No one clapped, or snorted in derision, or whispered a snide comment at the level of ass-kissing happening from the podium. Eva was surprised; usually rich people were constantly teetering on the verge of snark. Maybe they were overwhelmed by the vibes Damaal was putting out. Or they really were that far up their own asses.
Mala’s tail whipped back and forth. She certainly harbored no such illusions about the greatness of anyone here, except maybe herself.
“Garilia’s recent history has been one of turmoil and insecurity,” Damaal continued. “Upon joining the collective of sentient species and discovering the boundlessness that awaited us beyond the borders of our own planet, we fell into greed and hostility, at odds with our selfless natures. But through the bravery of our people and their allies, we have overcome this adversity and emerged stronger, more resilient, and eager to continue our growth as we lead at the forefront of advancement for all star systems and their creatures.”
Pretentious, given how recently the planet had joined up with the rest of the universe, but everyone there seemed to be eating that shit with a spoon. It wasn’t as if robots weren’t pervasive already; what made these designs special? That they looked like cute animals? That they could transform? That they fit in impossibly small containers?
Maybe that was it; the folks here were expecting to be able to reverse-engineer the tech for themselves, or that no one else would be able to do it, so they’d be rolling in credits for having something no one else could reproduce. Eva had only peripherally been aware of industrial espionage as a problem because of her dad, who had dabbled in it himself on occasion. It could be huge money, but it was also a galaxy of lawsuits waiting to happen, especially since Garilia was still under BOFA protection.
Of course, that must be part of it. Anyone who stole from Garilia would be subject to a slew of harsh punishments because Garilia was still integrating into the universe-wide federation. To avoid colonization or exploitation of resources—or at least the appearance of either—there were strict protections in place for fledgling star systems. Crooks from outside might still sneak in and cause problems, but if they got caught, they were in serious trouble.
And that meant any tech from Garilia, if it were special enough, would be worth a fortune. The combination of novelty and scarcity would be like catnip to people with the disposable income to snag it before it was being sold more widely.
Damaal was still talking, mostly fluff and flattery until finally she said, “And now, we hope you will humor us with a brief demonstration of the latest model. We call it—”
Eva’s translators supplied “Firespeaker” after a brief stutter; probably had to process a quick update since the xana language was still an ongoing translation project. Brand and product names were always a fun problem.
At first nothing seemed to happen, but then a shadow passed overhead, difficult to spot as it was a dark orange that nearly blended into the sunset sky. It moved like a large bird, gliding more than flying—antigrav tech, maybe? But as it looped around and dove toward the roof, it became more visible, its form like a todyk or a dragon out of Earth’s old fiction. Just as it came close enough to buzz the crowd, it roared and shot a gout of flame from its long snout, the heat so intense it made the skin on Eva’s face tighten.
Mala hissed, her fur bristling against the sliver of Eva’s exposed neck.
A collective “ooh” and similar appreciative noises went up from the audience as the robot landed on the floor below Damaal. It was a little taller than Eva, given where its head landed compared to the Watcher standing next to it, but its wings spread out twice as far, its fake skin the color of the impending twilight. It didn’t move, simply waited for its next command impassively.
“This model, like the others, is based on one of our Attuned,” Damaal said, emanating pride. “It is comparable to a fully grown specimen, with all its inherent abilities as well as the expected upgrades. But as promised, the Firespeaker can do what the Attuned cannot.”
The robot briefly glowed a purplish-pink color that was eerily familiar to Eva. With a sound like a series of strange whooshes and quiet pings, it shrank in on itself, losing at least a half meter in height, the wings disappearing entirely and the head becoming more rounded. It was an impossible transformation; something as big as its prior form shouldn’t have been able to change like this, into something so much smaller, and yet here it was. And the whole thing would eventually be able to fit into a capsule she could hold in one hand, which was even more unbelievable.
Eva thought of the pieces of glittering metal and polymer spread across the table in her mother’s temporary residence, and wondered.
“All of the Pod Pals can shift back and forth between the various growth stages of the Attuned, as desired by those who possess them,” Damaal said. “Each stage is capable of all its natural abilities, and as our engineers continue their diligent and genius work, we expect to release advanced technologies in the future to implement additional upgrades.”
Probably for an extra fee, Eva thought. That was where this shit got people; all the microtransactions and add-ons.
The robot glowed again and shifted once more with the same mechanical whooshing sound, and now it was a small creature, like a smooth todyk baby. It made an adorable “cha” sound, then with another flash of pink, it vanished into the capsule Damaal held in her claw.
“We thank you for your presence and your continued support,” Damaal said. “It is our fond hope that you will join us for a more robust demonstration of the capabilities of our technology, at the Grand Tournament to be held in two cycles. At the conclusion of the ritual Attuned combat, we will host a special battle between a team of Attuned and our own Pod Pals, for your viewing pleasure.”
Eva raised an eyebrow. Robots versus regular animals? That didn’t sound very fair, though if they were supposed to have the same abilities, maybe it wouldn’t be too unbalanced. Still, she’d never been a fan of cockfighting in any incarnation, whatever their temporary tour guide Krachi had insisted about it being done humanely.
With any luck, they’d have Josh by then, and Garilia would be eating their plutonium exhaust as they made a run for the nearest Gate.
Damaal’s psychic tone ramped up even as she began to disengage. “We are honored to be the harbingers of a new era of peace and prosperity for all members of the Benevolent Organization of Federated Astrostates and beyond. May the Light embrace you all as it has embraced us, and may you carry it with you to distant stars. Until the Light touches all things.”
“Until the Light touches all things,” the xana in the room responded, their psychic emanations reverent and proud.
It was the pride that put Eva on edge. Sure, it was nice to feel good about your accomplishments, to get a boost of self-confidence to keep you striving. But pride could be flipped easily to overconfidence, condescension, and it was a quick leap from that to thinking you knew what was best for other people and trying to force them to agree. To taking away freedom for someone’s own good.
Not that unrestricted freedom was the best plan, either. Or some mythical moderation. Foh, it was all one big arroz con mango. And here Eva was, picking sides again, adding salt to the pot when this wasn’t even her kitchen.
Damaal had retreated, signaling the end of speechmaking and the return to revelry. Even Mala had settled back to her previously relaxed position, her fur once again soft, claws retracted. Eva scanned the room again, and this time she saw the faint green glow Sue had told her would mark her target. Pink must have found someone. Whoever it was, they were across the room on a slightly lower level, near a bar-like drink-dispenser setup if her memory was accurate.