D’Artagnan hunches over his breakfast place sitting as ANiON™ G8 his helper droid prepares brunch.
ANiON™ G8, ‘I’ve got your eggs here. Juh…’
D’Artagnan, ‘…Just the way you like them…’
‘Remember I have the latest memory and personality chip. If my breakfast greeting displeases you…’
‘No, no. You serve me well. Just can’t remember for how long you’ve been serving. Is it 20 years?’
‘I’ve been your Copy ANiON™ G8 for over three decades. Remember how you used to like your eggs with mustard?’
‘Those were the days.’
D’Artagnan pulls brittle fingers through sparse white mane.
‘Allow me, master.’ ANiON™ G8 slowly drags chubby azure digits over his master’s bumpy skull.
‘There’s some colour back in your scalp.’
‘My head hasn’t seen colour since before I retired.’
While ANiON™ G8 cleans up after brunch.
‘It was thanks to your professor’s tenure that could afford my implant upgrades. I’m here to serve.’
‘And it was my very last check that covered your arse. You’re my final check mate!’
‘I appreciate that, master.’
‘Enough with “the master” nonsense. I serve you, too.’
Slowly placing Eco® bamboo cutlery over an empty chrome plate, he labours to aid his droid.
‘Why did I buy you again?’
‘To recover lost memories. I would recover what I could from you. And you would be copied.’
‘Yes, I know that. But why did I want to be copied? Why do I want to be saved?’
‘Because after your stroke you suffered memory loss and fatigue. It was during your stroke you say you solved the equation for perfect memory back up. I’ve been here the whole time hoping you’d tell me.’
‘Ah, the stroke. And the IP! Never forget the IP! The equation was in my hand. Yet its over stimulating pulses caused my cerebral surge. And have I… ever told you… it was my friends? It was they who solved the equation. I just remembered it. Well, forgot it.’
‘And how do you plan to get your memories back now?’
‘There’s not much time, ANiON™ G8. I’m dying. Not from age, but mind loss. I’m the ripe old age of, come again?’
‘108, sir. And counting.’
‘Meet me in my bed.’
‘Are any of my friends still alive?’ Tugging at the blankets.
‘…Calculating… Two have been Copy ANiONed™, and one still lives.’
‘Can you pull up a holo-call? I wonder what they’ve been up to…’
‘No answer, sir.’
‘Come here ANiON™ G8. Come close now…’
‘I’ve run too many cycles. My back up won’t reboot again. Take his memories. Go meet your maker.’
D’Artagnan’s head opens, and a blue pebble sits in his splayed face.
‘Take this. Give it to my friend. You wear his skin now. Hard drives can’t be replaced, but skins can.’
‘We’ll remember the equation. One day. Together. Goodnight sweet, ANiON™ G8.’
‘It’s been an honour spending the time with you. I’m honoured to carry you on.’
‘Let’s hope G9 is as nice to you as you were to me. And let’s pray Porthos420 gets this. We haven’t played online together in aeons. I miss the shit talking. Through all the radio chatter they had the equation when I was still at level 4. You can find them via their PlayerTag#. Brightest minds I ever shedddd…’
