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"How long will that take?"

"One hundred and thirty two er if we stand here arguing"

"Technically, I aravity syste perhaps only half a gee

She moves in slow ht

Wisps of hair drift about her face as if in a soft breeze

It is deathly quiet

None of the cah the console slung at her back There could be afflicted ten feet in front of her, waiting in the dark

Neither of us would know until it was too late

I picture her end A hundred iterations

Hel as she suffocates

Suit pierced by a flashing blade, slowon ht Not that she will fail, that the Lincoln will triumph, that the fleet will fall I am simply troubled she will end

I do not want her to end

This to end

Strange

"What do you think happens when you die?"

I have asked the question almost before I realize it It strikes me as immediately foolish

What matter, what she thinks? Her IQ is a mere 147 She has lived only six thousand four hundred and twenty-one days She is an insect tomore than--

"Why do you ask?"

"… I have no particular reason The power systeh that door"

"You mean the door marked ‘Power Syste the hatch wide

A bank of switches line one wall, set to shutdown position

As she snaps one after the other into operational hts up,

overheads and intellica to life, the corridor outside bathed in fluorescent light

She cannot hear the hum, but I feel it in ainst the wall to wait as the startup sequence cycles, watching the power feed levels shift slowly froreen of summer fields I will never see

"What do you think happens?" she finally asks