I was experiencing a strange sub-set of the laws of relativity. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl, as the dialogue, which would take the descriptor mind-numbing as a compliment, tried to erode my personal belief that mankind was a sapient species. There was no way under the sun that dialogue so utterly and completely retarded was written by a being with higher intelligence than a genetically modified tomato. And the modification did not have to be very good.

Why would anyone care if the so-called star of the show preferred the blonde cast-member with silicone-breasts and gave her a rose or if he preferred the formerly brunette, now bleached-blonde with silicone-breasts? I had taken my eyes off my studies for a few moments when Sophia started to get excited but I could not fathom why she was. Personally, I would have greatly preferred the show, if they had introduced some sort of evolutionary selection-mechanism. Maybe let a pride of lions into the room, to introduce selection-pressure. It would improve the show’s quality greatly and help the species by removing those individuals from the gene-pool.

But no, sadly no lions were let loose, a rose was given, people squealed and I wondered just why the hell anyone would want to watch the mating-rituals of retarded people. With those thoughts, I focused back on my studies.

Some time later, Sophia suggested to have dinner, an idea I happily accepted. Luckily, she must have felt my disinterest in the shows we had watched and did not try to discuss them. Not that I would have been able to say much, I had succeeded in tuning them out, to save my poor, abused brain. Dinner was enjoyable, and I brought up the fact that the bunker was currently mostly designed for me alone, with a few nods to her presence as a guest.

“Do you want me to stay here, with you?” she asked, in a subdued voice.

“Yes. You can stay as long as you want. And I want you to be comfortable, so you need to have your own space and your own furniture.” I said, slightly forceful, so she would understand that she was welcome. Her smile showed that she had understood.

“I can’t go back, can I? Mom will hate me now, I messed everything up.”

“No, you did not. She did something horrible. Maybe she knows that she did wrong and fled, instead of owning up to it. She did not return to the apartment since the night you left, you know?” I said, making a snap-decision that I would not tell her about her mother’s death. I would not actively lie, but I would act as if I did not know about it.

Our conversation continued a little but Sophia was getting withdrawn again, so I stopped pushing.

After dinner, it was dark enough to let the flight-frame fly this time with a full copy of Galatea inside. That was interesting, not only because it would give me performance-data on the flight-frame but each time Galatea split herself, I was able to gather small amounts of data regarding her conscience. I was still unsure why she was what she was and it was incredibly interesting. I had tried to retrace my steps, but never succeeded, I had never managed to come close to understanding her existence. I could clone her, or rather, she could clone herself, but I was unable to birth her a sister. Noogenesis was still outside my understanding, outside of simple coincidence. Which I was not satisfied with.

Top-side, Sophia and I were walking through the forest, both in our full gear. I was carrying the flight-frame and the tarp that made sure the forest-floor was not overly disturbed while Sophia carried the explosive-filled test-dummy as we made our way to another clearing, not the one I had used last time. Once there, Sophia spread the tarp and I went over the frame one last time, in a pre-flight check. It was most likely unnecessary, I had gone over it with a fine-toothed comb, but it was good practise. Not every flight would be after a full check-up so getting in the habit was key to a long flying career.

“Copying myself into the dummy’s core.” Galatea announced. For a moment, my armour went un-powered as Galatea was busy copying herself, before she gave the OK. Even two Galateas spoke with a single voice, keeping their connection as close as possible to avoid data-corruption that might break one of them. At least, that was what she called it. In a way, it would not break the copy, it would create a second distinct individual, on Galatea’s base. But to Galatea, the idea itself, to clone herself and let the copy become distinct was abhorrent, she said it reduced her sense of individuality, of being. It was not something she was happy debating and I mostly steered clear of it.

Stepping back and into cover, I gave the signal that we were ready. On my visor appeared the telemetry, featuring a fake-horizon, altimeter, velocity meter and an overview map and I copied it to Sophia.

The air-intakes started to spin up, as Galtea started her count-down and Sophia grasped my hand.

Three seconds later, the flight-frame was rising into the clouded sky. In a way, it was lucky that the low-hanging clouds would hide most of the flight tonight, allowing Galatea to test much more.

“You know, we could go back inside.” I suggested, as a light drizzle started. Not that either of us would get wet, wearing our gear, but standing in the rain was psychologically uncomfortable.

We grabbed the tarp and moved back, towards the bunker, Galatea showing the progress she was making in an overlay, while allowing us to see what was around us. Back in the bunker, I grabbed a sturdy stool while Sophia decided to watch the scene on the big screen, not her small visor.

Sadly, the whole thing was visually rather unspectacular, it was mostly dark with the occasional dark spot in the dark. The only way we could follow the events was by using the instruments, which was mildly spectecular. In a straight line, the flight frame was able to accelerate insanely well and to a high speed, easily able to break the sound-barrier if it was not forbidden. The problem was that acceleration was a one-way street with the ramjet-thrusters, to decelerate the frame had only the far weaker jet-thrusters, and they were limited in the direction they could apply thrust. So, the frame mostly flew in a direction, similar to a tossed brick, until it had slowed down enough to maneuver and repeat the brick-toss. At lower speeds, up to roughly a hundred kilometers an hour, the jet-thrusters were enough, allowing for good maneuverability, even giving the frame the ability to hover or fly backwards partially making up for the horrendous maneuverability at higher speeds.

For anything other than getting from point A to point B, the high-speed mode was a total failure, the idea of dog-fighting with it was so far from realistic, it was not even worth joking about. Part of me wondered if I would be able to somehow merge the two modes, giving it adequate maneuverability at higher speeds but I doubted it. Not without throwing the design out of the window and starting from scratch.

Finally, two hours later, Galatea declared the test a success and announced that she was on her way back. Sophia had fallen asleep so I went out alone, spreading the tarp and collecting the flight-frame.

Once the frame was back in the bunker, I gently shook Sophia awake, suggesting to her that she might want to change before heading to bed while I did the same. It was quite late after all.

We arranged ourselves as we often did, Sophia snuggled into my arms.

“Soph, what are your plans? You know, for the future?” I asked in a gentle voice.

“Mhm, don’t know. Haven't thought about it for over a year. I wanted to get through school, maybe into college. but even that was not a really serious idea. I wanted to find a partner that loved me and make a life with her. A child or two, stable family, you know. Give my children a better childhood than I had.” Sophia said, in a dreamy voice.

“You know, I always saw myself with a red-head. Don’t know why, just whenever I imagined my future, my wife was a redhead...” Sophia continued to mumble, describing her future wife, sometimes in quite explicit terms, until her mumblings evened out into the steady breaths of sleep, leaving me with my thoughts.

As I was not yet sleepy or even tired, I made Galatea display another text-book for the Guild-Academy. If I was able to study while Sophia watched her mind-numbing television, I certainly was able to study to the soft music of her snores.

But even as I studied, a part of me wondered about the future. What would it bring, how would it look.