2. In Which Mistakes Are Made
A hum built around Church then a POP. Carolina was suddenly staring at him, head cocked. “Where’s your armor?”
It took him a split-second to register her confused words. He glanced down at his clothes and shrugged. “It’s not like it matters what I look like. I’m a frickin computer program. I’m non-corporeal. I don’t need armor if I can’t be shot.”
“I didn’t think you knew what non-corporeal meant.”
“Hey, fuck you. I’m not an idiot. I have a Ph.D. in like five things. Uh- computer science, and uh-” He rubbed his forehead. “Engineering.”
Carolina kept laughing. “For someone that’s made entirely of memories, you sure forget a lot.”
“Not enough,” he muttered. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his shoes again. That right lace was still untied. Stupid shoelace.
Her laughter tapered off. “Church, what’s wrong?”
“Epsilon. My name is Epsilon.” He couldn’t take it anymore. He blinked out, cocooning himself in the little corner of Carolina’s brain that he’d claimed for himself. He could go back into the memory chip in her armor, but, yeah, that wasn’t fun last time. Carolina’s thoughts tickled the back of his mind. He burrowed under the covers. “Go away.”
“Jesus, Church, do you ever clean up after yourself?”
He tossed the blanket off to find Tex looking around, lips curled in disgust. She picked up an empty pizza box then dropped it, wiping her hands on her pants.
“What the hell are you doing here? Get out.”
“I thought we established that you’re stuck with me.”
“Well go find your own place to live.” Read more…