Millie was completely in favour of joining Junior on his impromptu visit.
"This is what makes you an excellent follower," she teased, putting on imperious-sounding airs. "Yes, bring me all the secret opportunities!"
"Aren't you afraid my uncle's cult rivals yours, O' Chosen One?" Junior asked, completely deadpan.
Millie struck a pose, hands on her hips and back straight, nose upturned. "The Great MC's Great Cult of the Great LITRPG fears nothing, not even the Great System itself," she declared.
Junior heard her bombastic tone and finally cracked a smile at her silliness.
Seeing this, Millie quietly allowed herself a victorious fist pump. She was happy to get even this small sign of returning positivity from her friend.
"Alright," Junior said, switching gears, "Let me tell you a bit about Uncle Orestes."
Millie's eyebrows shot up in immediate anticipation. She dropped her exaggerated pose but leaned in attentively, like someone about to be let in on juicy gossip.
"He's intense," Junior continued. "Obsessed with old traditions. Talks like he's in an open amphitheatre playing the Oracle. And he … knows things." He scowled. "Or if he doesn't, he always makes it seem like he does."
"The best kind of relative," Millie couldn't help but quip when he paused. "Unstable but useful."
Junior harrumphed and continued. "He came to hassle me about family drama stuff, then segued smoothly into forgotten destinies and ancient bloodlines." He shook his head and added dryly, "Just repeating it makes me wish I could roll my eyes."
Millie chuckled sympathetically.
"Let's get on with this." Junior let out a breath. "Athena, send a message to Uncle Orestes to let him know I'm coming to visit."
"Message sent," the AI responded almost instantly.
Junior stood, feeling his earlier frustration settle into something sharper, more controlled. "Come on. We should get going. Unless you're having second thoughts? I won't hold it against you."
Instead of replying directly, Millie hopped to her feet. She pointed boldly upwards at something beyond the condo unit's unassuming ceiling.
"Adventure awaits!"
\ - / - \ - /
The downtown core of the city rolled past as the dark red sedan navigated the late afternoon streets. In this section of Nephyra, the aerodynamic curves and modern design of the luxury sedan were eye-catching but not too exceptional. As Galatea's capitol, Nephyra was the island's political, cultural and economic centre. And as the commercial engine of the capitol, the city's downtown core had more than its share of affluent residents and visitors.
Inside the vehicle, Millie hummed idly as she 'tested' (read, 'played with') the interior features. She was currently fiddling with the controls of the deeply cushioned chairs. Her mouth opened in a small 'O' of startled appreciation as her fingers landed on the switch to activate the massage function. With a contented sigh, she leaned back and burrowed further into the chair's sumptuous cushions.
Achilles was seated next to her on his haunches, nose pressed wetly against the glass of a window. When Millie's chair started vibrating, the dog's ears perked up and swivelled towards her, but his eyes remained fixed outside.
"Tell me again how a struggling musician can afford all this?" Millie asked. Her eyes were closed, and her voice reverberated slightly due to the vibrations of the chair.
Junior sat very still, hands folded, posture erect. He'd been preparing himself for a conversation he wasn't sure he wanted, and it took a moment for Millie's question to register.
"I never said I was struggling," he mumbled. "And it's not really mine. It was one of those accessibility vehicles the tr- my uncle gave me a few years back."
Junior nearly stumbled over his words as he tried to avoid bringing attention to his trust fund. He knew it was silly. They were literally on the way to visit his uncle, and he knew there was little to no chance of Orestes not bringing it up, likely sooner than later. But part of him stubbornly wanted to keep his family drama and Millie as far apart as possible.
No matter how unlikely he was to succeed.
Millie cracked an eye open. She'd caught the rather obvious stumble and was naturally curious.
But she could tell by Junior's rigid posture and uncomfortable expression that her friend obviously didn't want to talk about it. So she let it slide.
"Accessibility… like voice controls?" she asked instead.
"And the rest." Junior sighed gratefully and grabbed at the change of subject like a drowning man clinging to a life raft. He tapped the smooth armrest. "No steering wheel, no pedals. Better hazard avoidance." His fingers brushed along a thin, raised strip running the length of the door. "These were designed for people who needed predictable layouts. Not luxury."
Millie snorted softly. "Luxury is absolutely happening," she said, patting the seat. "I'd worship whoever invented this chair."
Junior chuckled uneasily but didn't otherwise respond.
The red sedan slowed as they approached one of Nephyra's main east-west arteries. Traffic thickened ahead, a dense cluster of brake lights stretching block after block.
