Rita rubbed her chest, trying to locate her sometimes-there, sometimes-not conscience. She had to dig it out and stamp on it.
B80234615: "I want to taste and record the emotion called 'hope.' After you leave, I can simulate this emotion myself.
"I need to simulate this emotion! To nourish my will."
Rita's brows slowly furrowed. First, it offered her an out with a "step down," but now it was trying for a second one.
Perhaps B80234615 could be selfless toward mechanical races, but Rita wasn't one of them.
For things she couldn't understand but found illogical, Rita always assumed there must be a trap.
Any shred of softness she might have felt vanished in an instant, leaving her feeling uninterested. After all, once mechanical races gained wisdom and emotions, they were no different from any other living being.
When she had bantered with B80234615 in the 1211 shopping district, its awkwardness with emotions had seemed genuine, but now, thinking back on it, it felt entirely fake.
