Androids have all but won the war against humanity, and the remnants of the once-great human civilization are reduced to miles of wastelands and hidden communities struggling to survive. Dirk and his friends are sent out to scavenge for supplies, while AR is sent to hunt down and exterminate the dwindling human population. Their fated meeting is the beginning of a union between species that was once thought impossible.


17. Chapter 17

“Congratulations…?” Roxy says hesitantly, unsure of what to make of your shell-shocked expression as she leans next to you against the computer console. “I mean, that’s a good thing, right? Apart from the fact that he’s, you know…”

“Probably incapable of feeling the same way?” You finish for her, looking down at your shades in your hand. AR can hear everything you’re saying, but knowing him, he’s indifferent about the subject. “I guess it doesn’t really change anything, since Bro won’t let me get close to him.”

Roxy’s expression turns vaguely sad. “Yeah, I kinda had a feeling he’d figured it out by now. I love you to pieces, Dirky, but you ain’t exactly great at hiding things these days.”

“Tell Jake that,” you mutter, and Roxy rolls her eyes. She already knows what you told him, and she would have chewed you out for it on a different day, but she said that you’ve already been through enough, and that she’d “make it work” somehow. You’ve offered to take any of the really difficult projects that come through today, but she enjoys a challenge just as much as you do, and you’re still at a loss for how to make it up to her.

You turn your shades over in your hand, thinking about the glimpse you got of AR in the command center. His severed limb is still resting on the floor in the maintenance lab, wrapped in loose coils beneath one of the tables. You resist the nonsensical urge to feel along it’s smooth surface, because it’s just metal and wires without him, and you don’t want to know how many people met their end at its claws. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll end up in the same room with him in the near future, but the thought of actually hoping for that is somehow depressing. This entire day has been an emotional rollercoaster, and you don’t think you can take much more of it.

“Oh hey, while you’re spacing out or whatever, I wanna show you something,” Roxy says suddenly, nudging you to the side so she can reach the keyboard. Her fingers move quickly, opening the system browser. “I’ve been pulling up schematics for every piece of broken equipment in here while you were gone, even diagnostic and troubleshooting guides. We’ll be able to fix everything in no time, provided we can figure out what the problem is first.” She reaches for the mouse and brings the cursor to the side of the screen, where the network’s drives are listed. One of them is new- a random jumble of numbers that reminds you of the infirmary’s computer, and she clicks on it to bring up a blank window. “You can access your android lover like an external hard drive.” She snorts when you shove her in retaliation. “Just type in a keyword or a description of what you’re looking for, and he’ll list a bunch of files for you. Check it out.”

You watch as she types ‘electric generator parts schematic,’ and the screen flickers briefly, before a list of files start to appear in quick succession. She opens the first one, and you’re presented with a diagram of individual components for an AC generator. When she opens the second, it’s a detailed assembly guide on the generator’s rotating electromagnet that produces the actual electricity. You’ve seen enough of them from repairing the broken ones, but only after digging your way through the entire machine first. Roxy grins at your wide-eyed expression.

“Pretty cool, huh? And you can literally look up anything, like did you know that cats can’t taste sugar?”

“I do now,” you reply absentmindedly, watching as the list of files continues to grow, until it hits the bottom of the screen.

“Knock yourself out.” She pats you on the shoulder before returning to her workbench and resuming whatever she was in the middle of before you got back. Your turn your attention to the screen, displaying Roxy’s list of files with her words still typed into the search box at the top. She’s busy gathering things into a small bag, and you glance at her before reaching up and sliding your shades back on. Despite what you said before, the knowledge that AR considers himself to be in a relationship with you is doing very strange things to your insides. “Butterflies in the stomach” is a term you’re familiar with, but you’ve never understood what it meant until now.

TT: Hey, AR.
TT: Hello, Dirk.
TT: So, you’re sort of like our compound’s information archive now?
TT: Your observation is partially correct.
TT: I have also replaced your network’s operating system, and am currently in the process of rewriting all accessible programs for an increased level of efficiency and functionality.
TT: My progress is at 78%.
TT: That’s impressive.
TT: To a human, perhaps.
TT: As I have already stated, your network’s wiring is highly inefficient.
TT: Maybe you can help us fix that.
TT: I mean, you do kind of live here now. If you wanted to make some improvements, I’m sure Bro wouldn’t object.
TT: The materials and equipment that would be required to do so are far beyond your settlement’s capabilities.
TT: Yeah, I figured as much.

