Put the thrill aside and concentrate on what you're doing, or someday you will find yourself in trouble. At 500 feet, that's not good. At 5000 ft there is only one kind of trouble… and that is bad trouble."
"Oh, c'mon, Ariel," David chuckled. "I know I'm not ready for altitudes yet. It's my first day. And it wasn't a collision alert. Just a traffic warning. I just made a little miscalculation."
Ariel slammed his open hand on the dash. David pulled back, surprised by the Mecha's aggression.
"There is no such thing a little miscalculation," Ariel yelled. "You're right or you're wrong. It's the same as the difference between alive and dead!"
David was perplexed. Ariel's anger was inappropriate. In some quarters it would be considered illegal. But he quickly realized that it must have been something Dad programmed; a little personality tweak, to make sure he would take things seriously. And he also realized that Ariel would surely be recording everything that happened, so Dad could review it later.
"Sorry, Ariel" David said. "You're right. I wasn't paying attention. I won't let it happen again."
But the Mecha wasn't finished with whatever scolding routine Dad had implanted.
"This is not a toy, David. Once you're an adult licensed pilot and the training restraints are removed from your thrusters, this craft will be able to break Mach 1. At that speed there are no small mistakes. We were only in training mode and you still caught a warning alarm. Then you adjusted straight into the projected path of the object. You make an absent-minded mistake like that at cruising speed, and you're not coming home. Ever again. Understand?"
"Understood," David said obediently.
"I hope you do, because I don't want to be the one that tells your father his son went down."
"That'll never happen, Ariel. I promise." David said. He knew he was really speaking to his father. "Let's go for another bank. I'll get it right this time," he said.
But Ariel shook his head.
"Enough for today," he said. "Practice on the simulator and we'll give it another try in a few days"
David was ready to argue, but decided it would not be the best course of action. He scrolled the thrusters gently and began moving slowly towards home. As they neared the Cybertronics building, he could see a small shape by the landing pad on the roof. She was dressed in bright blue, jumping up and down and waving her arms over her head.
Ariel gave David a knowing glance.
"And perhaps the young lady can find something else to do when you're training. It should help you keep your mind on where you're going."
David made a sheepish grin.
"Ok," he said.
"Good," said Ariel. "Now let's see how well you can land her."
2
Ariel was right. Amanda had become a distraction. But even though the Mecha pilot was one of his father's finest personal creations, and functioned with degree of cognizance and sentient simulation exceeded only by the 'David' and sister line, 'Darlene'; Ariel still wouldn't have sensed the budding relationship between him and Cybertronics' new teenage resident on its own.
No. Dad had put that data in its head.
It had been a week since the conversation with Amanda in his room the first night she'd arrived. At first David had wanted to tell Grace about where he'd first met the girl, about that night she'd found him among the rejects, set to be destroyed; about how her father's curiosity and stubbornness had played a part in his survival. But in the end, David decided to keep it to himself. Even now he wasn't sure why. Perhaps he felt it would color Grace's opinion of the small King family, the father and daughter that had once destroyed Mecha for a living. And David did not want that.
Since she had arrived, he had come to realize how little he knew about the lives of regular teenagers. They'd been something outside of his experience and, thus far, out of his concern. Theirs was another realm, far beyond the watery horizon, beyond the ceaseless rumble of the lions, where Orga youth roamed like brightly feathered birds, dancing, fighting and loving, engaging in their mysterious transactions and intrigues.
And now, in the presence of this girl, for the first time he was wondering what he might be missing out on.
Who were they, this bright flock whose language and fashions evolved at a pace too quick for even the best minds of science to equate, or even follow? Like the ones that mobbed the trendy inland clubs that he was not yet allowed to visit, the ones that gathered in cyberspace at the sites his father had disallowed him in fear of his being discovered by those who might wish him harm. The ones whose tweets and videos he occasionally eavesdropped on, and then quickly became bored with the superficiality of it all.
But had he misunderstood them?
Perhaps they just looked superficial from a distance, like watching someone dance in silence. With the music off, it all appeared as the frantic gyrations of a mad man. But with the music up, you understood the rhythm that drove them and the melody to which their faces so comically contorted. Perhaps if he understood to what drummer they danced, he would understand them.
He did have some inkling. He was a boy after all. A 'real' boy now. His flesh felt the same pains and pleasures. His blood ran hot or cold with the same passions, and his heart beat with the same desires.
But he was an outsider. Aloof. Unattached. Alien.
