Edgeworth looked uncertain at that, as if he wasn't sure how to handle the situation. Pearl was surprised; how could one of the leaders of the resistance be unsure about anything? "It's... quite alright. You weren't to know."
"I know, but..." Suddenly, an idea occurred to her, and she met the other man's eyes determinedly. "Mr. Edgeworth, what if I told you that I was a technopath?"
Edgeworth's eyebrows rose so far that they were trying to merge with his hair. "Miss Fey," he managed, "Technopathy doesn't exist. If it did, it would certainly be something for the machines to be wary of, but --"
"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Edgeworth," Pearl cut across him, her heart thumping at his outraged expression. "But it does exist, I promise you that it does! My entire family have been technopaths for at least five generations," she pressed on. "I could prove it if I had something electronic!"
"Such as this communicator?"
Pearl could tell that he still didn't believe her. Well, she would just have to prove it to him then, wouldn't she? She nodded with a smile. "Yes, that would work just fine! If you just give me a minute..."
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the communicator. Its parts were old, she realised; some of the wires were frayed, and its self-contained, nuclear battery was at least 20 years behind the current model. The speaker even came off an antique radio, she realised with surprised. But it was sturdy; despite its Frankenstein construction, it did its job. It was a good machine.
She concentrated again. The receiver would be the obvious thing, she decided. She turned its dial in her mind, tuning the frequency until it picked up a sound that it clearly shouldn't. The dulcet tones of the latest pop hit came blaring out of the tinny speaker.
She opened her eyes to see Edgeworth staring thunderstruck at the communicator, still jauntily playing the tune. He looked as if he was in shock.
Pearl smiled. "Now do you believe me?"
When Edgeworth looked up at her and nodded, dumbstruck, she knew that she was in with a chance.
pearl+edgeworth two. [dystopic cyberpunk] 2/2
"I know, but..." Suddenly, an idea occurred to her, and she met the other man's eyes determinedly. "Mr. Edgeworth, what if I told you that I was a technopath?"
Edgeworth's eyebrows rose so far that they were trying to merge with his hair. "Miss Fey," he managed, "Technopathy doesn't exist. If it did, it would certainly be something for the machines to be wary of, but --"
"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Edgeworth," Pearl cut across him, her heart thumping at his outraged expression. "But it does exist, I promise you that it does! My entire family have been technopaths for at least five generations," she pressed on. "I could prove it if I had something electronic!"
"Such as this communicator?"
Pearl could tell that he still didn't believe her. Well, she would just have to prove it to him then, wouldn't she? She nodded with a smile. "Yes, that would work just fine! If you just give me a minute..."
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the communicator. Its parts were old, she realised; some of the wires were frayed, and its self-contained, nuclear battery was at least 20 years behind the current model. The speaker even came off an antique radio, she realised with surprised. But it was sturdy; despite its Frankenstein construction, it did its job. It was a good machine.
She concentrated again. The receiver would be the obvious thing, she decided. She turned its dial in her mind, tuning the frequency until it picked up a sound that it clearly shouldn't. The dulcet tones of the latest pop hit came blaring out of the tinny speaker.
She opened her eyes to see Edgeworth staring thunderstruck at the communicator, still jauntily playing the tune. He looked as if he was in shock.
Pearl smiled. "Now do you believe me?"
When Edgeworth looked up at her and nodded, dumbstruck, she knew that she was in with a chance.