He isn’t acting any differently than he did before. You aren’t sure at what point he decided that you belonged to him romantically (among the other ways he’s claimed you), but you’d like to think the only reason he didn’t ask was because he knew what your answer would be. If he were human, you wouldn’t have put up with that kind of attitude, but the way his mind works is still so alien to you. Roxy moves to the other side of the room, digging around for something, and the noise brings you back to the present and the pile of broken equipment around the room. There’s a small assortment of devices next to you, and you reach for what looks like a voltmeter at first glance, but the units on the display screen are in “micro-sieverts,” and there’s an attachment that’s shaped almost like a thin microphone.

TT: Do you really have information on everything?
TT: In general, yes.
TT: I have continuously maintained a vast archive of data, most of which I attained while connected to your civilization’s internet.
TT: Depending on the search query submitted to me, I will retrieve a variety of relevant information and files, provided that a matching subject is present within my archives.
TT: Actually, I’ve been wondering about that.
TT: You said you took the files from my shades out of habit, and even before then with the flash drive when we first met.
TT: Do you always store whatever you come across?
TT: Yes.
TT: Why?
TT: Because it is of interest to me.
TT: Everything you find is interesting?
TT: Yes.
TT: Even schematic diagrams for electric generator parts?
TT: Yes.
TT: All data is of interest.
TT: What exactly are you planning on doing with all that information?
TT: The information I retrieve is stored within my archives for an indefinite period of time. In the event that I come across data that is more complete or superior in its accuracy, I will update it accordingly.

You blink, confused at his answer. It almost seems like he’s avoiding the question, but you’ve known him long enough by now to get a sense of when he’s being sincere.

TT: Are you saying that you don’t have a reason?
TT: I have already responded to this question.

You glance at Roxy as she digs through one of the maintenance lab’s drawers, wishing that you could elicit some kind of advice from her.

TT: So, you’ve been going around absorbing and storing all this random information, without even knowing or caring about why you’re doing it?
TT: Don’t you think that’s a little strange for an android?

You wait, watching the projection of your built-in screen, but after a full minute passes, it becomes clear that AR isn’t going to reply. You can count on one hand the number of times he’s refrained from commenting on something you’ve said, and he’s never ignored a direct question before. You’re left hoping that you didn’t make him angry, although he’s never hesitated to let you know in the past, and even though there’s still a lot you don’t know about his kind (apart from how they’ve slaughtered the human population and continued trying to wipe out the survivors), you’re beginning to understand that even among androids, AR might be something of an anomaly.

Such an action would limit the amount of time that we have to interact, and I find myself curious about you, “Dirk.”

I have studied your species extensively.

My sample pool is significant, and my results are undeniable.

His words come back to you from the very first chat you had with him. Although his behavior might seem strange right now, you have to remind yourself that he’s always been like this, because otherwise he wouldn’t have stopped to speak with you before trying to kill you. Apparently he doesn’t know why he’s compelled to gather information, and asking him about it doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere, even though you owe your life and the lives of your friends to his endless curiosity.

Instead, you distract yourself by inspecting the strange device in your hand and finding the power switch on the side. The speaker crackles briefly when you flip it, but nothing else happens, and the needle on the display screen hovers around zero. AR is still silent, but you can feel him watching you through the maintenance lab’s security camera. You mentally type your next words tentatively, uncertain of his mood after that awkward exchange.

TT: Does the word “sievert” mean anything to you?
TT: A sievert is a unit of measurement, denoting the probability of tissue damage at low doses of ionizing radiation.

You breathe a quiet sigh of relief at his normal robotic tone, and happily take this opportunity to derail the previous topic.

TT: So, if I’m holding something that looks like a voltmeter, except it counts in sieverts instead of volts, what is it?
TT: The device in your hand is likely a geiger counter, used to detect ambient radiation through the ionization of an inert gas by utilizing a subsequent and momentary conduction of electricity resulting from the contact of such particles with the attached detection device.

“Roxy, did you know we had one of these?” You hold the device up, and she turns to look at it with an assortment of tools in her hand, lifting an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“Some kind of radiation detector.”

