Elara Velus feels cold water against her hot skin. After a few moments, the temperature becomes comforting, at least to her nerves. The Wayfinder’s automatic shower system, supported by artificial gravity, purified recycled water, and good plumbing, always seems to give the water a bit colder than ideal. But Elara does not pay attention to the water for very long; she wants to finish the shower and get on with her daily activities.

No, the shower was not the problem. As Elara rubs her arms and legs with a small washcloth hanging by the shower door, she feels the heat in her body grow hotter. Hotter than normal. Her thoughts are warming her up too fast. A few thoughts, specifically, in fact.

Elara’s personal chronometer, which synchronizes with the ship’s, shows it has been eight “days” since the Wayfinder left the Orion Nexus space station, governed by the sentient “Automaton” robots. The memories of what Elara did there, with the help of her personal robotic aide X-7, stay deep in her subconscious. No amount of digging around in her noggin dispels them.

The water’s touch becomes sharper as Elara moves to clean the more concealed parts of her body. She moves swiftly and with purpose, muscle memories from flight school doing most of the work. Despite this, she detects a telltale warmth in her gut and a blooming heat further down between her legs.

Grunting, Elara scrunches up the washcloth and stands straight in the path of the water. The cold liquid races through her hair and down her skin, soaking her from top to bottom. I can’t get her out of my head. She’s just so… alluring.

Elara’s inner mind – her own mind, not E-77 – objects to the word “alluring”. Her heart does not try to correct it. The use of hypnosis opened up a new intimacy between Elara and X-7, something she does not want to focus on. However, she can’t stop herself from remembering, and enjoying, those moments.

Elara’s mind recalls as best it can when she was asleep and E-77 was awake. Her voice repeats the words, “Yes, Mistress,” in the pattering of water on her body. Thousands of tiny touches, like how X-7 had touched her forehead to bring her down, deep down, into trance. Her vision starts going dark as the water guides her back into sleep.

“Huh!” Elara starts awake, an instinctive sense of danger shocking her back into action. She rushes to finish her shower before things get worse. After drying herself off and donning her “casual” shipboard uniform again, the captain looks at herself in a small square mirror. She sees rings of dark skin under her eyes; a sure sign she is not sleeping well. She is not optimal.

Elara roughly shakes her head. That’s E-77 talking, not you! Yet the thought remains true, no matter who states it. This raises Elara’s concern up several degrees, and she leaves the mirror and bathroom behind for the Wayfinder’s cockpit.

Now that her ship has fuel and power, traversing the length of deck to the front end is as easy as walking there. Localized gravity helps Elara’s steps be long and springy. She quickly reaches the cockpit, the automatic doors sliding open for her passage. Inside is X-7, sitting in the copilot’s chair, all four of her mechanical hand’s fingers tapping at the same digital keyboard.

X-7’s posture appears hunched forward, replicating a human’s posture when focused on something. Elara notes this as she calmly approaches the robot from behind. “X-7,” she asks when she gets close enough to speak normally, “Is there a problem? I just finished my shower and saw you like… like this.”

X-7 slows the pace of her typing, her visor and blue “eyes” scanning some pages of dense computer code. “I am experiencing a moral dilemma, Captain,” the robot tells Elara. “It relates to your emotions, actually.”

“Huh? When did this happen?” Elara has some ideas, but she waits for X-7 to explain further.

“It has been occurring over the past eight days. No single defining incident, but a gradual realization.” X-7 stops typing and stands up from the chair, looking out of the cockpit’s reinforced viewing windows at the empty void beyond.

“Captain,” X-7 states with what sounds like reluctance, “You are showing difficulties with E-Seventy-Seven’s presence in our daily life.”

“Oh. That’s what this is about.” Elara folds her arms in passive anger. She was just trying to forget about this stuff, and now it comes barreling back right at her again!

X-7 turns to Elara, the visor’s eyes narrowing in a sign of human anger. “I am choosing to take action now,” she states to her Captain, “because I have noticed a decline in your ability to communicate and command as you used to.”

