Part One

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Chapter 1
At Franky's insistence, Dara acquiesced and led the excited girl into a tour of her laboratory.

The cold steel door stealthily slid open at Dara's command as she led Franky inside.

The younger girl absent-mindedly discarded her luggage and ran towards what she perceived was an important machine, "Whoa, dude. Can I touch this?"

"Yeah, touch it. You think I would keep sensitive shit out in the open?" Dara sighed.

"I'm just joking, you don't need to snap. What does it even do?"

"Do you want the short story or the long story?"

Francine hummed thoughtfully to herself.

Dara interrupted her deliberation, "Like your ass is gonna know what the fuck I'm talking about."

Francine sat in Dara's chair, spinning about momentarily, "Oh you're such a grumpy Gus. Also, it should be noted that I, for the most part, don't know W, T, F you are talking about."

Dara leaned on her desk, "You can cuss, Franky. Just say 'fuck'."

"No," she laughed, "I hooked up with this guy and he's all, like, a top or whatever, and got me in the habit of not cussing. In exchange for good girl points."

"Good girl points?"

She leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling, "It's when I-"

"You don't understand, weirdo, I don't want any more details. I have heard enough."

Francine pushed off the table and spun towards Dara, "Grumpium Gussium."

She pushed her finger into Dara's right cheek, "Mic check, are these things on."

Dara turned her face and laughed, "You're so fucking annoying."

"Come on, Dairplane, tell me about your lab," she whined, "What's the point of having a best bud mad scientist if she won't tell me about her projects?"

"You're persistent, I'll give you that."

"And you love the sound of your own voice, so spill it."

Dara walked towards the refrigeration unit Francine was interacting with and put her hand on it.

She took a second to gather her thoughts, "This is merely auxiliary coolant for that machine over there."

Dara pointed to the end of the warehouse space where similar machines with similar tubing led to a platform with multiple silent console screens. She began walking towards it, running her finger along the grating of her devices.

The displays illuminated themselves as she approached them, reading back to her figures and data incomprehensible to most people. But this woman wasn't most people, even amongst contemporaries she was streets and leagues beyond.

"This is going to make the remote womb look like a baking soda volcano," she said, enthusiastically rubbing the leather of the chair assigned to that station.

Franky, for all her intellectual shortcomings, at least could get by with her immense positivity and palpable honesty. She regarded Dara with beaming eyes, "What could possibly be cooler than that?"

"Not artificial reality but a complete 1:1 simulacrum processed through a predictive algorithm modeled on the learned neural pathways of a subject. The computer isn't telling you what chicken tastes like, you're telling it!"

Francine hummed to herself briefly, "Well what if I never ate chicken? How would the computer handle that? Chicken doesn't always taste the same either, sometimes it sucks."

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⏰ Last updated: Apr 02 ⏰

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