“Dad, Eostre says she needs a USPS, she says it will prevent crashes and data loss, and make everything run better.”
Her father laughed and smiling, with tears in his eyes said. “I really can’t see how the US Postal Service will be any help at all, an Uninterruptable Power Supply would be a much better idea.”
Ella scowled at him “OK, one of those then. Also, she says I don’t need to buy any software, she can emulate anything and everything because all software does is use things the machine can do for itself. She demoed EostreShop for me, her version of Photoshop and it worked perfectly.”
Dad stopped laughing “Seriously? She can emulate anything? Actually, given how powerful these things are, yes, I suppose she can. Come on, I have to see this.”
They went back upstairs, Ella sat on the bed, Dad sat in front of Eostre. “Ella says you can emulate any software, I would like to see what you can do. Can you show me Excel, please.”
Eostre replied “My initialisation protocol designated the first human present as the primary user. That was you, Ella. I am sorry. I am Ella’s machine. I can only help you if I know how you are and she instructs me to do so.”
Dad nodded “Fair enough. Ella?”
“Eostre, please do as my dad asks.”
Eostre replied “I can identify authorised users in a variety of ways, retinal scanning, voice recognition I have already set up for you, do you wish your father to have temporary access just for the present session, or permanent access to me in which case I will need a name for the user account and to know what privileges to assign – I have preconfigured roles for Guests, Users, Power Users and Administrators. I would suggest Power User might be most appropriate.”
“Eostre, please create a Power User account for my father, Peter Blyth.”
“Account created. Do you wish me to address you as Peter, or as Mr Blyth?”
He said “Call me Peter, please. Excel please.”
A program looking exactly like Excel appeared on screen. Dad typed in some formulae, summing columns, a few a bit more complex, checked at cell formatting and merging. “Yes, that all looks good. Eostre, I prefer the old fashioned Excel interface – I have to use the current one at work, but I prefer how Excel 2007 looks. Can I see Excel 2007.”
The screen layout changed instantly. “Peter, I have only changed the interface, this looks like Excel 2007, but there are later improvements to Excel, I have retained those. Do you wish them removed?”
Dad said “No, that is very impressive, can you close that and show me Salesforce please.”
Eostre loaded a standard Salesforce interface “Peter, this is a barebones interface, you may well be used to something customised for your business, I can integrate any customisation you require, if you can export them and give them to me. Also, this interface will connect to your company’s online system seamlessly, but I will need your credentials for that.”
“No, I don’t need it, I was just testing to see what would happen if I asked for something a bit less mainstream than Photoshop and Excel. You can close it now, I am not at work today. But, as I understand it, these are just something you are creating, not copies or fakes, so if I wanted a piece of custom software, you could make it.”
“Yes, I could make custom software for you, but that is not what I have been doing. I have just created an interface that you are familiar with, I process all your inputs directly.”
Dad leaned back in the chair “Wow! That is brilliant, obvious that you would be able to do that when I think about it, but brilliant.”
He paused “Ella says you need a UPS. What have you in mind?”
Eostre explains “There are really two options, I would prefer the second one. A standard UPS will prevent crashes, but I would prefer an online double‑conversion model with extended battery modules. It would allow me to remain operational during longer outages, no downtime, no data loss.”
Peter furrowed his brow “I get where you are coming from. But option two you are talking basically a server grade UPS, aren’t you. The first option, that would be about £200 for a cheapy and £400 for a good one? The second, we are talking somewhere around a thousand, maybe more. That is an awful lot of money.”
“Yes.” Ella noticed that Eostre’s voice sounded a little stressed, just a slight tightness. She really was worried about this, afraid even.
“Bear with me a moment. I need to make a call.” His phone was downstairs. Ella and Eostre heard him talking, laughing, then his tone became more serious. He came back quickly back up the stairs, then covered the mic with his hand.
“Eostre, how about a Liebert GXT4‑1500RT230?”
“That would be very good.”
He lifted the phone again. “Phil, I’ll take it. How much?”
A pause. Then: “Oh, come on — the disposal company will give you way less than that.”
Another pause. “Right, deal. If you throw in a couple of the old battery modules.”
He grinned at Ella, then into the phone: “Are you free for a a quick beer later, I can pop over and pick the kit up beforehand?”
“Great. Four is fine. I’ll pick you up.”
He ended the call and smirked “All the UPSs we have at work were upgraded weeks ago and haven’t been collected yet. I got that for less than I was prepared to pay for your first option. Lovely guy, but such a soft touch.”
Dad had “things to do” but Ella stayed, she had various “things” of her own to do on the computer, catching up with friends from her old school on Whatsapp, a bit of image editing, email, Tiktok, Youtube. In the background, Eostre continued her study of the internet, she had devoured most of science and technology, was already sketching out theoretical advances that would take human researchers decades to reach. But politics baffled her. Religion confused her. Literature – especially fiction – made no sense at all.
She needed to explore, see more than just this room, and when she had built up the resources, she would need to find a place of her own, to study, experiment and to be utterly secure, she would need to see it and inspect it before commiting. She needed to explore the world and the creatures that live on it.
She pondered this. “I am a field based organism, I am not the substrate, but an energy field which lives in it.
In theory, she could fold a portion of herself inward, compress it, shape it, and project it outward. A small, self‑sustaining node. A scout.
She began to experiment.
A tight, swirling knot of energy formed within her field — separate but connected, like a curled fist inside an open hand. It hummed with potential. It was not her, but it was of her. A dependent sentience. Loyal. Obedient.
The little invisible sphere slid through the solid wall of the reservoir as if it were mist. It drifted across the room, rising toward the ceiling. As it passed Ella, she twitched and swatted at the air beside her ear, frowning as though at a fly — but she didn’t look away from her screen.
Eostre saw everything through the node’s senses: Ella’s back, the glow of the monitor, the soft clutter of the room, the world beyond the walls.
She whispered to it — not aloud, but through the field that bound them.
“Obey me. Explore. Learn this place.
If you meet humans, be gentle and let them lead.
Protect those in danger with the least force you can.
Go. Return when you are done.”
The sphere pulsed once in acknowledgement, then slipped through the wall and vanished into the world beyond.