[ An automated voice speaks because someone hasn't bothered to set up a proper voicemail. The only part in her voice is her name. ] You have reached Agent Texas. Leave a message at the tone.
[ She's watching his drawing more closely now and frowns a little at that memory of her expression. God, had she really looked like that? Almost like a damn kid going on a first date. Going out with Cordelia has been some of her best times here and judging by the tone of his drawing, even he could tell that.
[ She leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, as she watches. Cordelia's figure is coming out beautifully and she smiles as the woman's hair comes to life on the page. ]
You're really okay with all of this between us? [ The question feels sudden, but it's been nagging at the back of her mind since the timelines were shifted around briefly. Rightfully so, Cordelia had been keen on spending more time with her husband and she doubts the reason was kept secret from him. If either even remember. ]
[He honestly hadn't had much more practice with Cordelia, a few proper drawings and a number of quick, wispy sketches. But the details? He had all of those memorized.
The question causes him to still, pencil tip hovering over the surface.]
I thought I should be, at first. After all, it was myself who opened these conversations back home. But I've come to realize that is very different than "is." [He resumes his work, the curve of her smile, focused on the viewer, rather than Tex.]
I am, in truth, quite content with it, now. [There's a pause, a hesitation before a mildly offered.] I begin to see what she finds in you.
[ There's a small sigh of relief and tension that leaves her posture at that confirmation. There's been plenty he could have done to stop or sabotage this if he really wanted to yet he hasn't.
It still feels too good to be true, but she's slowly starting to accept it for what it is. ]
Thanks. [ A beat then, ] I can see what she married you.
Hm. [The wordless sound was speculative, but pleased.
He turns his attention more fully to the picture. The clothes drawn on each fit the form with little attention to folds and shadows, leaving something of empty spaces even with all of the shading. On the other hand, the lines of the walls and the banister leading up are done with a steady, precise hand, even freehand.
It's no quick process, working almost in layers, one after another. Each point where one might have called it complete just seemed to be the bridge to the next.
Until finally, he leans back rubbing his chin (a smear of graphite streaks his cheek and chin, having used his own hands to blend shades here and there.)]
I think... that will do.
[The pages perforated already, the heavy page pulls free of the binding with just a little trial and error.]
[ She's content to watch him work, not needing to fill in the silence. The steadiness of his hand and focus on his task brings her a sense of calm making things comfortable even in this setting.
There's a smile as she watches the graphite make a mess out of his face. She debates whether or not to tell him before finally making a vague motion with her hand. ]
Regent, right? For Gregor? I don't even want to know the kind of trouble that gets hauled onto your doorstep. I've heard some of Cordelia's stories already.
[ And part of that had been from before his time as Regent. ]
I had considered it. The ramifications of an AI of your quality and capability would be somewhat enormous. The very first thing that would have to be done is establish your rights as a person, your place within a major House would make it quite a bit easier to stomp down the other Count's throats, make it a hit and run attack and work out the incidentals as they arrive. I'm sure the Beta Colony would have the law already frameworked and ready to simplify for digest.
It would have profound societal impact, forcing new permutations of what a person is to the generally fairly closed viewpoint Barrayar has. It is good in the long term, though dangerous in the short.
[His eyes watched her, sharp with calculation.]
EMP proof plating could easily be fitted to your armor for your safety, and should be. Most of our reliance on the weapon is gone, but stockpiles exist of everything whether there is practical use or not.
As for the practical and obvious, clearly, you could revolutionize space warfare as, the tac computers understand tactics and countertactics, but not humans, in general. As much as I desperately wish to see the galactic arms race settle and our place slip to a more peaceful one, I doubt it would happen in our time.
[There's another pause here, long. He folds his hands and sets his chin on them.]
Or you could be Armswoman Allison. Or Tex. Of House Vorkosigan.
In a new world, your identity would be yours to choose, all levels of it.
[ Well shit. That's a lot more thought than she had expected anyone to put into it and she's watching him intently as he speaks. When he reaches the end, she finds herself relaxing. She's never been one to pioneer social revolutions, much less in a galaxy that has next to no AI technology.
