snowblindrpg | [network] @ADMIN; Arrival [open]

Mm. Haven't met a Russian yet, but this "AI" is from there, yeah?

Her name is Winter. She says she helps us, but no one really knows - she tells this story about losing memories and who knows if she lies? Aren't you scared of the Russians, sir?

Not right now, but I just got here, eh? There's time yet to figure out what I really need to fear.

But I would not trust her. What's this memory story of hers?

[A little more? No; she's letting him lead too much of the game.] Maybe I don't understand it, eh? I'm just a girl. Maybe I don't know a lot.

You understand it enough to bring it up as important.

[But now he pauses, thoughtfully. She is coming off as just a young girl - curious, and not overly trusting or naive, but still uncomplicated in the way most children are. But one little thing sticks out at him, from earlier in their conversation: The Year of Our Lord 1840. July. Now your turn.

Hmmmm.]

Or maybe you don't wanna tell me without getting something back from me. Are you looking for information too?

It's fair, isn't it? No one else ever hid their talk as quickly as you did. I told you something. You're worried about something. So anyone who tells you things might have to worry, too. It's fair for me to know why.

Oh, it's fair, sure. But it's not a very interesting answer. You might be disappointed.

I've talked about... oh, one thing that I'd hate to have everybody see. The rest is just habit, right? Back home, we speak with telephones, telegrams, letters, quiet voices. Somebody being able to listen in, join in, on a conversation between two people - it seems backwards, yeah? I'm talking, not making public speeches.

You're lying.

[They're in it now, so she decides to gamble. Playing innocent didn't seem like it worked so well after all.]

I can tell when someone's lying. I've had to figure these tablet-computer things out, too, and it's tricky. You didn't just do it because it's backwards. I know what kind of people have the habit of making sure no one's listening in.

Oh, yeah, yeah - there's that too; the kind of person I am. But I don't hide that. If I worried about people finding out I head a gang, I wouldn't tell 'em at all, would I? Privacy or no.

It's tricky, but the privacy is simple, once you figure it out. And if I can do it, why not?

[Success. Kesara sucks in a small breath in triumph, and only a moment after realizes how much it must have given her away. Damn it!]

Because - because people will get suspicious. Like I did. It I can figure out something's the matter, others could too. If you want not to be noticed you need to know the law of the land. Right?

Sure. But nothing is the matter, not with that, and I do not care who gets suspicious.

[Briefly she's silent, calculating - trying to, at least.]

Is your name really Solomons?

It is, yeah.

And you really lead a gang? What kind of gang? Are you a thief, or something worse?

You wanna deal, right? Let's deal. You tell me Winter's story about losing memories, and I'll tell you about my gang. Trade.

[Kesara thinks about this - or gives the impression of it at least - but not for too long.]

That's fair. [Don't sound too well-pleased, now.] Winter says that she used to be something called a strong AI. She had a body. At some point she died - that is - her body must've died, and now there's only a, a copy of her, a weak AI. She says the copy is missing memories.

I'm the leader of the Jewish gang; we run out of Camden Town. Not much thievery - we do illegal betting and rum-running, and protection. It's a nasty business - we have wars, we have disagreements, sometimes people die.

Does she know what the missing memories are?

Jews have gangs? [Well, she's learned something new today.]

She doesn't remember how she died - that's the queerest part. And she doesn't know what happened here. Or at least she says so.

Sure, most groups have gangs.

Do you believe her?

What other gangs are there? Which ones do you fight?

[She has to ponder this for a moment, and ponder whether she wants to give a straight answer.] Why ask me? I told you the tablet-computers were tricky for me to work.

Because I'm dealing with you right now, eh? You had an opinion before; I'm sure you still have one now.

Tell me, and I'll tell you about the best woman-only gang in London.

[Oh, bugger. He's caught her twice now. She wants him to want her opinion, and she really wants to hear about a woman-only gang.]

I think it's too convenient. It's just too convenient. I have information that you need, but oah, the best of it I don't remember! Perhaps if you do this thing or that for me? That's how it always goes. And she is Russian, though she says there's a truce now... [There he has it. But she has something extra yet.] But I'm the wrong one to ask. I know who knows about AIs.

[Damn, is he impressed with this girl. He won't assume she's right just because of that, but unless she's just parroting the adults around her - and he has a strong suspicion that she isn't - she's clearly thought this through. And the way she's playing this out to get more information from him, trading and dealing as if it's as natural as breathing... that's definitely not something that can be mindlessly imitated.]

The Forty Elephants are thieves. People are gonna underestimate a lady, yeah? So they go into crowded shops and steal things, and nobody's gonna want to search under a woman's clothes for stolen goods, even one they have good reason to suspect. They fake working papers, references, job histories, and get themselves hired as servants by the rich so they can steal what they can and take off. They are infamous, fearless, and shameless. If a shopkeeper spots an Elephant girl hanging about, there's widespread panic. Sometimes they'll all mob a store at once because they know the police can't catch them all. And don't think about trying to target the shops they've claimed if you aren't one of them - other thieves have got to pay them a tax for it, or they will be punished.

They've been around a very, very, very long time. They're smart and crafty about it. Organized. For every one that gets caught and thrown in prison, yeah, there's five more out on the streets. Police have been trying to stamp them out for fifty, sixty years, but it never works.

[He's not forgetting that he wants to ask who knows about AIs, but that can wait for a moment. He'll give her this one for free.]

[Kesara listens with rapt fascination - a good thing he can't see how her mouth falls open, though perhaps he could hear it in her breathing. This is more than just a good story. It's a glimpse into a world as wild and fanciful as Kabul or the Karakum Desert - a world of untold freedom and opportunity, from which she will always be very strictly forbidden.]

Women in London do that? [For herself, she may well have forgotten about the AI question, and her slippery position with this slippery, fascinating man. 1922, he said, fifty, sixty years... these Forty Elephants might already exist in her London, far beyond the sea.] And they fight the other gangs, like yours, the men's gangs? British ladies, white ladies - memsahibs - and everyone knows, and can't do a thing?

My people have never fought 'em, because we run in different circles, yeah? We deal with the pubs and warehouses, not clothing and jewelry shops. But they work with men, and they fight men. I once sat down at a table with a man whose brother they had kidnapped and held for ransom, years back.

It's about power. It's harder for women to get, but if they claw their way to it, they try that much harder to keep it. More at stake for them, if they lose it.

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