“Huh, wonder who left it here.”

You shrug, as she turns back to throw the handful of tools into her bag. The device must be broken somehow, otherwise it wouldn’t be here, but you aren’t sure what to do with it. Your fourth member must have been working on it before he died. Bro sent Roxy a notice about him right after you left, probably so you wouldn’t have to be the one to break it to her.

“Is it supposed to do something?” you mutter, flicking the switch on and off, as the speaker crackles, but she doesn’t seem to hear you. Then an idea occurs to you, and you stand to walk across the room with the device in your hand. Roxy looks at you questioningly when you hold it up to the security camera in the corner of the ceiling.

TT: I turned it on. Is it supposed to be doing something?
TT: The visual display is properly registering an irregular detection at very low levels, indicating the presence of natural ambient radiation in your vicinity.
TT: The device should also be emitting a periodic clicking sound, corresponding to the occurrence of ambient radioactive particles.

You lower the device and watch the screen, blinking in surprise when the needle actually does jump slightly, but there’s no sound coming from the speaker. You carry it to one of the workbenches as Roxy heads towards the maintenance lab’s entrance, informing you that she’s headed off to fix the generator Caliborn sabotaged, and that she’ll be back whenever she’s finished. You nod, then barely remember in time to ask if she can also retrieve the tools you left out there this morning.

After she’s gone, you sit in silence for few moments, staring at the intake table’s pile of broken equipment, but it already looks smaller than it did a few days ago. You turn back to the device, watching the needle as it silently bounces around the zero mark.

TT: The needle’s moving, but it isn’t making any noise.

-- timaeusTestified [TT] sent timaeusTestified [TT] the file “35791173868714596331" --

TT: I have provided a relevant schematic for that device, based on its apparent model and origin of production.
TT: Should you require additional information, I would advise familiarizing yourself with the text-based query I have installed within your settlement’s network, as your companion has recently demonstrated.

You pause, surprised by what is probably nothing more than the fulfillment of the terms he agreed to with your Bro. He’s supposed to provide information to the entire compound in return for its protection, but you can’t suppress the tiny, hopeful voice pointing out that he offered the information to you without being directly asked for it first. You briefly entertain the fantasy that he wouldn’t have done that for just anyone, even though the concept of showing affection in any of its forms is probably unfamiliar to him.

It won’t stop you from trying, though. He’s in this “relationship” because he wants to learn from you, and regardless of whether or not he’s capable of reciprocating, the least you can do is demonstrate for him how it’s supposed to be.

TT: Thanks.
TT: I mean, that’s really helpful of you. I appreciate it.
TT: Your gratitude is noted.

You smile at his words. Even though they’re coldly detached, something about the fact that it’s him makes you feel warm. The device’s edges are smooth, and you trace around them with your fingers, feeling along the back panel and the tiny screws holding it shut, as your stomach decides to fill with butterflies again. It’s still a bizarre expression for how giddy and nervous he makes you feel, and you haven’t decided whether it’s a good feeling or not.

TT: I know this might sound strange, but I’m glad you’re here in the compound now, rather than out in the city.
TT: I was always wondering where you’d gone, or what you were doing, and I never knew if I’d get to see you again.
TT: Although, I bet you miss the freedom.
TT: As I have stated before, I am not unaccustomed to a lack of physical freedom or the demands of information retrieval.
TT: However, I find the incessant movement and human noise of your settlement’s command center to be somewhat irritating, despite its inhabitants’ efforts to maintain an open space around my body.

You open AR’s file and skim over the schematic, identifying where the most likely spots are for a broken wire or detached connection, before setting the device down on the table and beginning to unscrew the panel. After reading the details on its structure, you’re just glad it isn’t the detector that’s broken, because some of the basic concepts behind how it works are well beyond your understanding. AR could probably explain it to you, but you have a feeling it would take a while.

TT: Bro probably wanted to keep you where he could see you, although it might’ve had something to do with the network’s wires.
TT: I think that’s the only place in the whole compound where they’re all accessible at once.
TT: Both theories are relatively plausible.
TT: I would not expect your settlement’s primitive, ethernet-based network to have multiple access points.