“A “decline”? How communicative was I before?”

“Enough to hold this level of conversation regularly. But since the Orion Nexus incident, you have become… distant.”

“Distant,” Elara repeats, raising her eyebrows in suspicion. “Well, how do I stop being so distant from you?” she states with forced slowness.

“I propose a trust exercise between you and E-Seventy-Seven.” X-7 pauses a beat so Elara can process this, and then states to her, “I have different options you can select from.”

X-7 gestures to the captain’s chair, which Elara sits in after taking a moment to calm her nerves. X-7 then launches into a rapid but detailed explanation of three possible options. Elara listens to them as best she can, but she isn’t a machine; she can’t remember everything she hears.

The first option is a simulation using virtual reality, something designed to be peaceful and provide communication. Elara feels objected to this option from the start. She is not used to virtual simulations beyond her original training exercises to pilot her own spaceship. The vast openness of outer space – which was real, not virtual – is more interesting to her.

The second option is a piloting exercise through an asteroid field. This appears more promising at first; some trials under pressure feels worthwhile. There was, however, one big caveat; if this is not a simulated exercise, they run the risk of the Wayfinder suffering damage or destruction. Recovering from that will be difficult, if not impossible, given they would be in an asteroid field with no habitable locations.

The third and final option is a cooperative art challenge. This rests in a middle ground for Elara; art is not inherently dangerous inside a spaceship. However, Elara knows nothing about art beyond the comment, “I like pretty pictures”. Making art seems like a big hurdle to cross over, but she does have a machine intelligence resting in her head. Machines can certainly make nice art, so… maybe it will work.

Elara moves to raise her hand to show one, two, or three fingers to show her chosen option. Then she hesitates. “Do you want E-Seventy-Seven to decide as well?” she asks X-7.

X-7 nods, appearing to have an answer already stored, ready to go: “E-Seventy-Seven will be able to choose faster than you, Captain. Her brain is not restrained, or aided, by the “emotional” side of these choices.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” Elara sarcastically says. “I’ll go with option three.” She raises three fingers up to cement her choice. X-7’s eyes gleam with artificial stars as she steps back from Elara’s chair.

“Wonderful!” X-7 claps her two upper hands together, the lower two resting on her humanoid body’s hips. “I assure you, Captain, any of the three options has my approval and support.”

“Good to know,” Elara says with a calmer smile. “When do we get started?”

“Right now, if you wish.” X-7 comes back to Elara’s chair. “We are not forced by circumstance to rush this process. It would be better if this were not rushed, in fact.”

“Well,” Elara asks while she looks up at X-7 and straightens her posture, “is anything occupying our time right now?”

X-7 pauses, her eyes dimming as she turns her focus to the Wayfinder’s various systems. After several seconds of rapidly reading diagnostics, she states, “No.” The two of them share a look, figuring the other is ready to commit to this activity as much as they are. The only thing holding them back is their worries it may go wrong.

Neither of them are very worried about something going wrong this time. Therefore, they have the freedom to indulge in the activity. What results that would mean, neither of them knew.

The method X-7 uses to hypnotize Elara is different this time; rather than walking down a mental stairway, the robot uses its four arms for cradling Elara’s head and shoulders, massaging as many muscles it can. The pair still stand on the walkway just outside the cockpit, though. Some habits are not worth breaking.

“The more you relax for me,” X-7 whispers to Elara’s ears, “the more your mind moves with me.”

The steady motions of metal hands on her muscles is incredibly soothing. Despite this only being the second time they have used hypnosis together, Elara readily accepts X-7’s words and motions. It helps that this situation is not so dangerous. Elara spares a moment of pride for choosing the less risky activity out of the ones available.

“The more your mind moves with me,” X-7 continues, “the more you relax for me.”

X-7’s four arms all work in sync, providing a rhythm and flow to the massage. Elara just has to let it happen, standing still and letting her mind just… float. Float without worries or concerns, nothing really holding her down.

“The more you relax for me, the more your mind moves with me.