His head was filled with theories, equations, and philosophical pondering. He spent silent hours watching waves crest and break against the foot of his Manhattan home; watching flocks of birds form and disperse above the silent towers; ever looking for a hint of meaning in the seemingly random patterns they formed. He paced his room at night, reading aloud to himself from the works of Kant and Siddhartha, Shakespeare and Kerouac. He played games with his Mecha brothers, and formed pet theories on the processing of their maturation to true sentience. Often he simply lay abed, Teddy by his side, losing himself in the works of Bach and Beethoven, Stravinsky and Bernstein.
But he'd never even danced with a girl. Apart from that single kiss from the Wiz Kid, which still loomed large in his sense memory, he'd never felt another's lips on his.
Had he come all this way; donned the mortal cloak of flesh and blood, just to become another sort of simulation?
Sure he looked like a teenage Orga. But it was as if he was from another world; or another time. His favorite music was centuries old. The books he cherished part of a literary tradition that was all but lost to the modern age. Even among his friends and the scavengers with whom he shared some time, he was barely more than a spectator. They were older, world-worn, most having only a rudimentary education. They loved him and he enjoyed their company. But none of them lived at the frothing edge of society, where creatures like Amanda roamed.
She was an enigma to him. In her company he now understood how little he knew about the fairer gender. And more importantly, about himself… about how 'unordinary' he really was. He often found himself at a loss for words in her presence.
Like the day after her arrival, when she'd found him on the roof. He'd been standing in the faint rays of dawn, silently watching flocks of birds gather and disperse over the sunken buildings of Manhattan. Autumn was coming on, and the air was already chilled. Cool breezes washed over the rooftop, carrying the distant call of gulls, and the crisp salt tang of the ocean.
"You're up early," David had said, loudly to compete with the rumble of the lion's tears. He was surprised and happy to see her. She was wrapped in a large coat, hugging herself against the morning chill.
"How do you know what time I usually get up," she'd replied sleepily. "Making assumptions, are we?" There was recrimination in her voice, but a smile on her lips, which had yet to be painted for the day. Later David would notice the importance of appearances to her, and that she usually applied her makeup before even leaving her room. He would have once thought this simple vanity, but over the days he would come to love this about her.
"No assumptions," David had said. "I just thought you'd be sleeping in on your first day."
Amanda stretched and yawned. David tried to pretend he wasn't watching her every move.
"I was raised in a traveling circus," she said. "Everybody was up before dawn. So, for me, this is sleeping in."
David hummed an acknowledgement and returned to watching the flocks of migrating birds. Amanda sat quietly next to him for a time, before inquiring what he was up to.
"I'm looking for reoccurring patterns," David replied. He then explained that he was seeking predictability in the forming and disunity of flocks of birds. He went on to explain the basic tenets of Chaos Theory, the principles of randomness in organized systems, and then told her his budding theory about how living systems might display similar predictable patterns.
"Living systems would have the same type of predictable responses as non-living. Like, an avalanche of rocks rolling down a hill would follow a certain predictable course based on things the terrain, um… gravitation, angle of decline … stuff like that. They would also have a high degree of randomness due to unpredictable events… like the angle one rock hits another, which causes that to hit another and on and on; which eventually affects the course of the whole avalanche.
"But rocks aren't alive. They don't desire to roll down the hill." He stopped and faced her. "Did you know that was once a scientific theory? When science was young that is; some had theories that inanimate objects had will?"
"Fascinating," Amanda said with a strange smile. David found himself lost in it for a moment.
"You're being sarcastic,," he said in what he hoped was a humorous tone.
"No," she said with convincing sincerity. "Please. Continue."
David paused a moment, then continued.
"Living systems, birds for example, would have similar predictable and unpredictable patterns, but based on a different set of rules. Stimulus and response as opposed to the pure physics. Since birds are aware and capable of changing their behavior, the flock patterns display the democratic will of the flock. So you'd need a different model for the randomness in their organization."
Amanda hummed appreciatively.
"Like trying to understand why one song is a hit and another a flop, even though they use the same rhythms and the same chords," she said.
David was surprised by the beautiful simplicity of the analogy.
"Exactly," he said. "Predictability in trends of fashion would be pretty much the same as in flocks of birds."
"And I just thought you were enjoying the morning air," Amanda said.
David laughed.
"It's not really a theory yet," he said, "more of an idea that's still forming."
"So what do you intend to do with this theory… or idea or whatever it is," she asked.
David shrugged.
"I don't really plan to do anything with it," he said "I… I just want to … to understand."
