They want to argue. I can see it in their faces, the council members, some of them anyway. Not Paunea and a few others, she just looks at me and nods when I catch her eye, and the ones who are, I don't know, on her side I suppose, they all do the same. But the rest, they've collected themselves together into a small knot of Very Importance. The council chairwoman, unseated, I think; she stands there looking at me, arms folded over a lovely if much-repaired coat.

I still can't remember her name. Is she even the chairwoman? She certainly acts like it. Shouldn't I know that for sure? I'm not very good at this.

Fuck it. I don't need to be very good at this, not right now anyway, because we are not doing things this way right now, we don't have time.

"Kella," the woman begins, "we need to discuss this before deciding—"

"No," I say, cutting her off. "You didn't hear me. You weren't listening. I've decided where I'm going. People will come with me if they want to."

"Kella," she says again, and the condescension in her voice has a wavering foundation now, though it's still plenty infuriating. "Kella, I'm—we're—responsible for these people they belong to our—"

But I'm already walking past. "They belong to themselves," I say over my shoulder, "and they're not listening to you right now, any more than you're listening to me."

That was well-said, Operator Kella. She's right beside me, keeping easy pace. This is a long walk, is it not?

Yes, I send back. We've passed through most of the crowd. People have begun to follow. How many, I don't know right now, won't know until we've gotten a ways away from this place, have a clear separation between who is coming and who has stayed. It will be a couple days of walking. Don't worry, we'll start looking for a place to rest and recover as soon as we've gone a few miles from the old homestead.

The old homestead. Gods. Best not to think about that right now. All these people uprooted, and how much of it is because of m—

No. Deceased traitor proximate cause of fey raid, raid inevitable for next reportable violation of imposed rules.

Maybe. But he wouldn't have been able to report that we had a fucking dragon. That's all on me.

More people following, now. Most, I think. The chairwoman and all her Very Important friends seem torn. If they don't come, what happens to all their power and status? Those all depend on having people to govern right?

No, she sends again. Not all on you. What was plan, wander city ruins alone forever? Had to tell someone. Needed allies. Still do, always will. Humans not solitary species, born helpless, all great accomplishments build on earlier work, rely on outside help. Contact was necessary, inevitable, no way to know of spy, therefore raid inevitable, therefore not worth recrimination. Measures to prevent recurrence, yes. Past cannot be acted on, only time for doing is now.

So now we what, search everyone? Interrogate them?

No. Already checked entire group for magic, already killed spy, time to ponder security measures later, right now priority is: find place to rest. Not just Kella, all small-tribe members suffering psychological shock, lost home, saw death.

We've all seen worse, I send, and it's true. None of us grew up there, in the little block of slowly-collapsing towers; we were all refugees from elsewhere. Like the whole human race, now, eternal refugees from here to there.

Resilience not in question, she concedes, then shakes her head. But psychological untouchability utter myth, not possible, not even for very toughest. Recuperation necessary. Scarring inevitable. Different severity in different cases but always present.

A lot of this is not entirely familiar to me, and we walk in silence for a time as I let the ancient knowledge soak in. I do know some of it, how life scars and changes people, I know we're all walking wounded one way or the other, but I've never heard it put quite this way. I suppose this is how ancient scholars thought and spoke about these things. I've never studied it. Technology has always been my priority when seeking out old wisdom.

So, I venture after what feels like a few hundred steps, you're designed to be a sort of counselor-chaplain as well as a philosopher?

Operator well-being very high priority, as previously stated, she replies. Is there maybe a hint of mild exasperation there? Difficult to stay, even now I'm still getting used to this way of communicating, it's hard to separate thought from thought and source from source when it's all playing out inside my own head. Human cognitive efficiency highly reliant on regular/sufficient sleep/rest cycles.

I guess so, I send. And what about you? I suppose you don't really need to eat or sleep or any of that?

DRAGON unit is highly complex cellular/nanite system, includes neural net functionality, requires maintenance like all complex machinery. Will rest also.

I glance aside at her. She's looking around, behind, at me, at the following crowd, at the moldering buildings and mostly-vacant lots on either side of the street. I wonder, so I ask.

Is that how you think of yourself? Just a very complicated machine?

Of course, she sends, and she sounds surprised but not offended. This is correct conceptualization, for Operator Kella also. High complexity, subject to many unknowns/chaotic mathematical contingencies, still physical system.

And what about the soul? The gods? The afterlife? I don't know why I'm asking these questions, they're not something I've spent a lot of time in my life worrying about. My parents barely even paid lip service to the gods, though I do remember my father once remarking that they were probably assholes, given the evidence of our lives.

Unknown. Perhaps unknowable. Culturally significant, knowledge of beliefs important, not factored into other aspects of internal world-model.

They didn't design you to believe in the gods?

A pause. What would be the purpose of this? Not relevant to current-moment decision making at any known point in time. Influence of deities not known quantity/highly controversial/no good data.

I don't quite know what to say to that, not at first, not until I've sorted through some of the fragments that make up my knowledge of the Butlerian Empire.

I remember an old image, with text accompanying I didn't fully understand. But the words for "Priest" and "Emperor," those were unmistakable. I turn to look at the dragon.

The Empire had an official religion, though, right?

A rustle of wings, a moment's silence.

Yes/no unclear/complicated also controversial, Empire in heavy flux even at height, even more true at time of collapse/time of DRAGON until design/manufacture. Scientists most closely associated with DRAGON project not known for piety/some dissenters, religion official but conformity not enforced except through social/political norms, discussion very complicated no time/not priority at present moment.

