[color=662d91][center][h2]Audrey Knight[/h2][/center]
[hr][/color]

The mask really had been designed well - it fit around her chin and over her nose easily, as soft and snug as a glove. It was comfortable enough that she knew she could easily fall asleep in it, but that was a bad habit - she might come to rely on it, if she kept it on too often. Three hours when she woke up in the morning, and three hours before she went to bed. That was what the doctor had said.

Audrey took a few breaths, experimentally, feeling the cybernetics in her chest whir as her lungs expanded and contracted. With one hand, she brushed the hair out of her face, shuffling across her room to her dresser and selecting one of her many black bodysuits; not for the first time, she wondered who had decided that clothes made to fit chest augments should almost all be skintight.

In the corner of the room, the Black Box stared at her, its unblinking holographic 'eye' casting a dull blue light over the otherwise dark room. It wouldn't do for it to be so creepy, not if it was to fulfill its intended function. Maybe one of these days she'd ask Maeve or Rois for ideas on making it look... friendlier. "Black Box," she called out, "Run To-Do Program."

The monolith's holographic eye shimmered. "To-Do Program," it repeated in a voice identical to Audrey's own, "Enhance my translation protocols: pictographs, effective? Debug summary subroutine. Complete main-drive AI programming. Manufacture self-repair system. Acquire a suitable definition for the term, 'love.'" 

"Is that all," Audrey muttered, pulling her tablet off her bed and flipping to her private messages. She'd need to let the hub supervisor she reported to know that the bartender-bot she'd been supposed to fix and which was currently laying on her floor in several pieces would take another few days. "And how are you doing today, Black Box?"

"I am doing ice cream."

Audrey sighed without looking up from the message she was drafting. "You are not doing ice cream, Black Box. You are doing [i]well.[/i]"

"Error: Files show ice cream is synonymous with well."

"Ice cream is not synonymous with well. Try again. How are you doing today, Black Box?"

"I am doing chocolate bar."

Audrey brought a gloved hand to her face, the metallic sound of her breathing through the mask filling the room. The Black Box had come a long way since the planning phase, but it (she?) had even further to go if it was going to serve its purpose. Once it was done, it would serve as the last, worst hope for humanity - a final creation to educate those who followed about their lives, their triumphs and failures, to prove that they had existed. If the worst happened, there would still be one human voice in the stars - a high-pitched and Australian one, but still.

She sent the message with a tap of her finger and skimmed through her inbox. There was one unread message, from Dr. Ian Ferguson - a young man who'd worked with her on Project Prometheus. He was one of the most outspoken members of the unrest groups calling for elections, and was always trying to get her to come to one of their meetings. [i]I'm doing this for you,[/i] the message read. [i]What happens if these damn Martian soldiers outlaw cybernetics? How will you [b]breathe?[/b][/i]

She flicked the message away and turned to the Black Box as someone knocked at her door. "Go away, I'm dead!" she shouted, without looking away from the tablet.