Amanda stared at him, her face expressionless. David stared back, waiting for her to make some snide comment about the way he was squandering his rich kid status. But she only rose and yawned and suggested that breakfast was in order.
And thus had their relationship continued over the days. He, going about his usual business, his studies, his lute, his exercise and working on his Mecha brothers; and she doing her studies during the day, spending dinner time with her father in the spacious rooms that had been allotted them, and chatting with her inland friends at night, on the sites that had been approved by Cybertronics security.
Their chance meetings were comprised of stiff halting conversations, where the gulf between them was obvious.
Then he had woken one morning with her on his mind. And she had stayed on his mind all that day; distracting him from his work; bringing long pauses to his lute practice, where he would stare out of his window, the sense memory of her presence playing in his mind.
Once only Monica had held that distinction.
This morning, Ariel had come to him and told him today was the day he'd been waiting for. Even in his excitement to be airborne in his very special toy, David had thought first of Amanda, certain she would love to watch his training.
3
"Not bad for a first flight," Ariel said as they exited the Stratocruiser. "We'll go up again Saturday morning if my schedule is clear." Then he walked away, leaving David and Amanda alone on the roof.
She was dressed in blue today: blue tank top and form fitting jeans, her face accentuated by lines of light cyan, and blue flowers nestled in her hair, where her twin braids met her head. The scent of her perfume was like a spring breeze blowing over a field of flowers. It mingled strangely with the brisk odor of the ocean. She walked thoughtfully around the craft, taking it in for the first time, it seemed. As if it hadn't really existed before she'd seen it fly.
"Don't get too close to those thrusters," David warned. "They're still hot."
"Really?" Amanda replied, her face wide with shock. "Thanks for telling me. I was just about to stick my hand inside one of them."
David sighed.
"Sorry," he said. "I just didn't know what you knew… or didn't know what you didn't know about…"
"So you roam among the birds now," Amanda said, interrupting his apology.
"Yes," David replied. "I have slipped the surly bonds of earth."
"And danced in the sky on silver wings," Amanda said.
"Not bad," David said, surprised.
"It's this thing regular kids do, called school," she replied evenly. "They make us learn a lot of old stuff that no one cares about anymore."
"I wouldn't say 'no one'," David said.
"No one with a life," she suggested as she went back to inspecting his Stratocruiser.
David had to stifle his reply. It would have been angry and defensive; and he was getting tired of defending himself to her. To her credit Amanda sensed her breach of decorum and turned to face him.
"Ok, that was a bit out of line," she admitted, eyes cast downward. "I wasn't being serious."
David knew this was as close to an apology as he could expect. Oddly, he was ok with that.
"Anyway, it's 'laughter-silver wings'," he said, correcting her. "I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth, and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings. Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds, and done a hundred things you have not dreamed of…." That wasn't the end of the poem, but he stopped there, and let the words linger.
"Then again, maybe I shouldn't be quoting him," David said with a chuckle. "He died very young… and in a plane crash, if I recall."
Amanda was quiet a moment.
"Sad," she said. Then she donned a mischievous grin. "So, try this one, Mister Bookworm," she said. "We come pressed for time, in the wake of our father's delusions, to dance on his grave of shattered dreams. Flames in a storm. Cling to what ignites you. 'Cause nothing really matters but the moments that you burn."
David pondered the words and then shrugged.
"That's pretty wild," he said. "But you win. I don't know it."
"Of course you wouldn't. It's from this century," Amanda said with a laugh. "They're called 'Flesh Rite', and they're playing at the Nexus in a week. Wanna go hang with some normal people for a change?"
David ignored the 'normal people' jab, feeling an unexpected surge of excitement at the invitation.
"Uh… sounds great," he said. "But, I'll have to talk to my Dad."
"So talk to your Dad," she said, rolling her eyes. "Tell him you need to get out of this boring place before it turns you into a robot."
4
Something like the old Alan Hobby had began to resurface in the man who was his creator and now his Father. The miracle of David's incarnation as flesh and blood had becoming an accepted fact, and although it did not, and would never make sense to him, Alan Hobby seemed to have found a comfortable place for this reality inside his logical brain.
He was older now, a little grayer, and even more internalized than he had been when David had first arrived. He rarely shared what was going on inside his well endowed head, and then only with those in whose confidence he felt most comfortable.
David found him in his study, dictating codes into a schematic on his monitor.
"Son," he said smiling when he noticed David enter.
"Dad," David said as his creator rose and embraced him. They hugged for a moment and then Hobby pulled back and regarded David with proud eyes.
"Ariel gave you passing marks today," he said. "Good boy."