She speaks carefully, ]
There's a reason I don't broadcast what I am here. It'd be a lot easier to live as Armswoman Allison there. I get the feeling I'll already be drawing enough attention to myself with the 'armswoman' title.
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[ She's watching his drawing more closely now and frowns a little at that memory of her expression. God, had she really looked like that? Almost like a damn kid going on a first date. Going out with Cordelia has been some of her best times here and judging by the tone of his drawing, even he could tell that.
She murmurs, ] You remember that well?
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Usually... perhaps not. It was striking, though.
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[ She leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, as she watches. Cordelia's figure is coming out beautifully and she smiles as the woman's hair comes to life on the page. ]
You're really okay with all of this between us? [ The question feels sudden, but it's been nagging at the back of her mind since the timelines were shifted around briefly. Rightfully so, Cordelia had been keen on spending more time with her husband and she doubts the reason was kept secret from him. If either even remember. ]
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The question causes him to still, pencil tip hovering over the surface.]
I thought I should be, at first. After all, it was myself who opened these conversations back home. But I've come to realize that is very different than "is." [He resumes his work, the curve of her smile, focused on the viewer, rather than Tex.]
I am, in truth, quite content with it, now. [There's a pause, a hesitation before a mildly offered.] I begin to see what she finds in you.
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It still feels too good to be true, but she's slowly starting to accept it for what it is. ]
Thanks. [ A beat then, ] I can see what she married you.
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He turns his attention more fully to the picture. The clothes drawn on each fit the form with little attention to folds and shadows, leaving something of empty spaces even with all of the shading. On the other hand, the lines of the walls and the banister leading up are done with a steady, precise hand, even freehand.
It's no quick process, working almost in layers, one after another. Each point where one might have called it complete just seemed to be the bridge to the next.
Until finally, he leans back rubbing his chin (a smear of graphite streaks his cheek and chin, having used his own hands to blend shades here and there.)]
I think... that will do.
[The pages perforated already, the heavy page pulls free of the binding with just a little trial and error.]
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There's a smile as she watches the graphite make a mess out of his face. She debates whether or not to tell him before finally making a vague motion with her hand. ]
You've got something on your face.
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Yeah, you're just getting more pencil on your face. Let me get you something to clean it off with.
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Want me to get it?
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[He takes it, and DOES manage to get most of it blind, for a wonder.]
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Almost all of it. Keep scrubbing.
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You know it would have been a helluva lot easier to let me do it, right?
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I'll need such attendance if I manage to get to an infirm age. There's no need to rush it.
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[ Or that's what she thought armsmen were anyway. ]
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... Also the position I am in is quite a bit more than twenty men can handle. Some attempts have been downright inspired.
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[ And part of that had been from before his time as Regent. ]
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[He shakes his head.]
... It is a shame you couldn't return with us. Though if there is a means discovered, you're quite welcome to a place.
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Gregor offered to let me come along if a way was found. I told him I'd think about it. [ And it's been a while since that first offer had been made. ]
I'm leaning towards 'why not?'
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It would have profound societal impact, forcing new permutations of what a person is to the generally fairly closed viewpoint Barrayar has. It is good in the long term, though dangerous in the short.
[His eyes watched her, sharp with calculation.]
EMP proof plating could easily be fitted to your armor for your safety, and should be. Most of our reliance on the weapon is gone, but stockpiles exist of everything whether there is practical use or not.
As for the practical and obvious, clearly, you could revolutionize space warfare as, the tac computers understand tactics and countertactics, but not humans, in general. As much as I desperately wish to see the galactic arms race settle and our place slip to a more peaceful one, I doubt it would happen in our time.
[There's another pause here, long. He folds his hands and sets his chin on them.]
Or you could be Armswoman Allison. Or Tex. Of House Vorkosigan.
In a new world, your identity would be yours to choose, all levels of it.
no subject
She speaks carefully, ]
There's a reason I don't broadcast what I am here. It'd be a lot easier to live as Armswoman Allison there. I get the feeling I'll already be drawing enough attention to myself with the 'armswoman' title.
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