Apologies

Yeah. I got sick. I’m too behind and also too grouchy to put anything together. I can offer either nothing (in that case stop here) or really really old (January 2021) murderbot diaries fanfic I wrote that’s not horribly embarrassing hopefully, only cause that’s what I’ve got hanging around my local storage. It’s based off of opera (le nozze de figaro), written because I could, and from back when I had something like free time. Written in markdown, but it doesn’t seem to transfer from drafts very well. Stuff in underscores is supposed to be in italics.

Cinque, dieci, venti…

Five, ten, twenty, thirty, thirty six, forty three... oh, never mind that. I'd lost count of how many episodes of Sanctuary Moon I'd watched on this trip; it was more than ART wanted me to, at the very least. Look, I was bored, alright? ART hadn't even told me where we were going yet, only that it'd take a few cycles to get there and that I needed to go wherever we were going. 

Now, it was hanging out in my feed, trying to get me to look at something in its crew lounge. _Just look a moment, please_. 

At least ART was learning to say please, I thought ruefully as I reluctantly walked to the crew lounge. "Fine, I'm looking. What did you want to show me?" 

ART bounced around in my feed like the transport equivalent of a little kid on a sugar rush. _Look over here at my university!_ It indicated a window on the wall, and I approached it cautiously. 

I looked out the window and saw a space station, metallic gray against blinding white, floating in orbit around a green-blue planet. Initially, it looked open and inviting, with its docking ring ready for anyone who wanted to learn to enter. The longer I looked, however, the more I saw characteristics that reminded me of ART itself: the extra processing power and intelligence ready to snark at me, the hidden defenses and weapons that were supposedly for legitimate research purposes but were really there for other reasons, the readiness to protect itself and its crew. 

_Do you like it?_ ART asked me after a couple minutes. 

"It seems as if it was made for you," I responded, honestly. "Or perhaps as if you were made for it, given the timeframes involved". 

I did like it, but I wasn't going to out and out state that directly to ART, who'd probably make me regret saying it by using it against me. And a small part of me, honestly, felt flattered that ART trusted me enough to want to share its home with me. A _very_ small part.