David shrugged. "I screwed up coming out of a bank. Set course into an oncoming craft. Only pulled a warning, but if I was at speed, it would have been a collision alert."
His father waved it off. "Distractions," he said with a laugh. He pinched David's cheek.
"She's pretty, eh?" Hobby said with a mischievous wink. "And smart."
David looked away, trying to hide his smile. His father chuckled knowingly.
"Of all the challenges you will face in life, David, women will be the most perplexing," he said. "And the most intriguing."
David laughed but quickly grew serious.
"There's so much I don't know, Dad," David said. "I spend so much time reading and studying. Analyzing things. Then Amanda shows up and… I am starting to think I still don't know crap about just being alive."
Hobby patted his son on the back and went to sit at his desk.
"I am glad you came to that conclusion on your own," he said, setting himself down heavily. "You've been in a sort of cocoon here, and I must admit a lot of it was of my own making. Sure, your situation called for seclusion. But I could have allowed you some presence on the net, or maybe let you have a few friends from the inland. Hell, you managed to sneak out to see Monica and came back unharmed. I could have allowed you more freedom.
"But, I was worried about more than your safety. There were …. other things on my mind. Other concerns."
David considered these words silently. He went to sit in a chair near his Father.
"Amanda invited me inland next week. To go to a concert with her and some of her friends," David said. He didn't try any of the manipulations he used on Eddie or Hiro. They wouldn't work on Alan Hobby.
"Where?" Hobby said.
"It's a club called the Nexus. I looked it up. It looks like a nice place. The band she wants to see is a little louder than I like. But the music is intelligent."
"It's not one of those Crash Jam clubs is it?" Hobby said cautiously. "I understand those places get dangerous."
"Nah. This is for teens," David said. "It looks a little expensive but that probably means it's a little safer."
Hobby considered this quietly for a minute.
"Well, I guess you can't hide here forever. You've got an official identity now, so that shouldn't raise any eyebrows. Apart from some understandable indiscretions in sneaking off to see Monica, I have come to trust you." Hobby sighed and became lost in thought. "But this girl. She is the unknown factor in this equation."
"I know her, Dad," David said suddenly. He hadn't planned to tell his father anything. The words just jumped out, like the way one stretches a leg that's been rested on too long.
"Amanda?" Hobby said. "Where do you know her from?"
"I met her and her father at the Flesh Fair," David said. "They were there the night I got caught…. Back when I was…" he considered his words. "Back before I returned."
"Tell me everything," Hobby said.
David shared the whole tragic story. He spoke haltingly at first and then the words came in a flood. He felt relieved afterwards. He did not know how the secret had been pressuring him until that moment.
Oddly, his father didn't seem surprised. The man looked away, out of the great bay window, where the Cybertronics statue stood. The sky beyond was beginning to darken as day drew to a close. In five years, David had come to know the man well enough to see he had his own admission to share.
"What is it?" David said.
Alan Hobby leaned forward and clasped his hands in his lap, as if he was closing in on himself.
"I had a feeling that you might have met Stuart King," he said. "But not his daughter. That I could not have predicted." He leaned back and faced David.
"I met Stuart at a robotics convention many years ago. Before… before you returned. He was a free lancer when we met, just beginning to study tertiary processing systems. At the time I had no idea who he was. But I guess I was sort of a hero to him and, believe it or not, he actually wanted my autograph."
Hobby stopped to laugh at this. David joined in, but only for a moment. He was anxious to hear the rest.
"I've never had that happen before," Hobby said. He shook his head as if it still confounded him, and then continued.
"Stuart shared with me a story about encountering one of our child simulators at a Flesh Fair; about the way it had changed his life and how he had left the circus and dedicated himself to the field of sentient robotics. I knew right away he was talking about you, David. I knew he had been the man that my team had contacted the night we had called the fair, looking for you.
"But, as I said, this was before you returned. I even forgot about our encounter until a few years ago when I read his name in a trade journal. He'd created quite a reputation for himself over the years. Apparently his experience with the fair had given him some insights into Mecha/Orga relationships and he had developed some fascinating personality modifiers and was making a pretty good living.
"I considered contacting him, having him up for an interview. But he was on contract at the time. When he was free, I snatched him up before Cyberchild could make an offer."
"Why didn't you tell me?" David said. "If you knew he might have seen me before, why didn't you say anything?" He didn't mean to sound accusatory, but couldn't help wondering at his Father's motivations.
"I wasn't worried about his recognizing you, David. It's been years. The similarity between you and your former self is just not there under casual scrutiny."