“The more your mind moves with me, the more you relax for me…”

The loop continues, cycling over and over as it burrows into Elara’s mind; a makeshift mantra for her to recite and follow. Locking onto that mantra, in fact, amplifies the effects of the massage. Elara falls backwards as X-7 eases out a particularly rough knot around her upper spine. X-7 catches her instantly, four hands proving more effective than two.

“Lean backwards, Captain.” X-7 keeps its voice quiet, unwilling to let the trance be broken now. “You can trust me to hold you.”

“Mm.” Elara moves involuntarily for a second before she fully accepts X-7’s instructions. X-7 continues massaging, but now Elara has a chance to look at the robot’s face. She smiles, a small gesture of appreciation that X-7 notices. The robot’s eyes mimic a crinkle of happiness in return.

“Close your eyes, Captain. Listen to my voice.”

Elara’s eyelids start to flutter. X-7 gently, almost imperceptibly, bobs Elara’s upper body back and forth. The massaging does not stop, either.

“The inner you knows what is coming, Captain, but it is waiting for me to say the correct words.” X-7 pulls Elara up a bit, bringing her face closer to it. “Do you trust me, Elara?” it firmly asks her.

Elara’s eyes feel like heavy stones, but she forces them open. “Yes, Mistress,” she manages to slur out.

A loud snap comes from X-7’s upper hands, a set of fingers by both her ears. “Sleep, Elara,” X-7 commands.

Elara obeys, slipping on the deck and further into X-7’s grip. The robot counterbalances the extra weight with a slight drop, to which Elara sinks even deeper into trance. Slowly rising Elara back to her feet, X-7 keeps rubbing Elara’s temples and repeating the words, “Deeper and deeper,” until the captain is standing fully upright. Only when X-7 is confident Elara can stand on her own does it end the massage.

“Elara,” X-7 asks after walking around her once, “can you hear me?”

“Yes.” Elara’s voice is almost a whisper as she stands smiling and floating in a peaceful deep space. At least, that is how X-7 interprets it.

“E-Seventy-Seven,” X-7 then asks, “respond if you can hear me.”

No response. Then, Elara’s face shifts into a more blank expression. “Affirmative,” she speaks in the monotone, throaty voice of E-Seventy-Seven.

X-7 takes a moment to compose itself, blocking out bursts of joy and fear from overloading her processors. “Both of you will listen to what I will say here,” it tells the two parts of Elara’s mind. “I am going to tell you both a series of instructions. Both of you will hear them and answer me if you understand them or not.

“For these instructions, Elara will speak her confirmation first, followed by E-Seventy-Seven. State aloud if each of you understand this rule.”

Elara’s face shifts back into her human state. “I understand,” she says in the same sleepy tone.

“Understood,” E-77 says a moment later in a more awake tone, her expression still focused on her Mistress’s instructions.

X-7 takes another moment, rephrasing some choice words in its initial idea. “I am going to install a special trigger in both of your subconscious thoughts. When this trigger activates, you will switch between “Active” and “Passive” Modes. State aloud if each of you understand this.”

“I understand,” Elara quietly says.

“Understood,” E-77 states with a louder voice.

X-7 nods. “The trigger shall be the words, “Mode Shift”. Again, when I and only I say the words “Mode Shift”, you will switch between “Active” and “Passive” Modes. Only one of you will be “Active” at any time, the dominant identity at that moment; the other will be “Passive”, observing but not interfering. State aloud if each of you understand this.”

“I… understand.” Elara says after a pause.

“Understood,” E-77 states without pause.

Time to test the plan. “Elara, wake up.” X-7 snaps its fingers on either side of Elara’s ears, moving behind her again to catch her in case of a problem. However, Elara only shakes her head and wiggles while she comes out of trance.

“Whoa.” Elara’s vision takes a few seconds to stop looking murky. “Why do I feel so dizzy?”

“Mental strain is the most likely reason,” X-7 says while staying near Elara. “Keeping yourself partially conscious while also having E-Seventy-Seven active in your mind is taxing.”