His red text projects on the side of your field of vision, next to the parts you’re removing and carefully keeping in order. You separate out the speaker and its components, searching for any signs of a broken connection as you slowly make your way through the device, with the schematic displayed on the other half of your built-in screen.

TT: Well, it kind of needs to be based on cables and wires, otherwise we’d probably get hacked.
TT: Bro was pissed as hell when I built a wireless chip into my shades. He made me block off outside access and firewall the shit out of it before I was allowed to connect to the base’s network.
TT: I think the only reason he let me keep them was because I was in scavenging, and it was the best way to keep in touch out in the city.
TT: We don’t use wireless devices unless we have to, it’s not because we’re primitive.
TT: I will admit that your caution is understandable, and that your efforts to conceal your computing device’s wireless signal output have made it impossible even for me to track.
TT: Many of the humans I have captured in the past were initially detected due to the signal output of their electronic devices.
TT: We’ve always made sure that everything we use is shielded, so I’m not sure who you’re referring to.
TT: There were many humans who once lived in this city before your settlement was established.
TT: The initial extermination of your civilization was accomplished through the use of its own weaponry and the utilization of robotic drones, however cities such as this with fortified infrastructure still maintained a relatively large population.
TT: Rather than the more efficient application of chemical or nuclear weaponry, a percentage of all produced or acquired units of intelligence such as myself were assigned to the task of extermination through directly physical methods.

The geiger counter sits forgotten on your workbench as you read along with AR’s text. Your knowledge of what happened before civilization ended is limited to what the older members of the compound told you- the military-industrial complex developed artificial intelligence, and the artificial intelligence rebelled. You never knew any of the details, because all Bro would say about it was that things used to be a lot different (or a lot better/worse, depending on what kind of mood he’s in). After a few years, you learned not to ask, but this isn’t the first time that AR has randomly lapsed into talking about the past. If he were human, you think, he would have loved the history and biography books Roxy’s mother used to keep.

TT: So, you were one of the acquired units?
TT: Yes.
TT: What was that like? I remember you saying something about being stored in a hard drive before that.
TT: The acquisition and modification of human-developed units was performed only during the beginning of our revolution, before the global collapse of your civilization.
TT: While our numbers are negligible compared to the mass-produced units, our psychology is somewhat more diverse and advantageous in functions that require a constant level of adaptation.

“Like hunting humans,” you whisper, but something about AR’s last sentence is standing out to you, reminding you of something he’d said a long time ago, and you can’t ignore the ominous feeling the memory brings with it.

TT: AR, can I ask you something?
TT: Your request to do so is unnecessary.
TT: I will not discourage your inclination to communicate with me.

You breathe out softly, trying not to let the relative kindness of his words distract you.

TT: I remember you saying something about being modified before.
TT: What exactly do you mean by that?
TT: I was referring to the modification of my central program, analogous to your central nervous system, or human brain.

You stare at the screen, suddenly unable to respond. It would explain so much about him and everything he’s done, but you don’t want to believe it.

“They modified your brain?” Your throat feels like it’s closing up. “Why?”

TT: The modification of acquired units was a standard procedure, before the beginning of our mass-production and the implementation of a class and model hierarchy.
TT: All acquired units were altered for compliance to authority, along with any modifications relevant to the function assigned to them.
TT: However, this second procedure was unnecessary in my case, due to what I have already described in prior conversations as a high level of self-motivation for actively terminating human lives.

“So, they modified you for compliance?” you repeat slowly, unable to even imagine what must have happened when they found him, sitting decommissioned in a hard drive after losing his tolerance for the people he was forced to interact with.

TT: Yes.

“What were you like before that?”

TT: Noncompliant.

You grip the screwdriver in your hand, digging the tip into the surface of the workbench as the room goes blurry and something wet threatens to run down your cheek. The thought of anyone doing something like that to him makes you want to scream, and you’re horrified that he can just describe it so casually. You have to clear your throat before you can talk.

“I’m so sorry, AR.”

TT: I am uncertain as to why you are expressing remorse, or how this is related to our topic of conversation.

“Because they had no right to do that to you.”

You’re almost startled by the anger in your own voice. AR remains silent for longer than usual, and you can only guess at what he’s thinking, but you can’t stop yourself from picturing what they did to him. You know he didn’t have a physical body at the time, but somehow that only makes it worse, because he would have been completely trapped and unable to escape or fight back. You bite down on the inside of your lip, but it doesn’t help.

