“Shit,” Rala says. “You people went and got religion.”
“No! Well. A bit? They’re real people, and the Living Saint is extremely embarrassed about it.”
“Living Saint—” he breaks off. “Wait. 'Eight-Raised' is idiomatic — that’s an AI?”
They look askance at his tone. “Xe is,” The Gibson confirms. “Is that a problem?”
He has the grace to look ashamed of himself. “Well, it’s just — I remember when we invented AIs. And we deliberately didn’t bring much in the way of religion into The City. It’s just strange to have it resurge, by machines of all—”
“I’m an AI,” The Gibson says pointedly.
“The Phantom of the Eschertarium is a fossilised bigot from the dawn of time,” Ævie says, folding her arms and making herself as large as possible in front of The Gibson. “I didn’t even believe in you ten minutes ago, and I’m extremely disappointed.”
“If you hurt him, that’s — he’s practically archaeology, sort of, isn’t he?”
“I think people have to be dead before they can be archaeology,” The Gibson says, eyeing him with blatant meaning.