"Ugh," Millie groused. "Is this normal for a weekday?"
Junior tilted his head, listening. "Do you hear that?"
Millie looked at him quizzically, then tried to focus on her ears. "Hear what?" she asked when she heard nothing.
"Sounds like … chanting? Junior replied.
Then Athena spoke smoothly through the dashboard speakers.
"Unexpected congestion ahead. Estimated delay: nineteen minutes and growing. Cause: public demonstration detouring traffic flow."
Millie pulled her head back inside and turned to look at the vehicle's sparse controls. "So Athena runs the car too? That's pretty cool. She must be more advanced than I realized. Maybe she's synced to the central autonomy core." She peered at the controls closely, as if she expected to find evidence of the AI lurking inside.
Junior gave a small shrug at the technicalities. "She interfaces with it. The car has its own system, but… Athena makes it easier for me."
Millie thumbed a control to lower the windows. The noise Junior had barely heard through the car's soundproofing immediately clarified into the distant chant of an agitated crowd.
"NO MORE MONSTERS! NO MORE RECLAIMED! NO MORE MONSTERS! NO MORE RECLAIMED!"
Junior's shoulders stiffened.
"Oh." Millie's nose wrinkled and her brow furrowed, as if she'd scented something unpleasant. "It's the anti-Reclaimed crowd again." She stuck her head out the window to get a better view.
Junior's lips thinned.
Ever since the first Integration, there'd been growing discontent amongst people across Palea, for a diverse host of reasons: from medical to religious, from public safety and even to jealousy.
Outside, the chanting continued as the car inched forward:
Athena's voice, forever calm and soothing, chimed in over the noise.
"Would you like me to provide alternate routing, Junior?"
The chanting outside surged again, louder this time. Junior's jaw tightened, then he forced himself to relax, breathing out slowly.
"Athena … reroute us. Avoid the protest."
"Of course. Plotting an alternate route now."
It took some time for traffic to inch forward enough for the sedan to redirect from the clogged arterial, slipping down a quieter side street. As they turned the corner, the shouting faded into the distance like a radio being slowly dialled down.
The quiet stretched for several more moments before Millie broke it.
"They're just scared and too dumb to know any better," she said. "It's the Reclaimed who are the victims here."
Junior nodded but didn't speak. Millie reached out towards him, then settled back with a disgruntled 'hrmph' of air.
Junior's thoughts had already turned inward. He struggled with the muddle of unwanted obligations forced upon him by family and the Reclamation System alike.
/ - \ - / - \
They reached the docks just as the afternoon light began to thin. The air smelled of salt and machine oil, the familiar perfume of Nephyra's industrial shoreline. Forklifts hummed in the distance. Metal shutters clattered shut one by one as workers packed up for the day.
Stood out from the rest like a sore thumb, Orestes' warehouse didn't sound like the others. The clang of sheet metal and the rumble of heavy machinery were muted here.
Millie could see that the building clearly wasn't just a warehouse. The car had stopped before a gate. Ornate. Expensive. Out of place in a district full of rusted chains and flimsy padlocks. Above it, metal filigree curled in deliberate patterns, too showy for the neighbourhood, too intricate for anything meant to blend in.
"This is ... different," Millie whispered, wide eyes taking in the incongruous details.
Junior shrugged. "Uncle Orestes is a bit ... theatrical."
Millie frowned. Her eyes narrowed.
"Wait. Orestes ... theatrical ... why does that sound familiar?"
Junior winced and angled his face toward the window, shoulders tightening in a way that would have been subtle on anyone else.
Recognition dawned. Millie's eyes went bright, then sharp as she turned a glare on him.
"Junior. Old buddy, old pal," she growled, menace thick beneath the overtly friendly words. "Is your 'Dear Uncle Orestes' actually the Orestes Stoneberg, by any chance? One of the most influential, well-known, theatrical and richest businessmen in Galatea?"
Junior turned back to Millie as if caught off guard by her comment and smiled with what he hoped came across as innocence.
"Ah. Yes. Of course. Did I forget to mention that?"
Athena chose that moment to interject.
"We have been granted permission to enter The Stoneberg Maritime Heritage House."
The impressive gate chose that moment to begin to swing open silently, as if on its own. The autonomous sedan resumed its motion and glided inside.
Junior chuckled weakly as Millie's glare somehow intensified.
"Uh-huh," she said flatly. "We are definitely going to talk."