[ He watched her watching the quiet display– bugs like lanterns or stars in the night. They beckoned a desire to be a part of the forest & its lights somehow, but the show was likely lost to the performers dancing in it. ]
“Maybe it’s a…over-crowding type– thing–”,
[ the shinobi offered in solidarity;
Gaze downcast, Naruto plucked at the blades of grass between his knees, legs stretched out before him atop the emerald carpeting. He reflected, shrugging his lips, & said, ]
“–’sides, I reckon s’only sad if it feels short to them, too. Maybe we’re already thinkin’ about it way more than they do.”
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Charleston's adventures had run the gamut of both Meridian and of the Freelancer ranks - perhaps gamut wasn't quite the right word, as he had yet to see the majority of either despite keeping himself uncharacteristically busy. He was glad that June had persuaded him out of the ship; he was having a great time despite the lingering sadness that threatened to creep over them all. The Director's notice about a formal service had, to a degree, lessened Charleston's anxieties about the other thing. Still, it hadn't erased them entirely, though, and he found himself walking along the line of shops in town, trying to distract himself among the flashing lights, crowds of odd people, and paper lanterns that seem to have been the remains of some long-gone festivity. It was beautiful, but as much as he wanted to lose himself in the spectacle and business, questions and doubts still refused to budge from his mind.
Shore leave was shore leave, though, and although Charleston suspected that their memories would be impossible to ever shake off completely, he thought that maybe an evening of just fun wouldn't be such an insult to them after all.
Goddamn, what would the others think? Charleston mourning for the A.I.? What would Charleston-three-months-ago have thought of himself now? It had been very easy to fall into the habits of thinking of the A.I. as nothing more than operating machines, lines of code and programming similar to the languages and algorithms he sometimes worked with. After all, what was the difference? Charleston knew some of them proclaimed otherwise, and although he had never supported the notion, neither had he ridiculed them.
As simple as it would be to think of the A.I as nothing more than wires and codes, they were more, just as the Agents were. Orion wanted to know, Acadia had enjoyed knitting, and Gemini had been able to pinpoint feelings that he and Charleston had shared (whether or not the A.I. had realized it). He wasn't too keen on his own assigned A.I. partner, he had to admit, but he was fond of many of the others: Sage was a friend, Peter was someone whose opinion he valued, and Ariel's enthusiasm was often infectious. Even those who he wasn't quite as happy with - Leo came to mind immediately, Leo and his disapproval that reminded Charleston on some level of jealousy, perhaps. He hadn't been sure then, and he sure as hell wasn't now.
He stopped in front of something: a craft store. In the window, an artful display showcased a basket as a backdrop for a book, but it wasn't the title that interested Charleston; it was the knitting needles and skeins of wool in the basket that caught his eye and anchored his boots to the sidewalk.
One time he had come across Acadia knitting something - a sweater, perhaps, or a scarf; he didn't remember. Charleston could picture clearly, though, her gracious smile as she offered to teach him the skill and her gentle tone as she tried to explain why she enjoyed the activity so much. She had said something about patterns, something that Charleston himself could relate to.
What would happen to her now?
He swallowed and tried to move on from the display, but he couldn't distance himself from the images of the three deceased A.I. in his mind. The physical vessels were one thing, but did they, like humans, perhaps go somewhere after death? It had been easy to avoid back then, but now he recognized that there had been - no, still was, he corrected himself, a small flicker of something that couldn't be programmed or taught. Charleston couldn't put a name or anything about into words, and he wasn't even sure he wasn't overthinking this entire thing. He allowed himself to humor the idea, though, and move on to continue as if he were sure it was true. What happened to that? Charleston wasn't a religious man by any means, but he liked the idea of an afterlife.
Would they get to go to one? Was there a place for A.I.?
Charleston couldn't answer the question, and it would continue to trouble him deeply for the rest of the afternoon, but he was able to come to one definite desire:
He truly hoped that there was a place for them, and that somewhere, Gemini, Acadia, and Scorpio were finally able to have something for themselves that was completely, unfailingly free from the worries of the Equinox.
