"Huh?"
Turing uttered a short syllable of utter bewilderment.
His brow furrowed slightly on the organic half of his face. His dark brown eye regarded Lorgar in confusion, while the glow of his red prosthetic eye settled into an inquisitive frequency.
He clearly could not understand why an optimization proposal with such clear logic had met with such an outright refusal.
Just then, the enormous Construct known as Silverheart moved silently over to them.
Soft ripples passed across her ever-shifting geometric surface. Within seconds, her entire form began to contract and reconfigure, finally becoming a humanoid silhouette roughly three meters tall, with exceptionally sleek, minimalist contours and a smooth, silvery-white body.
Though she had no facial features, she naturally conveyed the sense that she was watching them.
"Turing," Silverheart said in her gentle, flawless female voice, like a passing breeze.
"Your brother comes from a social structure entirely different from ours, with different historical experiences and cognitive models. A purely technical discussion may struggle to bridge that gap. Perhaps taking him to see the residents of Novalors and how they live with the system's assistance would convey our philosophy more directly and improve his initial impression."
"Of course, Mother." Turing nodded at once. When he turned to Lorgar, his expression regained its earlier calm and patience.
"Lorgar, this way, please. Let us see the real Novalors."
With that, he guided Lorgar toward an aircraft that had just glided silently up to the edge of the platform.
The aircraft was streamlined, with no visible windows or thrusters. Silver all over, it looked as though it had been formed from molten mercury.
"My friend," said Silverheart's humanoid form, turning toward Hercules, who stood like an iron tower. Her voice remained gentle.
"The next area is a residential district. Your size and armaments