All the windows have long been flung wide, and my chassis's abdomenal plate is open, the little fan I keep in there now attached to the edge of the window into my guts. The bus hasn't moved for at least half an hour, and it isn't exactly convincing me that it'll be moving in the next half. I'm splayed across the backseat, my G's Cs jacket tied around my waist, a handful of other passengers fanning themselves or chatting idly down the aisle. Even out on the street, it's too hot for anyone to be moving around; the traffic jam outside is about as loud as the average subway platform, pre-train. I'm thinking about the coast, twenty kilometres west of here. It's thirty-four centigrade outside, the AC's busted, and I've got nothing but time to kill.
Tracing the panels on my arms for any damage, I start planning for what happens when we get moving. After I get to the little motel room I rented to come visit, I'm seeing an old war buddy of mine. She called me pretty short-notice, but I like to be there for my friends, especially after the hell she pulled me out of when I was just starting out on my own. I needed a break anyway - there aren't many other neutral planets like New St. Gotthard period, let alone so dangerously close to the EarthGov's "second line" - the point where they officially recognize conflict, where they really throw their resources. There are battles before and after the line (space isn't so linear as you'd think), but at the second line they can be open and honest with their disgust for us. New St. Gotthard sees people from both sides, and it seems like Caroline's put that to use, but I won't have many details until she's done 'taking out the trash' in a little bit. Hopefully it's worth it.
The bus driver walks back in, wiping his face with both hands, before crumpling in his seat and picking up a small handset from his console. He mumbles into the intercom through the freshly toiling air conditioning that he's managed to fix up the AC, and that the crash that got us here is almost cleaned up down the way. A few windows get shut to let the cold fill the bus. The miniature (read, small for the usual 1m x 0.5m x 0.5m) expander unit I've got, plugged into my guts while they're open, goes to work while I sit up to enjoy the cooling air, staring out into nothing across the street. A businessman sitting in his car down the alley is yelling into his corded phone like it'll physically hurt the other guy on the line. This goes on for at least five minutes - the expander makes me lose track of the time. He slams the thing into the receiver on the dash, and leans back in the driver's seat, hands over his eyes like it'll keep his problems farther away than his doorstep. He's still sweating like a pig, but not so bad as the humans in the bus here were before the AC got turned on. His hands slip down; reach for his glove compartment. As he finds his obscured goal, he pulls it from its place while his left hand reaches into his right, interior jacket pocket - he looks up, right into my eyes, as the reverie breaks and the bus starts moving.
A murmur of recognition floats over my fellow passengers as we slowly drift farther down the street. My target, in my reawakening, disappears into the hodge-podge of brickwork and concrete. I unplug the expander, slip it into my bag, and start closing my chassis.
The drive doesn't contain much besides a VR executable, modified to be compatible with doll internals - I laugh about my functionally living in a virtual reality like I'm coughing up phlegm before the sensation of tears flowing down my cheeks comes back. I run the thing without thinking about if the file's legit or not, something that scares me just as the file boots. I'm home, suddenly.
Caroline is sitting on a queen bed in her room. Posters coat the walls, dull string lights hang diagonally across the corners, a striplight running along the top of the low wall trim, all the way around the room. Behind and to my right is a big, heavy metal desk, with a chunky setup and a couple wide monitors on it. Afternoon light spills through the full-length window on the west wall, running parallel to the bed. Sat on her pillow, Caroline is wearing a short, grey tanktop that shows most of her midriff, and a pair of underwear which is more revealing than anything I'd seen her in in life. She's hugging her legs, visibly thinking, her exposed legs glinting here and there from the sun. I'm (taking the place of the 360 degree camera that recorded this,) sat on the end of her bed, staring into her face as it contorts in preparation for her piece. She speaks, and I'm too transfixed to not listen.
"Hi, hon. If you're seeing this, then I'm dead. Dead-dead, too, not just fake dead - those kinds of messages I only send to people who I need to think I'm dead. I also don't personalize those ones, either.
[She pulls her shirt down a little - shouldn't be looking, probably, probably - and continues, somehow looking into my eyes] "I wish I had better news. I'm often likely to die, so I rerecord these somewhat often - right now, though, I've been staying on New St. Gotthard, following some weird leads. I'm gonna make you come after me, sorry! I've got some things as incentive, though, so you have to actually come do some kind of grieving.
[Caroline adjusts, tucking her legs under her, resting her weight on her left hand as she tilts, the yellow of the string lights shining off her eyes like gold, her hair, her hair...] "I've got... a little memento for you, and something to ease the pain of the whole thing. I'm really, really sorry you've got to go through this without me. I left the stuff at a good storage place not far from where I live, I thought you'd... wanna visit.
[She huffs, sliding farther down, coming to rest on the bed. She's laying on her back, staring at the ceiling, her hands are, are knit tight on her tummy, her legs together and forming an arch, and... it's almost too hard to keep my eyes open, the sensation of crying is so hard now] "I know there's something between us. I've always been a little scared to pursue it - I'm literally writing a note to you in case I die, I wouldn't want to hurt you like that. I just... I want to make sure that you know I love you in case I die. I really love you, Sojourner. You mean a lot to me. You always have. If this means goodbye, then at least I can give you this much."
My eyes are shut tight. I think I'm rocking back and forth, though some part of me feels like it's spasming. I'm choking, and far away. I don't have lungs, but I'm struggling to breathe, and I'm keeping my eyes closed, because if I don't open them, then I can pretend I'm on Carrie's bed, and she's not dead, and I'm not some tiny, quaking thing, the last doll standing.
so it goes