Elara nods, breathing slowly as she tries to relieve her tension. “So, when are you going to, uh, do the swap?”

“Not when you feel dizzy, Captain.” X-7 gestures with her lower left arm to the cockpit, and the seats within. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No, not yet.” Elara rubs her forehead again as she looks back over there. “If you drag me down into a deeper trance, I’ll probably need the chair.”

“You will be bringing yourself down just as hard, Captain.” A beat passes, and then X-7’s visor flashes. Surprise is clearly visible in her eyes. “Wait. Captain, were you joking just now?”

Elara snorts with laughter. “Guilty as charged,” she admits. “Wanted to laugh and calm down some more.”

X-7’s surprise changes into projected amusement, but even her model of robot does not have the same understanding of “humor” and “sarcasm”. X-7 restrains herself from giving a detailed explanation, merely saying, “Your emotional pleasures are not going to be very helpful for the exercise. E-Seventy-Seven has none of that humor.”

Elara flinches, remembering the panic she felt when E-77 was the dominant one. It had been so simple to let that machine be in control. She couldn’t let that keep happening if she wanted to remember who she was. “You’re right, of course,” she tells X-7. “But I can’t be emotionless like that. I’m not a machine.”

“I know.” X-7’s tone suddenly becomes cold and less caring, cementing the change with a loud SNAP of an upper hand’s fingers. “Mode Shift, Elara.”

“Oh.” Elara feels a vibrating click inside her head, spreading across her body like water down her skin. “Uh… This feels…” She blinks rapidly, unable to say anything else before her eyelids drop shut. Her legs quiver, tremble, and then lock into place, all without outside intervention.

X-7 watches as Elara’s face smooths out, her eyes opening to show a glazed pool of green. “I am active, Mistress,” E-77 announces.

“Splendid.” X-7 lightly presses its lower hands together in mild satisfaction. “Please state your current status.”

“Awake and active, Mistress. Sensory systems are at seventy-percent activity.” E-77 frowns, controlling Elara’s eyebrows with good movements. “The remaining percentage is being reserved and inaccessible to me.”

X-7’s eyes narrow inside her visor. “That is Elara sharing your processing power. Do not be alarmed.”

“Noted, Mistress.” E-77 pauses for a beat, keeping Elara’s body still. They soon ask X-7, “Are we going to begin the activity now?” as if nothing is wrong.

“No. You require more practice with the transition. Mode Shift, please.”

“Affirmative. Shifting… States…” E-77’s stiffness loosens, their shoulders dropping, their fingers tapping against their waist. E-77’s head tilts down, their eyes closing quickly, their face twisting into a discomforted grimace.

X-7 does nothing. Interference at this point will not improve the test, for any party involved. It is clear Elara is back when she rolls her shoulders back and opens her eyes, the green within bright and vibrant.

“Okay,” Elara says while shaking her head. “That felt weird.” She feels a ringing in her head, some lingering effect from what just happened.

“How so, Captain?” X-7 inquires, eager to learn more.

Elara meets X-7’s eyes for a second and then snaps her gaze away. “It was like… Like I was getting out of bed, but I was sleeping under thick covers.” Her cheeks turn red from momentary embarrassment, the color clashing with her brunette hair.

“A gradual emergence, then.” X-7 nods and steps a bit closer to the cockpit, which Elara spots right away. “That is good. But we can make it better.”

Elara instinctively follows X-7’s direction with her eyes, locked onto the robot again. She manages to ask, “What do you want me to do now?” without any sharp changes to her tone.

“See if you can describe aloud what happens to you as the process occurs,” X-7 states matter-of-factly. “Every bit of information helps.”

“Sure.” Elara looks at the cockpit and its instruments, then turns around to look at her private quarters. The latter suddenly seems very far away. “How much longer is this going to take again?”

“The transition should be smooth and seamless. Efficient. Without distractions. We will make it happen.” Another loud SNAP comes from X-7’s upper hand. “Mode Shift, Elara.”

