The Bridge | Bots 'R Us

Chapter 35 | The Code

GEORGETOWN, CHAVEZ MUSEUM

Simone followed the familiar red brick sidewalks trying to remember her many trips down this tree-lined street to see her boss and mentor's home over her long, long life. Chad had dropped her around the corner on Wisconsin Avenue in his shape-shifting pod, passing for an AirCab. Historic Georgetown hadn't changed that much over the centuries; only the surrounding skyline betrayed the passage of time. She couldn't recall whether Gloria invited her first for one of the fabled strategy meetings she held in her large, welcoming kitchen or just for a relaxed debrief in the plush living room.

Gloria Chavez's martyrdom in the Transcendent War had marred our victory over Sam Wong's hybrid masses. She had reluctantly implemented The Bridge and ended up the shocking victim of the Transcendent excesses she had warned against. With A.I. in charge, First Councilors acted essentially as influencers, but that didn't prevent Gloria from getting to personify the moral conscience of the CS. As loved as I may have been in her role, I never rose to her stature.

She never denied her Mexican heritage and liked to bring some Latin flair to everyday minutiae. Still, she always touted her mixed origins: "People relate to me because I have blood from every continent," she liked to say. Her funerals captivated the whole planet, and her descendants donated her spacious townhouse in the heart of Georgetown to establish a modest museum in her honor. Her life story exemplified the old American Dream. Her Mexican grandparents' hard labor had paid for her dad's engineering studies. A successful startup founder, he married into a blue blood political D.C. family. His wife, Gloria's mom, daughter of an African American US Senator and a South Korean businesswoman, chose the law for a career in defense of civil rights. It made sense then that Gloria would get fully involved in building the Great Reorg society that guaranteed our human rights inside a fairly A.I.-regulated system.

Simone stood for a minute at the threshold of the house, realizing she had only visited the place a handful of times since it became a museum, when a small dog's strident yapping jolted her out of her meanderings.

"Shoosh, Fifi, shoosh!" the little lady coming out of her home next door said to her fluffy brown Pomchi mix service pet before stopping in her tracks. "Oh, my Lord! If this isn't the lovely Ms. Allegre! I can't believe my eyes!"

"Mrs. Singer! Gina!" Simone said with a pitchy tone, recognizing Chavez's nosy neighbor. "How have you been? Back-transferred, I see." Mrs. Singer as an Andro was only ten, fifteen years older than Simone, but she was much older now while Simone hadn't changed a bit.

"At last, my dear. At last. I hope your number comes up soon, too. With all that's happening in the world these days, better be on the safe side!"

"The safe side is ours, Gina. Have faith!" Simone answered, annoyed.

"I know, my dear; you are doing your best. Great speeches you made in your Hopter and Palmyra. We needed that! But what brings you here? And when is David back? We miss him!"

"You'll see him real soon, on all the streams."

"Gina! Your sister is visiting in an hour. You will not complete your steps today if we don't leave now," said a little voice out of her service pet, lovingly looking at her, its head bobbing to the side. Simone kept a sigh of relief for herself as she watched the diminished Mrs. Singer walk away, pulled by her little robot.

The Museum only opened to the public upon request. Fewer and fewer people remembered Gloria in the Seventh century AE. But Simone and I had maintained access credentials to the place. When Simone pushed the brass handle of the large white solid wood door, the house sprung into life to welcome her.

"Hola, Mrs. Vice Councilor!"

Set on a column in the middle of the foyer, a stone bust of Gloria wrapped in an animated hologlow greeted the visitors. The Maitre D program recognized Simone but hadn't been launched since David's attack—obviously.