Yeah, I send, and sigh. You're probably right. And we're both tired...but speaking of rest... I nod toward an only partly-collapsed building up ahead. That's an old primary school. It'll be cramped, but there should be some intact rooms where we can rest, and the hallway system is likely to be defensible.

Primary schools generally highly fortified against attack, child-safety high Imperial priority, she sends in agreement.

Guess that'd explain why they're usually some of the more intact buildings around, I reply. And why they're supposed to be off-limits for human occupation, but it's not like we need to care about that right now.

Not quite true. Still risk, DRAGON until can be concealed, may not be clear to all fey patrols that this is group being searched for.

I shake my head. We're going to be suspicious enough to attract serious attention whether they know you're with us enough. You're right, there is still risk, but I think it's worth it.

Agreed. Risk not possible to eliminate only manage.

I turn and announce that we'll be using the primary school as a rest spot, and no one really protests. I see that the hostile council members are still with us and still pulled together in their little knot. Part of me wishes they'd stayed behind— but that's another thing I don't have the time or energy to think through right now.

We lead the way into the school's front door, or at least the right side of the door not blocked by debris. The dragon goes first, and as I follow I see the remnants of a sign above the threshold. "School" is all that remains, the last word of a much longer title. I wonder what this place was called. I wonder who was here and what they learned and then part of me thinks, how many very small skeletons might we find and I shove that aside, I've seen plenty of those in my time.

And I really do need to rest. We all do.

It's a mess inside, I mean it always is. I don't think I've ever actually seen the inside of a fully intact building. Humans are technically allowed to build new structures, so long as they don't use machinery to do it, but in practice anything we try to put up will be swiftly knocked down, and why bother with that when we've got our ancestor's leftovers, all around us ready to be used? So we content ourselves with shittiness, I guess, because it's easier.

Or not. Fuck if I know. I find a clear spot in a mostly-ruined classroom where I could sleep away from everyone else, then I remember the dragon and I want her with me and don't know what to think about that either, too tired now to process anything well, so I find another spot and ask her if she'll be okay "sleeping" next to me or whatever exactly it is she does.

Sleep is a reasonable analogue for internal maintenance processes, some designed with biological equivalents in mind. DRAGON unit does not ever lose full awareness, some heuristics/processing always online, but not at conscious level.

I give a slow nod as I settle myself into my little nest of blankets. I thought dragon sentience was kind of an open question for your creators?

She shrugs as she sort of curls herself around me. She's not really big enough to do it fully, instead forming a sort of silver semicircle between me and the crooked doorway. DRAGON unit is aware of own thoughts. Cannot speak of predecessors. Was not a question of primary importance, war of desperation, effectiveness top priority.

Guess that makes sense, I send back. I feel something this weighty deserves more than that, but I'm already drifting off.

I come to a long time later. Much longer than I'm used to sleeping uninterrupted, especially out in the field like this. I realize no one tried to come get me for guard duty, that no one even discussed it with me. I suppose they may have sent someone but what they saw looking in was mostly sleeping dragon and then rethought the whole idea. I'm grateful for the rest and gods know I needed it, despite the heavy soreness still radiating out from my spine into seemingly every tiny twitching muscle fiber—but I don't want people thinking I think I'm too good to do my part now.

For that matter, I don't want to fail to do my part.

Operator Kella is DRAGON unit operator, I hear in my head, and realize she's awake too, wonder for how long. This is part enough, this is more than part enough. Also leadership responsibilities are being acquired, understand this is a matter for ambivalent feelings, also believe it inevitable. She turns her head to look me right in the eye as I stretch. You are a symbol now, there is no avoiding that. Symbols are in other heads, cannot be removed, status will remain only question is full import of meaning attached.

I groan. Mostly from the soreness, but then maybe not. That's a lot to drop on a person right after waking up, I send.

Apologies. Knowing is necessary despite associated stress. Time for knowing is now, ramifications ongoing, will not wait for schedules of rest and convenience.

"Yeah," I say aloud, and stand. Then I look down at her, remembering something I've been saying for a while now, half-remembering something from my deep-sleep scattered dreams. "I still need to give you a name."

She cocks her head. Oh? Is all she says, then waits.

"Yeah," I say again, and stretch my legs. "And I have it now. 'Hope.' It can only be Hope. Naming people after virtues isn't really popular these days, but it's not unheard of either."

Hope, she sends, and cocks her head the other way, giving her wings a gentle flutter. She sounds thoughtful, not quite decided. Naming people? Operator Kella considers DRAGON unit a 'person?'

"Of course I do," I say, and I'm surprised by the gentleness in my own voice. It breaks a little, even, and I think, I don't have time for this. But I have to make time for this, and I know that too.

She stands too, up on all fours, and looks at me for what feels like a very long time.

DRAGON unit is grateful, she sends, then spreads her wings, like she's stretching as well though I don't think she actually needs to. Name is accepted. So Hope is grateful. I am grateful. Thank you, Operator Kella. A hint of smile, on her face even, I didn't know she could even do that. Also I am pleased to see that you do seem to understand something about people being symbols as well.

"Yeah, I guess I do," I say, and then hug her round the neck. She ducks her head, sort of bends it round behind my back, and gently pats my calf with one clawed foot before drawing back.

I am grateful, she says again, and also again there's that small smile. Now, there is much to do.

"Yes. Now has the necessity, as you say. Also, we should tell everyone you have a name now."

Good, she sends, and leaves it at that. I gather up my things and lead her out to the others, to the necessity of a new day.