The Weight of Intelligence

“Hmm, that tickles,” Bran said. “Like…someone tickling the inside of my head. From the inside. Strange.”

“The sensation is inversely proportional to the length of time it takes,” Star explained. “A fast flash scan would be painful, and if I put you under and did it over an hour you wouldn’t feel a thing. But who has that much time to spare?”

After a few minutes, Star finished, then ejected the storage cube from the scanner module on her arm. “Can I…um…hold it?” Bran asked tentatively.

“It’s just the same as the one you took out of me an hour ago,” Star pointed out, placing it in his hands.

“I know,” Bran said, holding it up to the light. “But it’s not every day you can hold your own brain in your hands. Is it very fragile?”

“No, they’re actually pretty tough.”

“Great!” Bran grinned. “Can I keep it?”

“I don’t have anything else to do with it, I guess,” Star said.

“Great!” Bran turned back to his workbench, and placed the cube on top of some loose papers. “This is just what I needed!”

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