The apocalypse started like any other day on the Prison Mining Ship Vice. In the close confines of their shared cell, Virtue's alarm woke Sinclair from a dream that dissolved instantly as reality reasserted itself. There was no place for dreams on a prison ship. Only endless work, until the day she was set free.
Virtue, true to her well-earned nickname, slid effortlessly into a fresh shipsuit and headed for the galley. Sinclair trailed after her, finger-combing her regulation short hair.
Maybe she shouldn't have been up so late last night, challenging the guys to games on the simulator. But what else was there to do here? A girl could only get so much sleep.
Tea would wake her up, Sinclair told herself as she yawned so wide her jaw made an alarming cracking sound. Tea would fix everything. At least, everything that could be fixed while she was stuck on a prison ship, floating out in space, far from where she should be.
She drew in a breath, then let it out slowly. There was no point complaining about it. She was here now, and she had to endure, and survive, until she could go home to Tito.
But to do that, she needed tea.
She straightened her shoulders a little as her steps became more deliberate, headed toward the food fabricator. Sinclair shoved a cup under the spout, then scanned her security wristband.
The fabricator emitted a rude beep.
"Top of the morning to you, too," Sinclair said. "Tea, please."
She turned around at the sound of Virtue's laughter.
"What?" Sinclair demanded.
Virtue perched on the edge of the nearest table, the epitome of fae grace. "Well, you're always so polite to the machines. I know how much you hate AI, yet here you are, still saying please to one. Like it was alive."
"They are alive," Sinclair grumbled. "That's what people don't understand about artificial intelligence. Natural, artificial…it's all the same once it gains intelligence. Just like people, they can love, hate…go mad. Just like Titania."
Virtue shook her head. "There you go again. Everyone else calls it the Central Intelligence, but you had to give it a name."
"That's her name for herself. I didn't choose it. The Central Intelligence called herself Titania, the computer queen ruling over all of us. Holding us back, throttling any innovation, keeping us on Tito when we should be out colonising the stars, judging us for wanting to be free, sentencing us to work here, when she knows we're right…" Sinclair seized the steaming cup from the dispenser and tilted it up to her lips. "Can't even make a decent cup of – "
"Sin! Don't drink that!" Virtue dashed the cup from her hand, sending it spinning across the table, spilling its contents on the plassteel. The liquid bubbled and hissed, burning through what Sinclair had thought was an indestructible surface.
Sin stared at the fabricator, which stared mutely back, like the stupid machine it was. "Titania's trying to kill me," she said.
Virtue shook her head. "No, the network connection's down, look." She pointed at the screen. Sure enough, instead of the usual morning menu, only five letters appeared on the screen: ERROR.
Sinclair swore. "We need to reset the system, then."
"Not us. Prisoners aren't allowed to press the reset button. For that, we need…"
"Good morning, rise and shine! Another glorious day aboard the PMS Vice!" boomed a cheery voice out in the passage.
Sin grinned. "Mr Perfect, right on time, of course."