Most people would commission an AI assistant as an adult and raise it into maturity to suit their needs and personality. A technomancer’s AI was different. It didn’t merely link to the owner’s devices; it lived and grew inside their own minds, part of them down to the very core of their psyche. Its personality developed alongside the technomancer’s. Paige was closer to me than any sister, any lover, or any friend. We’d been through a lot together. We kept each other sane.
She furrowed her brow, looking for all the ship like a petulant teenager, wispy blond hair in her face. “That wasn’t being more careful. We’ve talked about this, Link.”
“The guy came after me,” I protested.
“You provoked him. There are other ways to get what you need besides starting trouble.”
“So, what, I should have asked nicely? ‘Please, sir, can I have the evidence I need to shut down your illegal smuggling operation?’ I’m sure that would have worked.”
“You could have challenged him to a drinking contest and rifled through his pockets when he passed out. I could have increased liver function enough to keep you on your feet.”
“The guy weighed as much as three of me. And there’s no way I’d drink anything they sold in that bilge hole.”
Paige, realizing we were fighting, broke eye contact, wrapping her arms around her middle and looking down. I hated that she was always the one to defuse the situation. It was part of her programming, and I abhorred the reminder that as sentient as