"But what about me?" David said, angry now. "What about my reaction?"
Hobby held up a hand for patience.
"I wanted to see … no, I needed to see how you'd handle it."
"What was this? Some kind of test?" David said. "You're still experimenting on me?" He hadn't meant to shout, but all week long he'd been holding this thing inside him. And now he found out that Hobby had known the whole time.
The man fell quiet again, staring up at the window. When he at last spoke, his voice seemed to be coming from across a gulf of distant memories.
"You have no idea how much you remind me of myself, David." he said. "I was a solitary boy, distant from my peers. Confused by their spontaneity; their mischief. Suspicious of their motivations. By the time I was fifteen, I had decided there was little for me to find in the realm of my Orga brethren. So I had delved into my dreams… into the mysteries around me. I decided robotics was where I belonged. I watched people closely. But always from an emotional distance. My analytical temperament helped me in my field, but it also alienated me from people… and from the purely human aspects of life.
"Then I met your mother…."
Hobby stopped suddenly. Something painful crossed his features. He seemed as if he was about to correct himself. His wife had not been David's mother, not the David that sat before him. She had been the mother of his real son… his first son; in whose image David had been constructed.
But rather than correct his comment, the man simply continued.
"And she changed my life. I wasn't even sure I was capable of loving someone until I met her. Then you were…" he stopped again. This time he did correct himself. "Then my son was born, and a whole new realm of human experience opened to me. Love dominated me. Took me over. I was complete.
"When I lost them both, it changed me again. I went back to being a recluse, lost in my work. Then one day an idea came to me, and you were born. As my Mecha creation, at first, and now …" he waved his arm to signify the magic that was beyond his comprehension. "Now you are my son.
"There is no genetic link between us, David. Yet I look at you and I see the same distant, introspective child I once was."
Hobby rolled his chair close to David, and leaned forward. His words came in barely a whisper. It was one of the peculiar things he tended to do when he was about to say something of grave importance. David listened carefully.
"I won't be here forever, son. Someone must man the helm of Cybertronics when I go. I want you to be that person, David. You are my rightful heir, and you will inherit my empire and my fortune. I have decided."
David could not speak. He'd been stunned into silence. But it wasn't from the revelation of the vast fortune he would inherit. It was from the cognition that his father would someday leave him. Of course he knew his father would pass; like all mortals pass. Like he, one day, would pass. But mortality had never been an issue to him. He had not been concerned with its ramifications, or its inevitability.
"Why are you telling me this now," David said when he was able to speak. "Is… is there something I need to know?"
Hobby waved a dismissive hand.
"No, no," he said. "I'm fine. That's not the issue. I am telling you now because I do not want you to be like I was. Reclusive and abstract. I do not want you to live on the cerebral outskirts of life. You've seen the sweat and the dirt, the noise and confusion of life, David. Don't be afraid to go there again, if that's where truth lies. Live among Orga, as Orga. Not some spectator, studying their behavior in order maximize the proficiency of your simulators.
"When, someday, you take the reigns of Cybertronics, I want you to fully understand both worlds; for none other has walked in both worlds, as you have. As Mecha, you were the first of your kind. As Orga, you are the only one of your kind. There is power in that knowledge. It is unique in human history."
Again, David found himself unable to respond. Hobby smiled, knowing the effect his words were having. He brushed his hand gently over David's cheek.
"My son is growing up," he said, as if speaking to himself. Then he stood and checked his watch.
"Well, I've got a teleconference in ten minutes," he said. "Nothing technical. Just one of those glorified pep talks. So, when is this concert?"
It took David a moment to realize he'd been asked a question.
"Oh, um…next Saturday."
"Then the answer is yes," Hobby said. "I'll have to arrange some covert security. You are, after all, the son of a very wealthy man. But yes, you can go inland with your young sweetheart and have some fun. Go dance and play and fight and scheme and do all the things that I neglected in my youth.
"And make sure you let those experiences bring new colors into your world. Bring those colors back home with you. Make them your own, and share them with all those you love."
David lifted a curious eyebrow at his Father.
"Are you sure you're ok, Dad?" he said in gentle mockery. "You haven't been drinking or anything, have you?"
"Never been better," Allan Hobby said, bouncing on his heels. "My son's going on his first date. It's a great day."
"A date?" David said. No wonder he was being so poetic. But it wasn't a date… was it? Even as he thought this, new questions arose in his mind, perplexing and tinged with guilt.
"No, Dad," David said, images of Monica running though his head. "We're just going to a concert... together. That's all."
(cont…)