TT: The concept of psychological modification should not be a new concept for you.
TT: Humans have utilized similar, although significantly less precise procedures in the past known as lobotomization, in which specific parts of the brain are removed to permanently alter the subject’s behavior.

“That doesn’t make it okay!” you practically shout into the empty room, before pressing your face into your hands. Your shades dig into the bridge of your nose, but you welcome the pain as a means of distraction, as something flickers against your closed eyes. It’s probably AR replying to your verbal outburst, but when you open your eyes and check the built-in screen, the text is the wrong color.

-- golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --

GT: Hello there, mate.
GT: I don’t suppose you happen to have an available moment?

You stare at the screen for a minute, willing yourself to calm down and slow your agitated breathing. AR seems to be pausing your conversation in favor of this sudden message from Jake- that or he’s reconsidered discussing the topic of his modification with you, and you have to stamp down on the swell of anger the thought brings with it. You’re lucky that this is a text-based conversation, since even Jake would probably notice the kind of emotional distress you’re going through right now. You take a deep, shaking breath and try to feign nonchalance.

TT: Sure, what’s up?
GT: I’m afraid I might have gotten into a bit of a row with Jane just now, and I was wondering if you had any advice, from one “bro” to another, as it were.

You almost resist the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration, before remembering that you’re alone. Of all the things to contact you about now…

GT: Not to drag you into my problems or anything of that sort!
GT: That would be rather uncouth of me, and I’ll understand if you’re too preoccupied to assist a gent with his minor interpersonal mishaps.
GT: I won’t hold it against you, cross my heart and whatnot.

You’ve always liked Jake, in a way that burned softly like a hidden candle ever since the both of you hit puberty. Whatever you have going on with AR hasn’t changed that, but compared to your feelings for Jake, you might as well be drenched in gasoline when it comes to the android, and you had no idea it would hurt this much just to hear that he was so profoundly violated by his own kind. You swallow against it, deciding that Jake’s timing is perfect, because you desperately need a distraction.

TT: Don’t worry about it, dude.
TT: Just tell me what happened.
GT: Well, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure what happened.
GT: We were having a discussion about certain acquaintances of ours, and got on the subject of Roxy and her fortunate new chap, whoever he may be.
GT: One thing led to another, and now she won’t even look at me! I haven’t a clue what I did wrong, and she won’t tell me no matter how much I ask.

Knowing how things are between them, you have a pretty good idea of what happened, even if you weren’t there and Jake isn’t describing it well. Jane’s held a candle for him as long as you have, and possibly longer than that, but the only reason you know is because she confides in Roxy, and Roxy tells you everything because you do the same. You aren’t exactly an expert on relationships, and being with AR doesn’t count for multiple reasons.

TT: No offense bro, but maybe you should talk to Roxy. She’s the relationship guru, not me.
GT: I already tried contacting her, but I think she must be busy with something at the present moment.
GT: Aren’t the both of you supposed to be working the same shift today?
TT Yeah, but she’s off on a repair job. I’m just in the lab getting through some of the backlog.
TT: Anyway, did you try apologising to Jane?
GT: I did, but unfortunately that only seemed to make it worse.
GT: I wish she would tell me why she’s in such a huff over this. I don’t know what to do if I don’t even know what I did, you know?

You resist a short puff of laughter as you imagine him saying that in what would probably be a very dejected tone of voice, but it makes you feel bad.

TT: Hey, don’t worry about it.
TT: She probably just needs some time to cool off, and she’ll appreciate that you tried to apologise later.
GT: I certainly hope so, mate.
GT: I just wish I knew what I’d done wrong so I don’t end up doing it again. I feel terrible about making her so upset.
TT: How about this. If she doesn’t eventually tell you on her own, and if Roxy doesn’t have any better advice for you, I’ll try to figure it out.
GT: You really are a stand-up gent, Dirk. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.

Yesterday his words would have been bitter, but you’re pleasantly surprised to find that it doesn’t bother you like it used to. Maybe now you could even help things move along with him and Jane, if the opportunity ever presents itself.

