Chapter 23

It was a place Virgil appreciated, because he and his fellow AIs could disappear into Loki’s territory to escape the cutting ways humans tended to treat them with. Loki was always a willing ear and liked to repay egregious acts against the station’s AIs with truly embarrassing, though harmless, pranks.

Today Virgil needed little more than a patch up of his flesh and an upgrade to his RAM. Long black tendrils of hair wafted around the section of his skull, a right side square equidistant where the squamous suture was on an organic, that lay in a metal tray not two feet in front of his seat. No one was allowed down in Loki’s domain while an AI needed repair. Most humans found chunks removed from a skull, machine or not, unseemly.

A twitch tremored through Virgil’s leg. “I do not need a diagnostic, Loki. Just more processing power.”

“You’ve no idea what you need,” Loki retorted. “Bullets can do simply awful things to your internal systems. No harm in checking.”