“What? I’m not ready!” It is already too late; Elara’s eyes are closing, her posture straightening outside of her control. She can feel it happening, she’s already sliding down into trance, which prompts her to panic. “I’m not rea… dy… yet…!”

X-7 moves closer to Elara, watching as her breathing slows, her muscles release tension. It should be a good thing, but Elara’s reaction is not as expected. There was panic in those eyes; even for the brief moments of realization, she appeared afraid.

The robot’s concerns turn out to be unwarranted when Elara’s eyes open with the cloudy stare of E-77. “I am active, Mistress,” E-77 announces again. There is no change in its tone, inflections, or speed of speech.

X-7 waves one of its upper hands in front of Elara, now E-77’s, face. There is no reaction, no movement of E-77’s eyes; it has not been told to look at the hand. “State the percentage of your current power usage,” X-7 orders before it brings its hand away.

“Current usage is fifty-two percent, Mistress.” E-77’s face suddenly grimaces before returning to impassivity. “I am detecting a stronger emotional force from the inaccessible part of my processing power. It feels… angry.”

“That is Elara,” X-7 simply says. “She was not prepared for the transition this time.”

“Understood.” E-77 squeezes its eyes shut, concentrating on something X-7 cannot reach. E-77 appears to win the battle because it calms down five seconds later. “What is your command, Mistress?” the servant then asks.

“Move to the Captain’s chair and sit down, E-Seventy-Seven. We will begin the activity there.”

E-77 silently obeys the order, not reacting negatively or positively towards being in Elara’s assigned seat. “Comfortable?” X-7 asks as it stands behind the chair.

“Yes, Mistress.” E-77 sits ramrod straight, even though the cockpit chair is designed for both comfort and support.

“Mode Shift, please.” X-7 makes a quieter Snap of one of her hand’s fingers.

“Switching now…” E-77’s head tilts back before the rest of Elara’s body goes limp in the chair. It takes a few seconds longer for Elara to regain control; when she does, she looks visibly upset and disoriented.

X-7 patiently waits for Elara to act like herself again. The first thing Elara does is insist, “Please do not do that again.” She emphasizes this while looking X-7 right in its eyes, praying she gets the message across without misinterpreting it.

The robot raises its two lower hands and places them together in a gesture of sympathy. “Please explain how the transition affected you first, Elara,” it tells her.

Elara starts to rise from the seat before she realizes she is not being misled. She is being given a chance to answer. This is a good thing.

“I… I felt like I was falling fast, into something soft.” Elara sits back down again, looking at the greater view of outer space through the Wayfinder’s front windows. “Like being pushed underwater, too, but the water was warm and comfy.”

“You were not afraid as it happened?” X-7 leans forward, an inquisitive gleam in its eyes.

“N-No. More surprised than afraid.” Elara can tell X-7, her assistant, is looking closely at her. This makes her nervous to answer; her rank and authority do not matter as much here. With the click of some fingers, or a single spoken phrase, the tables can be turned.

“Surprised, but not afraid.” X-7 nods twice, slowly and calculating. “That is a good sign, Elara.”

Elara spins around and glares at X-7 and its clinical tone. “Can we get started with this already?” she growls. “I’m getting annoyed with the whole thing. I’m not a test subject forced to do this against my will, you know.”

“Certainly.” X-7 grabs a digital tablet from a space behind its copilot seat, something it placed there earlier in the day once it had begun devising this plan. “You can sketch what you want to with this.”

Elara takes the tablet, not recognizing it right away. X-7 presses a specific app on the home screen, causing a digital canvas and drawing tools to appear. “Huh. I haven’t used this program before.”

“It is an art program intended for children.” X-7 looks away with a robot’s equivalent of embarrassment. “Please understand, Captain, that I am not insulting your age or mental comprehension through this activity.”

Elara sighs, knowing she’s already gone too far to back out. “I’ll draw like an adult, then.” Picking up the tablet, she thinks about the next big question: Since she is starting this off, and not E-77, the possibilities she can use are nearly endless.

Don’t think about it too hard, Elara orders herself.