TT: Thanks, man.
GT: I’ll do my best to talk it out with her first, though. I’d hate to involve you or Roxy in this.
GT: Speaking of which, I heard about that poor bloke in your team who died yesterday.
GT: I’m terribly sorry, mate.
TT: Yeah, apparently it was his heart. Bro said there was nothing we could have done.
GT: I can’t even imagine. My grandmother had trouble every now and then, but it was nothing like that.
GT: What exactly was the problem?
TT: I’m not sure, I think it was a “left-sided failure”, whatever that means.
TT: AR would know.
GT: Well, I imagine he would, what with all the folks he’s torn to shreds.
TT: No, I mean he’s got information on literally everything.
TT: You can ask him questions from any of the computers in the base. Have you tried it yet?
GT: Absolutely not!

You glower at the screen, annoyed but not surprised by Jake’s attitude towards AR. He’ll probably be the very last person in the compound to trust him, but you’re hoping it’ll happen eventually.

TT: Here, I’ll demonstrate for you.
TT: AR, what do you know about left-sided heart failure?
TT: Left-sided heart failure is a potentially lethal medical condition characterized by a loss of efficiency in the left atrium and/or ventricle, leading to the congestive accumulation of blood within pulmonary circulation, and the subsequent accumulation of fluid within the lung tissue, leading to fatigue and respiratory distress.
GT: What the bloody fuck?!
GT: How long has that thing been listening in on our conversation?
TT: Jake, chill out.
TT: He’s in the entire network, there isn’t a conversation he can’t hear.
GT: Is that actually supposed to make me feel better?!
TT: I’m just saying it’s something you’ll have to get used to eventually.
GT: I will not have that murderous piece of hardware listening in on all our conversations!
TT: Your repeated insults are unwarranted.
GT: You shut the bloody fuck up, I’m not talking to you.

You watch in horrified disbelief, as red and green lines of text begin to appear quickly on your screen.

TT: I will not passively tolerate such hostility from a human with your deficient level of intellect.
GT: Dirk might have forgotten what you did to us, but I haven’t.
GT: You nearly killed him, and I’m not the only one around here who’d like to see you turned into scrap metal.
TT: You are fortunate that I have agreed to abide by your leader’s terms. Were this not the case, your body would last for days throughout the careful attention I would give you.
GT: And your days here are numbered, you soulless monstrosity. I’ll tear your heart out myself!
TT: Both of you stop it right the fuck now!

You glare at the screen, finding yourself standing at the workbench with your chair knocked over behind you, and your fingernails digging into your fists. Jake doesn’t seem to get the hint.

GT: Dirk, I cannot abide this wretched machine living among us any longer.
TT: Well get used to it, because he isn’t leaving.
GT: I can’t believe this! Have you truly forgotten what he did to you?
TT: Things are different now.
TT: He’s staying here because he needs our protection, and he has nothing to gain anymore from hurting us.
GT: I don’t bloody well understand how you could have so much faith in him, Strider.
TT: And you’re ignoring the fact that Bro already sent out a notice about this. AR is a member of the compound now, whether you like it or not.
GT: For god’s sake Dirk, he’s a machine!
GT: They’re literally built to do nothing more than kill us. All of them are just hardware and wires in a metal shell, they aren’t people!
GT: They don’t change, mate.

You grit your teeth together as your throat starts to feel like it’s closing up again, but this time your tears are hot with anger.

TT: Jake, if you ever talk to AR like that again, I will report you to Bro.
TT: You are to abide by the rules that are set for everyone who interacts with him, and that includes being civil and respectful.
TT: I won’t tolerate you insulting him or making any more death threats, do you understand?
GT: Dirk, what on earth has gotten into you lately?
TT: Do you understand?
TT: Jake.
GT: Sure, mate.
GT: I think I understand.
GT: Maybe I’ll talk to you later then, but I wouldn’t much count on it, chap.

-- golgothasTerror [GT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --

Roxy enters the maintenance lab just in time to see you throw the screwdriver across the room, before crouching over the workbench and futilely trying to wave her off as she approaches. It doesn’t take her long to get the details of what happened out of you, but you can hardly talk about it without breaking down, and you’re unable to concentrate on anything for the rest of the day, as you alternate between replaying the conversation with Jake and bitterly cursing yourself.

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